Page 102 of I Dream of Dragons
“How do you know what I am now?” I insist.
“I watched the games, or do you think me blind and stupid?” The flames of the candles flicker. The air winds about us like a snake. “You are a mermaid, are you not? With a fishtail and scales, an abomination of the deep.”
I say nothing.
He stops. “Well, I need something from you.”
“Something more. Apart from refusing Athdara. Apart from doing your bidding without fail.”
“Yes.”
“Such as what?” I ask.
“I need you to transform into your finnfolk shape.”
“What for?”
“You don’t ask questions, beloved. You obey.”
I swallow hard. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can. I want to see your true form.”
And then I feel it. The mark on my wrist throbs. Prods. My power, that dark spot in my chest, in my mind, aches. But nothing happens.
“I told you, I can’t,” I gasp. “I can’t shift.”
“Why not?”
“The spell on me won’t let me. You saw me in this last trial. I can’t transform.”
He bows over me. “You can break the spell on yourself. Athdara didn’t tell you, did he? He wants to keep control over you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kissing him, touching him… it reminded you of something you lost. It eroded the spellwork just enough for your voice to come back. Voice, and gills. Interesting…”
“You’re wrong. I can’t. I can’t break the spell. Athdara was the one who broke the spell over my voice.”
He laughs. The sound… isn’t at all like Mars’ laughter in my memory. The more I look at him, the less he looks like Mars. “You are ignorant and weak. And this.” He grabs the jacket I’m still keeping closed over my chest and tears it open. Bearing my breasts over my ruined gown. “You slept with Athdara and then came to see me. The insolence.”
When he grabs my arm and hauls me up, I have to resist the urge to punch him in the face. Break that perfect nose. Splatter him with his own blood.
Then he drags me to the sofa and I struggle in his hold.
“Stop this,” I whisper. “Stop this game.”
“For the sake of what we once had,” he says, still lying to my face, “stop being so annoying.” He drops me on the sofa and braces his hands on the back of it, leaning over me. I flatten myself on the backrest, pulling the jacket closed over my breasts. “Now, I need your assistance. Athdara is important to me. You are finnfolk. You will protect him in the sea.”
“Don’t lie to me. You don’t care about him?—”
“This is no lie. I can’t lie.”
“You did lie! You told me he was the cause of my family’s death.”
“And so he was. Has he denied it?”
He hasn’t. Oh Gods, he hasn’t. But the more the king insists on it, the less I believe it.
