A Song in the Night (TEMPTED KINGDOM: The Series Book 1)

by Jessa Lucas

  Except...

  “Aiayla, you said my dream would become reality when the eclipse happens in two weeks and Valtronya... she said...” I frowned, trying to remember. “She said my watchmen would share my fate. Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “Well I do not know what lies in your mind,” she smiled at me and I felt then the full depth of timeless wisdom in her eyes, “but come the eclipse, your fates shall align. Returned to the dream shall you eternally be, and with you your men— never to be free.”

  “They’ll enter... my dream?”

  The Reflection nodded.

  Fuck.

  All the more reason then to figure out those strange lapses I’d had with Jude… the odd sensation of remembering him from Earth. Either he’d been successful in entering my dream, or my watchmen had been planted there by the Grimms. Regardless of how they got there, whatever happened to them in the deep sleep now mattered if we faced the very real possibility of them getting stuck there with me.

  I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like what I had to do next— or rather, I would like it way too much for my own good. Which was another risk entirely.

  “Is there any other way?” I whispered, the sound a plea. “Any way to break this curse besides being in love? A door that was left unwarded— a spell I could learn...? Something you could do?!”

  “All such hopes were long ago sought. Break this curse for you, Princess, I cannot.”

  I bowed my head into my knees, binding my hands against the nape of my neck as if to hide myself from the panic I felt coming.

  I needed to keep it together. One breakdown per day, max. But…

  Real or not, in the life I remembered, my carnal pursuits had not ended well. And if touch— the more sexual, the more powerful— was the only way to draw out my memories, I’d be playing a hard game. One that I had done my best to not play at all.

  Despite a worthy attempt to calm down, a sob erupted from me anyway.

  “I spoke the name of fear before,” the Reflection’s gentle voice summoned me, and I looked up reluctantly. “Fear, dear lady, is but the devil’s whore. I know the fear which you hold tight, for it was mine once, too, day and night.”

  Again, the timelessness of the Reflection passed over me, that truth in her voice which had lured me through the halls. Like calling to like.

  We were sisters of the same curse, she and I. Not a queen’s curse, but Fate’s amused smile as she burdened our lives with a power so deeply woven into the fabric of our being. Sirens, bonded to our own kind of dark magic, the wayward powers of desirability and obsession.

  “It does not do to trouble yourself with your scars, when your men here can resist such powers as ours.”

  I shook my head, wishing this could’ve been the encouragement she meant it to be, but I’d never been with someone who was immune to me. I didn’t have the slightest clue what that looked like. I’d learned how to control my abilities— use them for “good”— but if I knew anything at all about the siren in me, it was that she was persistent and unruly, and when given an inch, she’d take a mile.

  Skin to skin contact was definitely giving a mile... and I didn’t know what she would do when she faced resistance. Rejection.

  Nobody takes rejection well. I’d witnessed that first hand.

  I stood, hoping I could walk off some of my thoughts instead of letting them stagnate while I sat and agonized. I folded my arms over each other and marched around the room, only barely registering the fragrant roses and lilies. So much for appreciating the little things today.

  The murmur of wings and hushed breath of enchanted wind were the only soundtrack to my thoughts as the Reflection studied my rupturing composure with a steady gaze.

  It was one thing to tell a dirty hobo off, to flaunt my powers and have pride in my sexuality. Those things I could do all the live long day. It was another thing entirely to be close to a man, to unleash the starved monster prowling underneath my skin on him. She’d done things... and when I remembered those things, it wasn’t all too hard to understand why Valtronya despised what I was.

  When my watchmen saw me like that… well, there was definitely no chance they’d be sticking around for an encore performance of falling in love.

  I circled back around the fountain, stopping in front of the Reflection. I could just make out my image behind her, the worry knitted between my brows and sewing my lips together in a tight line. “Has a man ever loved you? You, with your powers, not because of them?”

  Aiayla might’ve fought for a united kingdom, but she’d done it with cunning, not fairness. She was not cruel like her sister, but neither was she tame. And I wasn’t completely sure I was, either.

  The Reflection smiled, the expression tense. “Men do not love the things, lady, to which they must bow, but fall to their knees will they for a girl with a crown on her brow.”

  Only mildly helpful. I shook my head, doing my best to keep the tremble from my voice, “I just want to know…. is it even possible for me to break this curse, Aiayla?”

  “The first day that I met a man who was immune was a harrowing day which came far too soon. But Princess— surely you have loved and been loved in return. Love true enough to break this curse? That is yours to learn.”

  Option one: start from complete scratch and try to make one of my men love me in the next thirteen days.

  Option two: tempt my temptress, learn the truth, burn the witch.

  “Aiayla, you’re from Dramon Dagma, right? Do you know much about the Dream-Trotters?”

  “Aye.”

  “Jude told me that I’ve been dreaming in a loop, but there’s no way to remember everything I’ve experienced. Would it be possible— for a siren, I mean— to remember some of the forgotten layers in a dreamscape with… touch?”

  The Reflection raised a single eyebrow, a savage smile coming to her lips. “A spark can light a fire, so let not your siren instincts flee… for perhaps your most important secrets they might yet break free.”

