Page 45 of Of Song and Scepter
“I was hungry. Late-night snack, nothing more.” My throat burns as I push my words through it. I cough, spitting blood onto the floor—dark against clean white.
She pouts. “Aw, the little pet is starving.” She pinches my cheek, testing the fat that’s accumulated there since our arrival. “Have you so easily forgotten the Drink? That I’m the one who got us out? And this is the thanks you give me. Perhaps this isn’t your last job. Perhaps I keep you forever. Is that what you want?”
I bare my fangs, disguising the despair that twists in my stomach.
“He wants to take you out, Odissa. He mentioned a restaurant with a fancy menu in the reef districts. By thegoddess, calm down.”
I cough again. Too many words, that time. More blood sprays onto the marble. I push onto my hands and knees, slowly retrieving my knives under her scrutiny. When I stand and remove the blade from her coverlet, feathers spill out of the gash.
Odissa crosses her arms. “You could have just said that.”
I sheath each knife, resting my hand on the hilt of my father’s dagger briefly before I hide it beneath my skirts. “Yeah, well. Your hand was on my fucking throat.” We match our glares, both hating each other and needing each other all at once.
“You need a better game plan,” I say.
“Fine. What move would you play next?”
“You could start by being a little more…” I narrow my eyes. “Attractive. Personality wise. It’s not just your looks that will win him over. He’s a prince with honor. You tried to fuck him, and he didn’t talk to you for two weeks, Odissa. You’re after his heart, not his cock.”
She flinches. “And what do you know about winning someone over? You have the personality of a prickerfish.”
I smile, sliding a finger up the length of my spines. It may be true, but the prince did ask for my opinion of the tavern first—a detail I conveniently left out of my tale.
Chapter twenty-eight
Enna
On the way tothe tavern, I give the prince and Odissa a wide berth, hanging back with the watchful group of guards.
He guides us into the underwater districts and, just as before, Odissa clings to him like a horny bloodfish.
At the reef's edge, a large cave structure extends above the waterline. We follow a narrow channel, surfacing inside the heart of a cavern. Stalagmites surge up from the stone floor to support scattered tabletops, each surrounded by chattering merfolk. The room is packed to its gills. Noisy.
I haul myself into the humid cave air, my tail splits into a wobbly pair of legs, and I step onto the smooth stone floor. I watch the patrons closely, waiting for the tension to arise. In Vespyr, there’s always a tavern fight. But it doesn’t come. Themerfolk laugh and toast their ale. When they notice the royals, many pause and touch their gills.
The prince points to an empty table at the back of the room. “There’s our spot. You ladies get settled in while I grab us some drinks from the bar.”
He brushes the small of Odissa’s back, and she leans into it, resting her head momentarily on his shoulder. “You’re leaving me alone?”
He smiles at her. “I’m sure your handmaid will protect you.” His gaze lifts to meet mine, and he whispers, “Won’t you, Wicked?”
I nod, heat skittering across my neck, and cross to the table he indicated. Odissa follows quietly, and we settle into chairs across from each other.
“What the fuck was that?” she hisses. “Wicked?”
“It’s nothing, Your Highness.” I shrug, avoiding her gaze. After a beat of silence, she huffs her retreat.
Beside us, two mermen play a game of Stones, placing them in intricate patterns on a lined stone board. A large male twirls a whiskered spine dripping from his top lip. With a crooked smile, he slaps down a black stone, then leans back in his seat and guffaws. The sound rises above the chatter of the room.
It was a good move. In my father’s house, I would sneak in a game of Stones with the butler.
“Oy!” calls the waitress, who carries five foaming mugs of ale in one hand. With the other, she hands another patron their bill. “Shut it down, Krass.”
Krass’s laugh grows louder, and the waitress shakes her head, smiling.
His opponent, a smaller male with two round eyes too big for his face, frowns at the table. His antennae twitch, peeking through a mop of gray hair. He places a small white stone. Krass stops laughing, squinting at the board. With a growl and a swipeof his large fist, the board clatters to the floor. The pebbles scatter, landing at Odissa’s feet.
She kicks the stones away with a sour expression. She mutters to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes.
