Of Sea and Song

by Chanda Hahn

  “I’m not scum,” Fang snarled. He pointed a meaty finger at him. “You couldn’t find the girl. I did.”

  “That’s because she’s weakening. We could only get glimpses of where she was when she hit dry land.” The speaker pulled a familiar stone out of his cloak, and I groaned.

  The bounty hunters found me. But why would they traverse an ocean to find me? There must’ve been way more valuable targets than me.

  “Still not my problem,” Fang muttered. He took a drink from his hip flask and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I say, my fee has gone up. I want more money. Me and Thorn both. We have our own score to settle with that one.”

  “She is no longer your concern. We’ve settled up. Now go.” The bounty hunter pointed toward the steps.

  I laid as still as possible for most of the exchange, focusing on regaining feeling in my numb hands and legs with little movements, since they bound my arms and feet. With my mouth covered, I was at a serious disadvantage.

  Another man came out of the shadows behind Fang. He leaned over the table, and the one lantern on the wall illuminated his ugly mug. It was Thorn.

  He cracked his knuckles to show how powerful they were, like meaty hammers, weathered and calloused from working the lines and sails at sea for years.

  “We want what’s coming to us,” Thorn added. “We’ll take nothing less.”

  The bounty hunter became silent. He nodded to the other two figures in the room, and they left up the stairs. I saw a trapdoor open in the ceiling and then close after they departed. It sounded like a trunk was dragged over the opening.

  I couldn’t believe the bounty hunter’s stupidity. He left himself alone with just Thorn and Fang. They had him by sheer size and numbers. And I almost felt sorry for the bounty hunter when Thorn reached for the snap on his belt to release his whip. He wound the end around one fist and snapped it, creating a garrote.

  The man in the hood didn’t seem intimidated by the whip or Fang, who sat at the table and placed his muddy boots on the top.

  “Half.” Fang tapped the table. “We want half of the reward money. Or we will kill you and take the girl ourselves.”

  “You really are foolish,” the man said. “You do not understand who you are dealing with. I have no desire for the bond set on the girl.”

  He raised his hands, and I could see a glint of silver in his palms. It was the dagger. How did he get his hands on the enchanted dagger?

  Fang gave a silent order, and Thorn attacked. He flicked the whip, and as the man raised his hands, I heard a silent whisper of power, “Crescere,” and it blasted Thorn into the dirt wall.

  Roots grew out of the wall and wrapped around Thorn’s neck, arms, and legs, immobilizing him. He tried to struggle against the enchanted roots, but they squeezed tighter around his throat, and he gagged.

  “The more you struggle, the tighter they squeeze,” the leader warned.

  Thorn stilled, but his nostrils flared in fear, his body tense.

  I struggled even harder against my bonds, fearful, because the sorcerer seemed powerful.

  “Aaah!” Fang attacked. He rushed the leader, trying to catch him off guard.

  But Fang was old and slow. The other man spun with grace and ease, avoiding Fang’s blow, and he unsheathed the dagger. Fang hit the other side of the cellar wall and, like an enraged bull, charged a second time.

  “Immobulus.”

  Fang stopped midattack. Everything but his eyes were frozen as he looked around and tried to cry out in frustration.

  The bounty hunter lifted his hand and pulled back his hood to reveal a man with dark-blond hair and unfeeling green eyes. He held up the dagger, looked at the red stone in the handle, and murmured, “I wonder.”

  With deadly accuracy, he turned and stabbed Fang in the heart.

  I turned away as Fang cried out in pain, and then the cry faded as he died. A thud followed as the spell dissipated and Fang’s body fell to the floor.

  “Oh, so not just anyone will do.” The man sighed. He was studying the stone in the dagger and pulled it from Fang’s dead body, wiping the blood on the edges of his cloak.

  My body shook, and I struggled to inhale with the gag in my mouth. I couldn’t take a deep breath, and I was choking on the cloth. My whimpers alerted the man to my wakefulness.

  “Ah, so the sister is finally awake.” He kneeled in front of me and held out the dagger, tapping the hilt on my forehead.

  I recoiled at the touch.

  “You continue to surprise me.” He leaned back on his heels and cocked his head as he studied me. “But I should learn my lesson that anyone trained by her would have a few surprises up their sleeve. But I have a few of my own.” He pulled back the sleeve of his cloak to reveal a firm and muscular arm lined with tattoos. I recognized them for what they were—blood magic runes. Which meant he was an apprentice, but who was his master? He was strong in magic and gaining power daily. Very strong, and part of his skin was still raw and red from his newest tattoo.

