Dark Waters Rising

Numbers

"As you might've guessed, things with your father have gotten worse over the years since your banishment," Calloway said. Valentine nodded. He'd managed to get himself into a sitting position with his back resting against this inside wall of the sunken ship. His wound had healed quite a bit since the first time he'd woken up, but it was still tender. He kept a protective arm wrapped around his torso to shield it from the gentle current around him and did his best to not look as drained as he felt. "Many of us suspect his mind has been deteriorating, leading him to make rash decisions that endanger those around him."

"He was always short tempered," Valentine said, thinly veiled bitterness in his tone. "You just never noticed until it effected you."

Calloway shook his head, thankfully unoffended by Valentine's attitude. "It's more than that. I'm sure what he did to you in your childhood was terrible, but now it's affecting the entire kingdom. He's been torturing and executing innocents for his own amusement. He's ordered the capture of all magic wielders so that he can exploit their gifts. He tried to declare war on the Kingdom of Tora. That was thankfully diffused by his advisors, but now he's got it in his mind that every surface dweller needs to pay for the death of his eldest son. He's reinstated hunts for the purpose of downing ships and ripping out the hearts of men and is currently trying to use magic to make it so his armies can mobilize against surface cities."

None of that made Valentine feel better about the fact that his mate was currently in the man's clutches.

"Give me the numbers. His against ours."

"Most people are afraid of what could happen if they step out of line. They are reluctant to join a rebellion they are not confident they could win."

"The numbers, Cal," Valentine said, not in the mood for excuses.

"He has around 5,000 able bodied warriors. I've managed to convince around 500 upper and middle class families to join us when the time is right."

"Shite, Calloway, that's not nearly enough," Valentine said, running a hand over his face.

"I know," he said, "and that's why we need you."

"You overestimate my abilities," Valentine shook his head.

"And you underestimate them," Calloway responded. "You've been away for a long time, Valentine, but despite the risk of being overheard and ratted out to the King, your name is still whispered amongst the masses. There isn't a man, woman, or child in Aurelia who doesn't know the story of the King's cursed bastard. You're a hero to them. A symbol of hope. And if they are brave enough to utter your name in defiance of the King, then perhaps you are the catalyst they need to rise up for themselves."

Valentine shook his head. "Even if that's true, there is still 4,500 people to make up for."

"Not all of the King's men are loyal to him. In fact, I suspect that a good majority would turn against him and join our cause if they were to see it in action."

"That is not a certainty," Valentine pressed his palms into his eyeballs as he thought.

"And if we freed the magic wielders we'd have a far more potent force to fight beside us."

"Again, this is all hypothetical. I do not feel comfortable leading innocent people to their deaths on mere guesswork."

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Calloway crossed his arms over his chest. "Innocent people are already dying, and they will continue to die if we do nothing."

"Do we have any solid information? When he plans to attack the surface? Where? What are his weak points? What are our strengths?"

"We can discuss those details later tonight when the rest of our council arrives. One of our members should be bringing new information."

Valentine nodded, feeling exhausted from just the brief conversation.

Thankfully, Calloway could see Valentine's exhaustion and decided to leave so that the siren could rest. Valentine did not object as he laid down and closed his eyes. He had hope that the next time he woke up, his wound would be fully healed. He knew from experience that it would still ache for a while after healing, but at least he wouldn't be at risk of accidentally reopening the injury again.

With silence in his mind again, Valentine's thoughts drifted to Wesley. He was worried for his mate, so much so that every time he remembered Wesley's predicament, he felt sick. Valentine had lived through years of his father's abuse, but with the added shield of a familial relationship and a reputation to maintain. Wesley, on the other hand, was a nobody. He was a prisoner, and Valentine's father had the power to do whatever he wished to him without repercussions.

He could only hope that Wesley stayed strong, and that he did whatever it took to keep himself safe. Even knowing what death entailed, Valentine knew he wouldn't be able to live on if he lost Wesley. He would gladly go back to Hell if it meant Wesley was safe. It certainly wasn't healthy, but Valentine was convinced that the world didn't exist without Wesley in it. His world didn't, at least. He needed the man more than he needed the water through his gills.

That line of thought scared him, if he was honest. He'd never been so attached to anyone. For all of his life, Valentine had been alone. He'd always found comfort in his own company, but after meeting Wesley, being alone felt like a fate worse than death.

After a good while, Valentine's exhaustion tugged him into a world of sleep. One filled with blissful images of Wesley beside him. This time, Valentine wasn't so sure he wanted to wake up.

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A/N

What's your favorite song that nobody has heard of? Mine is called Grounds for Divorce by Elbow. Although, Let Me Live/Let Me Die by Des Rocs has also been making a play for the top spot recently.

See you Thursday!
-Mora Montgomery