  When I walked out of the pseudo conservatory, Gilles was leaning on the wall outside the door, suspicious eyes trained on me.

  “How can I help you, Sir Gillesyn?”

  “Have a problem with me watching you?”

  “Does it appear I do?” I asked as I folded my arms and walked past him, not deigning to offer him my eyes. I could hear his footfalls close behind and I stopped abruptly, causing him to nearly collide with the back of me.

  Instead, he stopped just short of my body, his voice murmuring into my ear from over my shoulder, “Your tone suggests this, yes,” he said. “Do you have something to hide, Princess?”

  I turned on my heel only to find my nose even with his chin. I hated having to look up, so I did it with as much dignity as I could manage. “I don’t enjoy being followed by men. Casualty of being a woman, pardon me if my discomfort makes your job difficult.”

  Gilles merely smiled. “Watching you walk away is always enjoyable, for numerous reasons.”

  “If you like that, I’m sure there are far more interesting things you could watch. Of course, I suppose I haven’t invited you to. I did extend the invitation to Dash this morning, though.”

  His breath was hot on my face. “Did you now? The way I heard it, he declined.”

  I frowned. “He did no such—”

  “Don’t go around whispering your proclivities like secrets, Princess, when you flaunt them on the daily.” Gilles leaned in close, his words tickling my ear, “It was my impression mystery was part of your strategy.”

  I felt the blood shoot to my cheeks. I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of, but... god, it was so stupid. I wasn’t used to such dismissal. Dismissing me had literally never been possible for a man, so while the part of me that clung to morality should have delighted in the display of it, the woman in me couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

  “I know,” Gilles shook his head as if he could read my heated expression like an open book, “it’s hard hearing
‘no’ for the first time. But we all get over it.”

  He lifted his hand to pat my arm and I just about erupted on him, sure my rage could source the lava from some fiery pit inside me and everything.

  “What’s your problem, man? Sometimes I want to—”

  “If you want something Princess,” Gilles whispered, “you should just ask.”

  My breath hung in my throat. I was hyper aware of his body inches from mine, reeling me in like a magnet. He was so close, those fingers laid provocatively against my arm. I leaned ever so slightly forward…

  Gilles shrugged abruptly. “But as you’ve made abundantly clear, you have not asked. So that’s that.”

  He moved around me and continued down the hall, leaving me breathless and flustered in the empty hall.

  It rattled me that there was such palpable compulsion in me to lunge at every one of my watchmen, even (and especially) that asshole Gilles.

  Strange things, Sy had whispered last night. Strange things on that ship.

  Well I guess so, because holy hell was there some sort of pent up sexual energy that wanted so desperately to be spent in this tower. Fortunately, I had better things to do than be man-obsessed outside the parameters of my mission.

  My vulnerability would not be squandered on that bastard first. All bets were on Jude. If it was anyone, it was him.

  I just had to work up the courage I needed to confirm it.

  “Pass this to Saylora. You must try it.”

  “What is it?” I reached for the goblet as it danced from hand to hand around the table, finally landing in my own.

  “It’s a spiced drink from Old World Dramon Dagma, back when the mages only practiced healing magic,” Jude said as the others clasped their own chalices to their chests for warmth.

  We’d compromised— mornings we’d eat in the ladylike dining room I preferred, but dinners we’d have here in the alcove off the kitchens. I didn’t hate it, actually; in here, it felt less like we were a hodgepodge team sharing in pretend regality, and more like we were a family moving through the inconsequential nooks and crannies of our own home.

  The aroma of my drink twisted into the air and I couldn’t help but gulp it in with the steam. I smelled cinnamon and ginger and red pepper, and my tongue was too heavy with its impulses to wait patiently. I took a sip.

  “Oh— ow, that’s hot!” I said, trying to make it sound like a casual warning as I avoided spitting searing liquid across the table. I set my drink down so as not to tempt myself. I couldn’t afford to burn my tongue off. It had a lot of work to do.

  “I think we should talk strategy,” Sy said, voice quiet as usual, “and consider the alternatives to breaking the curse.”

  “There are none,” I said, leaning back into my chair. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Whether it was because I now had something to prove, or I’d just come out of an interrogation with an enchanted mirror, entertaining any curse-breaking efforts other than falling in love was not going to fly.

  “How do you know?” Dash asked.

  He was sitting beside me, and under the table I touched fingertips to his thigh. Nothing too invasive, just a nice friendly reminder of the benefits of physical touch.

  “I had a little chat with a certain all-knowing friend of ours and she made it quite clear that there’s no other way to escape except by breaking the curse. And if I can’t break this thing, pretty sure strategy won’t matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I looked across at all of them and it hit me suddenly that these men… they had no idea how irrevocably our fates were bound.

  “It’s not just me who’ll return to the Grimms’ dream if this curse isn’t broken,” I said quietly, even my cockiness not enough to compensate for such a bleak truth. “You’ll all be coming with me.”

  I found my eyes on Gilles with the confession of these last words, and for a moment— just a fleeting, unanticipated second— I witnessed his mask slip. Under it was fear.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s my curse to break. There’s nothing any of you can do for me except play house while I do some soul searching.”

