Page 4 of Seas and Scepters

I walked to the basin of cool water my servants had left for me and splashed my face, trying to wash away the lingering tendrils of the nightmare.The water was shockingly cold against my skin, but it did nothing to ease the burning behind my eyes or the ache in my chest where my heart used to be.

Almost without thinking, I turned toward the mirror of polished silver that hung beside my wardrobe.My reflection stared back at me—a man divided, split down the middle like a cracked mask.The right side of my face was what I might have been: strong jaw, high cheekbone, the clear blue eyes I had inherited from my mother.Handsome enough, perhaps, to win a woman's heart through honest means.

But the left side...

I raised my hand to trace the twisted landscape of scar tissue that stretched from my temple to my jaw.The skin was pulled tight and discolored, a patchwork of white and angry red that spoke of old agony.My left eye was partially obscured by the damage, the lid drooping slightly, giving me a perpetually weary expression that matched how I felt most days.

The curse had marked me when I turned sixteen—the same age when the protection of my bloodline had first manifested.It was the price my ancestors had paid for safety from the siren's song: each heir would bear the burden of disfigurement, a visible reminder of the bargain struck with powers beyond mortal understanding.

Some days, I wondered if my forebears had chosen the lesser evil.Better to die beautiful and beloved than to live marked and alone.

I touched the scars again, following their familiar paths with fingertips that had long since memorized every ridge and valley.These marks had saved my life three nights ago, but they would condemn me to a lifetime of revulsion and pity.The siren's song could not touch a soul that bore the Sea Witch's mark, but no magic could make a woman look upon me with anything but disgust.

A sharp knock at my chamber door interrupted my brooding."Your Highness?"The voice belonged to Sir Hadrian, my most trusted advisor and one of the few men who could look upon my face without flinching."Your father requests your immediate presence in the council chamber."

I sighed and moved away from the mirror, grateful for any excuse to stop studying my reflection."I'll be there shortly."

"He specifically asked me to inform you that King Roderick has arrived with his retinue," Hadrian continued."The wedding negotiations are about to begin."

My stomach clenched.King Roderick—Princess Astrid's father and the man who would soon become my father-in-law whether I willed it or not.I had hoped the arrival of his delegation might be delayed a few more days, giving me time to recover from the nightmare of the siren attack.Instead, it seemed my fate was accelerating toward me like a ship caught in a storm.

"Thank you, Sir Hadrian.Please inform His Majesty that I will join them presently."

I dressed quickly in formal attire—a doublet of deep blue silk trimmed with silver thread, dark breeches, and polished boots that clicked against the stone floors as I walked.The clothes were fine enough to befit a prince, but I chose them more for their high collar than their elegance.The stiff fabric helped hide some of the scarring on my neck, though it could do nothing about my face.

The council chamber was already filled with voices when I arrived, the sound of men conducting the business of kingdoms with casual efficiency.My father sat at the head of the long oak table, his gray-streaked hair gleaming in the morning light.King Aldric of Vaelthorne had always been an imposing figure, but age had only sharpened his presence, turning him into something more akin to a blade than a man.

Across from him sat King Roderick of Astoria, a portly man with kind eyes and a nervous disposition.He had always struck me as too gentle for the harsh realities of ruling, but his kingdom's strategic position and fertile lands made him a valuable ally.Between the two kings sat their various advisors, chancellors, and courtiers—men whose lives were dedicated to turning royal marriages into political advantages.

And there, in a chair positioned carefully to catch the best light from the tall windows, sat Princess Astrid.

She was beautiful in the way that court painters favored—golden hair arranged in elaborate curls, blue eyes the color of summer skies, and skin so pale it seemed to glow from within.Her gown was a masterpiece of azure silk and silver embroidery, cut to emphasize her delicate figure while maintaining perfect modesty.Everything about her was crafted to project innocence, purity, and noble breeding.

Everything except the way she looked at me.

"Ah, Prince Eirik!"King Roderick rose from his chair as I entered, his round face creasing into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes."How good to see you again, my boy.You look...well."

The pause before the word 'well' was barely perceptible, but I heard it.I had been hearing it my entire life—that moment of hesitation when people tried to reconcile their expectations with reality.

"Your Majesty," I replied, offering a respectful bow."Welcome to Vaelthorne.I trust your journey was pleasant?"

"Indeed, indeed.The roads have been quite safe lately, thanks to your father's excellent patrols."Roderick's eyes flicked nervously to my scars, then away."And may I say how honored we are to be joining our houses in matrimony?Princess Astrid has been looking forward to this union with great...anticipation."

I turned toward my intended bride, who had risen from her chair in a whisper of silk.She curtsied gracefully, her movements fluid and elegant, but when she lifted her head to meet my gaze, I saw her jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.

"Your Highness," she said, her voice melodious and carefully modulated."It is...a pleasure to see you again."

Another pause.Another carefully chosen word that managed to convey politeness while offering nothing genuine.

"Princess Astrid."I inclined my head formally."You look radiant.The journey from Astoria has clearly agreed with you."

She smiled—a perfect, studied expression that never wavered even as her eyes remained cold as winter seas."You are too kind, Your Highness."

"Please, all of you, be seated," my father interjected, his voice cutting through the polite exchanges like a sword through silk."We have much to discuss and little time to waste on pleasantries."

I took my designated chair—positioned strategically so that my scarred side faced away from Princess Astrid.It was a small consideration, but one that my father's protocol officers had no doubt calculated carefully.Every detail of these negotiations would be choreographed to minimize discomfort and maximize the appearance of a harmonious union.

"As we discussed in our correspondence," King Aldric began, "the ceremony will take place in three weeks' time.The cathedral has been reserved, the invitations sent to allied kingdoms, and the feast preparations have already begun."

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