  I mumbled through my gag and tried to talk. Maybe if he took it off my mouth, I could fight him.

  “Ah, ah, ah. I know who you are. I know of your gifts, Meri, so I dare not take off the gag, but I fear it is unfair, since you do not know me.” He sheathed the dagger and placed it on the lone table in the room.

  “I’ve met your sister Rosalie, or should I say my sister.”

  I blinked and held my breath. I knew him, or had heard of him. He was Rosalie’s half-brother Aspen, Prince of Florin. He was the sorcerer Allemar’s apprentice, who had taken on the body of the late King of Florin, and Eden and Rosalie trapped him in the daemon realm. Until Allemar tricked Eden into releasing him. Now, Allemar was free—or at least his soul was free. His body was trapped in the other dimension.

  “Ahh-en,” I murmured.

  He grinned. Aspen was easily one of the more attractive men I’d seen. He fled Florin by ship. No wonder he could follow us so fast. He was tall, not as tall or built as Brennon, but he had an air of authority about him. But I knew there was a chink in his prideful armor he wore, and that was his sister, Rosalie. I heard about their battle and how she easily defeated him.

  “You do know me.” His grin widened.

  I knew how to play him against himself, and he never lived in a household full of girls like I did.

  I rolled my eyes.

  He scowled, his nostrils flaring. He leaned near me and grabbed the back of my hair.

  I winced but kept from making a sound.

  “Whatever my sister said, it’s lies,” he hissed. “I’m stronger now than I was a year ago.”

  I steeled my expression and pretended to look bored.

  Which only set him off even further. His grip tightened, and I felt the hair rip from the back of my neck. Fire ran through my scalp, but I was the champion of playing cool. Well, not really, that was Rosalie; she was the ice queen. My emotions were usually as turbulent as the ocean, so I channeled my sister. I ignored him, letting my eyes glaze over and giving just the barest of shoulder shrugs.

  His attractiveness disappeared into a mask of rage. “I will prove it to you.”

  He rolled up his sleeve and headed over to Thorn, who was trapped against the wall and for the most part still hadn’t moved a muscle, hoping that he would be forgotten, but that wasn’t the case.

  Aspen reached for Thorn, and one of the tattoos on his arm glowed as he grasped Thorn’s forehead. Thorn squealed in pain, his eyes rolling back into his head, and then he stopped struggling.

  Aspen was breathing hard, and he pulled away. Thorn’s head fell toward the floor, his entire body limp. Aspen rolled his head in a circle, shrugging under the new power he received from Thorn’s life energy. Then I understood who he was and his motives.

  He worked to gain power by killing. Blood magic. The darkest kind, and he did so under the guise of a bounty hunter. No one would think twice about the bodies he left behind or the money he collected as a reward.

  Then
I made the mistake of crossing his path and gave him a shot at revenge on his sister.

  I thought Fang’s death was terrible, but Thorn’s was worse. I dry heaved and had to fight against the impulse. If I threw up, I could choke on my vomit and die.

  Breathe, I told myself. Breathe in. Breathe out. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine myself back at home. Safe in my bed. Safe from everyone, even myself.

  Aspen was back with more abuse. His hand reached for my throat, and I could feel the power in his thumb, the one that pressed just enough to feel the frightened pulse in my neck.

  “You’re the weak one,” he mused, pressing ever so slightly on my throat. “Beg,” Aspen whispered.

  I glared at him and shook my head.

  “Beg, and I will think about sparing your life.”

  Never had I felt so powerless, useless. But I had pride, and a daughter of Eville doesn’t beg.

  I clenched my jaw and glared at him.

  His thumb pressed on my jugular.

  I choked. The pressure intensified, and I kicked with my bound feet at his stomach.

  He released me for only a few seconds, but it was enough to catch my breath. I tried to crawl away from him. Then he was back on me. His sturdy hands grasped around my throat, and he squeezed again. He was playing with me, teasing me, trying to show me his power. And I hated him for it.

  “Come on, I expected more of a fight from you. Sing your way out of this.”

  “Mmmff!” I cried, and Aspen’s face drifted out of focus.

  I was useless, my body gasping for air like a fish. I saw the trapdoor open, and light streamed down the steps.

  “Enough,” a voice called, and Aspen stilled in his assault. Someone had joined us and took a seat at the table.

  Sirena.

  The sea witch reclined in the chair. She wore a black wrap dress similar to the style of Isla. She looked almost normal. In her hands, she held the conch shell filled with my blood and that siphoned my powers and life.