  “Forgive us for not wanting to sit idly by while our fates are sealed along with yours.”

  I raised my eyebrows in challenge. “Forgive me, Gilles. I was under the impression that all I’d done up until this point was lay idle myself, so aside from the fact that I am literally the only one who can break this thing, I think it’s pretty much my turn anyway. Unless you don’t trust me to handle it.”

  “I trusted the girl on the ship. I don’t know this one in front of me, but I am fairly certain that I don’t like the place responsible for making her.”

  “That place made the girl a woman.” I stared Gilles down, trying to find the balance of confidence and duty I was caught straddling on two different fronts. His eyes watched me with that try-hard laziness I knew he did all he could to manifest, as if he didn’t care.

  But the fact was, Gilles cared too much. Whether it was about me or being free, it didn’t matter. Because if things went according to plan, he’d be getting some of both.

  My gaze swept over all of them, and was met with looks of weariness, pride… defiance. What I’d said was true; this curse was my burden, and if I was some sort of leader to these men, even a haphazard street-rat of one, I had no choice but to lean into it. After all, it seemed to be a secret standard for most unexpected leaders— to attempt to accomplish something in the face of that which they had no chance standing against.

  Under the table, I dropped my slipper and touched my toes to Jabari’s shoe. Conniving little siren, planting seeds for her garden. Maybe one would blossom into love with a little cautious watering.

  “What are the terms to breaking this curse?”

  I stared across the table at Sy, and unspoken words passed between us as I begged him not to push the question. After a lingering scan of my face, Sy grabbed his fork. “We should train you at the very least.”

  I watched him carefully and as he looked up to take a bite, I inclined my head ever so slightly to thank him for relenting and not forcing me to show my cards.

  “Awfully optimistic,” I raised my eyebrows, smiling. There might be no contingency plan if I couldn’t break the curse, but there was a lot of work to be done if I did.

  “You give us reason to be,” Sy said simply.

  My heart was stirred by such effortless faith in me, no questions asked.

  I turned to Gilles, staring him down without breaking eye contact. “Alright then. I want to learn archery.”

  With weapons on my mind, I surreptitiously slipped the dinner knife into the folds of my skirt. Gilles narrowed his eyes and I smiled sweetly until he bowed his head in agreement.

  “Perfect. Tomorrow, then.” I raised my glass high. “All in favor of Saylor kicking ass and taking down a wicked queen!” And then also remembering how to run a whole fucking kingdom.

  I looked around but none of them got it.

  “You lot,” I sighed, “are sometimes the biggest buzzkills.”

  “To our princess,” Jude raised his glass, and I was surprised to see Sy lift his goblet to second this immediately.

  Something sunk deep into my belly at the sight of their toast: responsibility, and a claim on something which felt undeserved— a throne.

  Because frankly, Gilles was right. I had no idea who I’d been on the ship that brought us to Abduult. I’d known my duty then, and accepted it. I’d looked for my father; I must’ve been someone with integrity. But I didn’t know how I’d fared with my powers, if I’d been meek or tough-skinned, if perhaps these men were used to the more delicate aspects of feminine company than the rough around the edges human I offered them now.

  No— I had no idea who I’d been, and I had no idea how to be who they expected. But I was going to have to figure it out, because even if my men were part of it… it was up to me to play this game.

  And win.

 
Chapter 7

  Girl Who Burned, Girl Who Ran

  The view was growing on me, the height from the terrace no longer so frightening that it haunted my appreciation of the scenery. The waters along the coast lapped at the shore, scattered moonlight breaking across its ripples. The roll of water hummed gently in the distance.

  “I still believe you should try it.”

  I turned to see Jabari behind me. He was clad in all black leathers, his sea-foam eyes glinting in the light spilling from the hall.

  “Try what?”

  “To fly.”

  I smiled and leaned out from the balcony’s edge, welcoming Jabari’s unobtrusive presence. “Do you know how to give me wings, Sandman?”

  “Alas, no.”

  “It’s cool. I’ll learn to spread my wings in other ways.” I slid my eyes to him. “That’s a metaphor.”

  “I know,” he smiled.

  “Just making sure.”

  His eyes were bright as he considered the stars. The thing I liked most about Jabari was how he never seemed to speak unless his words were worth saying. It was a trait I definitely didn’t have. I was beginning to suspect that out of all of my watchmen, Jabari was the most trustworthy… and also the most dangerous.

  “What was it like, with all of us on the ship?” I asked. “I mean, with me being the only chick and whatnot.”

  “Much like it is now, I suppose.”

  “Really? There was this much…” I shook my hands, looking for a word that held enough weight, “…tension?”

  Jabari laughed. The sound was gravelly and course; perfect for a man from a land of sands. “You had a certain naivety back then, Saylora, a coyness that came with your youth. I do not believe you had ever felt truly free to be yourself until you saw that palace slip out of view. With us, you were… a butterfly training its wings. That, too, is a metaphor.” Jabari winked at me and I rolled my eyes, unable to help the smile.