Page 14 of Of Song and Scepter
I could stay in the current, cut my tether and follow it to the Kingdom of Frost, or to Estuary. Seek out the nomadic group of the Brine. Make a life for myself from scratch. I could leave Odissa to her doomed love mission, never to see or hear from her again. I wrap my hand around the knot, poised for the move that would set me free. I locate the easiest tear point, just beneath the knot. I dig one claw into the fibers, then stop as the familiar restraint of my blood oath rushes through my veins.
I cannot do this. I cannot help her succeed.
But the magic doesn’t listen, because it knows I’m lying. I may be the only person in the sea who can help her now. Like coldhands, the dark magic wraps around my wrist, releasing my grip from the rope.
The fish veers to the left. The exit comes, and the fleetwhale dives through it, severing my escape route with a flourish of bubbles.
Chapter eight
Soren
Afternoon low tide ismy favorite time to run on the beach. In a few hours, the waves will nearly reach the walls of the keep, but for now, the exposed sandbar stretches in wide circumference around Aquisa’s proud sprawl, leaving room for wandering thoughts. I settle into a rhythm quickly, keeping the wall to my right as I head north. I relish the way my muscles flex and burn in the heat. One foot after the other, digging into the warm sand.
My headache is worse today. Two days ago, I woke in blissful ignorance of my mother’s dealings with the Abyss. Since her announcement and the departure of Captain Nara's escort, my time has been consumed by the plans for the princess’s arrival this evening. The housekeeper, Clio, has whipped the staff into shape, preparing everything we requested on short notice.
I should be thrilled. All the pieces are falling into place, and I’ve hardly needed to lift a finger or make a decision.
The throbbing at my temple synchronizes with the rhythm of my feet. Nearer to the shoreline, merfolk lounge lazily, tanning their bronze legs and drinking rum, gossiping about the latest court drama. My name passes among them in whispers, paired withAbyssalandinvitation to the royal wedding,and occasionallyabout godsdamn time.As I pass each group, they hush and touch their hidden gills in a sign of respect.
Set above, set apart—such is the life of a royal. I’m destined for loneliness and greatness all at once. I’ve carried this burden since my father’s accident three years ago. With no possibility of continuing the royal line herself, my mother wasted no time lining up my suitors ever since.
Since the day I hatched, an endless stream of tutors drilled me in my studies, and mentors fine-tuned my skills in magic, weaponry, ancient language, and more. I’ve learned how to walk stick-straight, speak with authority, and hold my body in a manner that commands attention and exudes the confidence of a male nurturing a seat of power held for a millennium. I am just as sculpted as the statues that line the great hall, and someday soon, my own likeness will stand next to my father’s.
I round the east side of the keep, where a few large boulders decorate the beach, creating a naturally secluded maze. Between the rocks, unseen bodies shuffle, voices moan, the sounds of a couple in the throes of orgasmic bliss. I lope past the rocks, pushing down the lump in my throat. By the night of the full moon, I’ll be bedding a complete stranger.
Stumbling, I nearly miss a step. I round the south side, welcoming the sight of the long, empty beach. No one likes to lounge on this side of the keep due to the extremity of the sun, providing me solitude with my thoughts.
Thoughts of my destiny, slowly narrowing like a vise. The sun is suddenly too hot, too glaring, like a giant golden eye watching my every move. My stomach sours. I slow to a jog, then a walk. I make it only a few more paces before I lean onto my knees and vomit what’s left of my lunch. I heave again and gag on dry air. Blackness teases the edge of my vision.
Pull it together.
I rise on shaking knees, kicking sand over my mess. The southern gate is not too far from here. I’ll cut my run short. I’ll go inside and lose myself in a steam bath—enjoy my last moments of freedom before my future washes up on this beach. I’ve been trying to outrun this moment for my entire life, and it’s time to give up the game.
As I turn toward the gate, movement catches my eye. A lone figure walks along the beach. I squint. Not walking.Hopping.
She’s undoubtedly female, with the smooth features of a magic-wielder, though she’s no siren I’ve seen around my court before. Her skin is pale white, nearly the same color as the sand. If it wasn’t for the black cloth dangling between her legs and the mess of black hair on her head, I might not have noticed her at all. Her short hair sticks up at odd angles. She moves in a sort of dance, hopping on one foot then the next and making wide arcing paths in no set direction that I can see. Like she’s out here purely for the joy of dancing in the sand. She wears no chest piece, her breasts bare and bouncing with each step. For all I know, this strange, beautiful female could be my princess from the deep.
Then where is her escort?
I scan the beach, finding no sign of Captain Nara. Confused, I march toward the female. A deep tugging sensation propels me toward the little lonely dancer, like I’ve been hooked through the belly with a sudden, sharp need to protect her.
She looks Abyssal. There’s no ignoring the pale white skin of her kingdom, likely to have never seen the light of the sun.
The female continues her hopping toward the gates of the keep. She pauses, spins in a circle, then cuts a path left away from the gate. Definitely lost.
The captain has some explaining to do. My concern threatens to burst out of me as I break into a run toward the helpless, wandering female with a ridiculous gait.
Chapter nine
Enna
I never knew sandcould be this hot. The white grains—not black!—spread out in every direction on this damned beach, forming fluffy little piles from hell, and I swear my feet are about to combust into flames. The only way I can relieve the pain is by hopping from one foot to the other in an awkward dance, one so embarrassing to watch that Odissa ordered the Coral escort to carry her to the keep’s gate, leaving me behind to flounder on my land legs.That bitch.
I’ve managed the two-legged transformation many times before. The pain of my bones cracking and rearranging within seconds, while once incredibly sharp, had become a reluctant routine in my frequent missions to the siren courts in Dredgemaw.
I know how to use my own damn pair of legs. The issue isn’t me. It’s this thin air, the trudging sand—all making it impossible to breathe, to balance, toexistwithout an immense amount of effort. If it weren’t for thatfuckingblood oath, I would have turned around after my first step into this blasted kingdom.
The sun isn’t anything like I expected. Its harsh light blinds me, reflecting off every surface in sight—the expanse of turquoise water that whispers behind me, the glitter that somehowisthe sand, the white marble palace sitting proudly on the other side of this beach, and,fuck,the whiteness of my own skin. I can’t even look at the back of my hands without squinting, eyes brimming with tears. And theheat. My skin feels like it’s bubbling, boiling me from the outside in.
