Page 53 of Siren's Treasure

Chapter twenty-four

He must die to save her life?

Raggon listened to Circe’s horrific command for Thessa to walk to the sea, to continue Undine’s curse and to let the waves consume her as seafoam.

But Undine hadn’t perished… how many times must he shout the truth for Thessa to believe him? The great ancestress of their people had transformed into a sylph; she’d become their great queen, who loved their king with a love that overcame their age-old rivalries. The mother of their line who bound souls to her will and called forth the memories of all who had ever touched water, whose essence flowed through every raindrop, every tear, every crashing wave.

And if he was wrong?

No, he wasn’t. Something more was happening here! Some… trick! He struggled against chains forged from the hateful sea steel—the rare alloy blocked him from shifting. “Thessa!” He reached for her. “Fight it! You’re stronger than her magic!”

The tightening of her jaw was the only sign that she’d heard him, the twitching of her fingers over Undine’s Blade, but that was the extent of her resistance against the horrible hypnotizing power of Circe’s command.

He’d felt that same force when Thessa had wielded her siren voice against him, but it hadn’t been poisoned with such vindictiveness, such cruel spite, as the way Circe wielded it. He watched helplessly as Thessa moved through the crushed pathway leading to the sparkling seas beyond, her movement not her own, and just like that she threw herself into Scylla’s waiting hands and disappeared from his life.

Raggon let out a shout wracked with pain and grief.

Circe giggled in return—her soul was truly made up of crow’s vomit and festering tide pools. “Ah, poor Shadow of the Tide.” She came to him, gathering the stiff fabric of her dress in one hand. “And there your mermaid goes—taking with her the power of the sylphs. Did she tell you that you couldn’t touch it?” A cruel smile twisted her lips. “What a disgusting trick to play on her most devoted servant.”

He glowered at her. Was she already trying to sow more seeds of distrust between them? It wouldn’t work. “Make up your mind, Circe,” he said. “Am I the enemy of the people that will break her curse or is she trying to edge me out of her power? Or maybe you’d have me believe both lies?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously on him, her laughter snapping into the temper that had her minions edging away. “She’d have you dead, Prince of the Sylphorians.”

“She thinks she’s sacrificing herself for me,” he hissed. “You and I know that’s not true!”

“Ha! So superior, so all-knowing—so stupid!” she hissed. “The Sylphorian royal line carries the blood of Undine—Poseidon’s own sister. Never mind that more than a thousand years divide you from your ancestress—you are an heir to the Divine SeaSovereignty. A single touch is all it takes for you to claim the power for your own. It’s too bad really… you could’ve healed your brother with the powers that blade would’ve given you.”

Raggon kept his expression neutral, though her words struck him like a blow. A cold clarity washed over him as he forced himself to consider the possibility. “How can I touch the weapon if Undine became a Sylph? She left her heritage to join my ancestors’. She’s no longer mermaid.”

“And neither is that girl!” Circe cackled as her eyes followed the pathway that Thessa had used to leave them. “That’s a fine thing! You can’t just leave your bloodline after you walk away from it, lover boy. Why else would I send you after it?” Her eyes glittered with malevolent delight at his sharp intake of breath. “Too late now! You truly are a fool.” She whipped away from him.

His mind raced through the possibilities. If he could touch the blade without withering away—if he truly carried Undine’s birthright—it would change everything. He could drive the cursed dagger into the heart of their true enemy. He’d use it against all of them if he could!

Maddox lumbered forward, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed the ground between them. His yellowed teeth bared in a smug grin that Raggon itched to smash. “Should I send your beasts to shadow the little sea creature?”

“No…” Circe said with a dainty flutter of her fingers. “I won’t chance you hulking idiots breaking my spell over her. Scylla will be waiting for her out there… as I vowed I’d do from the beginning. From there… my contribution stops.”

Why? What was she planning after that?

Circe’s brow lifted, as if he’d asked it aloud, and swung to him with a mocking glare. “Your little maid will perish—nothing you can do short of breaking those bonds will stop it.”

Raggon’s heart lurched at the brightness of her unfeeling smiles as she tried to twist out his heart without lifting a sharpened nail.

How would she die? What could the witches do to her after she’d gained her sylph powers? Was it that Thessa wouldn’t understand how to use them? He’d never seen a transformation of a sylph, such a thing was unheard of in these times, but the process might possibly be painful, leave her weakened at first. He’d forever blame himself if he stood by and did nothing.

He clutched his chains. If his rage had physical form, it would have melted the sea steel to slag and set the world ablaze, and yet, he’d never stood a chance against these sister witches! They had centuries to scheme and wait for the moment that Poseidon could no longer interfere.

Not for an instant did he believe they’d let the power of Undine’s Blade disappear into the waves without a fight—but they couldn’t touch it either. What were these witches plotting? And possibly against each other? Even now, Circe’s whole body had grown stiff and impatient, as if she forced herself to remain rooted to that spot. Such self-control was unlike her. She’d turn against her sister in an instant.

How could he use that against them? What could he do, tied down with the chains of sea steel? The monstrous guards loomed in the jungle shadows—abominations with scales glinting beneath leathery skin and eyes that reflected no light. They stood in terrifying silence, barely breathing as they awaited their mistress’s command. Maddox was less patient, shifting from boot to boot, his belts of weapons clanging together like a traveling tinker’s cart. The bejeweled rings adorning his thick fingers caught the golden light of the late evening as he fidgeted with his sword hilt. “Where’s the rest of this treasure,” he asked.

“Oh…” Circe laughed, “when I’m done, every pearl and sapphire hidden in the deepest abyss will be ours. We’ll weighdown your ship with so many sunken treasures, you will sink under their weight.”

A grin rode on Maddox’s lips as no doubt he was calculating how to redesign the usual cheap décor of his quarters into something resembling a sultan’s harem dripping with his stolen riches. “And a mermaid of my own?” he asked. “I’ll have one of those.”

Circe rolled her eyes. “I’m sure they’ll elbow each other aside for a chance to join your crew.” Her voice rang with brittle sarcasm that barely masked her loathing.

Oh, she had no intention of letting him live, did she?

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