  “My daughters are not to their fullest yet. I need her alive until the counter curse is complete.”

  “No,” Aspen argued. “I will kill her.”

  Sirena drummed her fingers along the conch in thought.

  “You will get no joy in killing her, for she is barely a shadow of her former self. Or have you ignored the curse mark upon her skin?” She raised her eyebrows and pointed to my shoulder.

  Aspen snarled, grabbed the lantern from the table, and held it up to my shoulder, inspecting the curse. “What is it?”

  “I would have thought with all your training and tattoos,” she teased, “that you would understand.”

  “Don’t taunt me, old woman.”

  “Old woman?” Sirena stood up, and I could feel the crackle of energy about her. “Old woman. I am by far more powerful than you. You who pretends at magic. Who has no real affinity for it unless you do that?” She sneered and gestured to his blood runes. “I’m real. You are just a fake.”

  “I will kill you.”

  “You can try.” Sirena placed the conch carefully on the table and picked up the dagger. “But then you will never get what you seek.”

  “It didn’t work. You promised me—”

  “It will work. It just needs the strongest magic of all to activate it.”

  “And what is that?” Aspen snarled. “I have no more patience for you or your riddles.”

  “Love.” Sirena cackled. “You asked for revenge and a way to bring to power the one you seek. It will do both. If she plunges it into the heart of the person she loves—” She gestured toward me. “—she loses her love, and you get what you seek. Quid pro quo.”

  “Obviously, it hasn’t worked yet. Because neither has happened.”

  “It’s because she hasn’t been properly motivated yet.” Sirena stepped around to kneel in front of me. She ran her hand over my head. “You hold out, hoping there will be a way to save yourself. How very noble of you… and stupid.” She slapped my face. Stars—bright, flashing stars—filled my vision, and the room spun.

  “But there isn’t. You will die, and for what? For a man who can’t marry you but will always love you. Oh…” She clasped her heart. “It’s so romantic. The true love kind.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled into an evil grin.

  Sirena must have read the confusion upon my face. “This can’t happen until after the wedding. Then, you will murder him on his wedding night, and my daughter will rule both the kingdoms and appease the sea and sky.”

  Did she not understand who Brennon was and the power in his bloodline? Did she only care for the title of queen and not saving the Undersea?

  I shook my head.

  “I thought you would say that. But what if he didn’t return your love? What if he never knew who you were? Had forgotten all about you. Then, could you kill him?”

  What was she talking about? She couldn’t be serious. Why would Brennon forget me?

  She moved back to the table and picked up the dagger. Sirena unsheathed it and cut at the bonds on my feet then my wrists. I immediately reached for the gag at my mouth, but she put the dagger against my throat, and I felt the slightest trickle of blood.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  My hands dropped to my lap.

  “You will stab the prince through the heart on his wedding night. If you won’t do it for yourself, then I will force my daughter Velora to kill Brennon, and you will die regardless. For she also loves him, but she is more afraid of me.” She smiled cruelly.

  “I will do it,” Aspen said, reaching for the dagger.

  Sirena pulled it out of his grasp. “Fool, you can’t activate its magic within the stone. I told you only love can. You don’t even understand that emotion. It’s useless to you.” The sea witch turned her attention back to me. “Now, don’t get distracted or act all noble, because it will be done.”

  I rubbed my hand over my shoulder and the white mark that was growing toward my heart.

  “Don’t even think of trying to kill yourself by draining your magic to get out of the deal. You would really die over a nobody prince who has forgotten you?”

  She snapped her fingers, and I felt the spell emanate from that snap. It shot out like a wave and hit me in the chest before passing through the walls and into the city. I wasn’t sure what happened, but there was a feeling of foreboding afterward.

  She waved at Aspen, and he pressed his finger to my forehead.

  “Somnus.”

  Sleep overcame me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  My head was pounding, and I rolled over, the soft blanket wrapping around my feet. I opened my eyes and saw I was back in my bed in the palace.

  Had I dreamed it all?

  I sat up, wobbled over to the mirror, and gasped at what I saw in the reflection. Purple bruises covered my neck. A distinct four and one pattern in the shape of Aspen’s hand. My jaw felt sore, and there was a distinct cotton-mouth feeling in my throat. I knew it was real.

  “H-hel-lo,” I rasped out and grimaced.

  The angry prince did a good job of incapacitating me. I wasn’t sure if I could sing a spell to save my life now.

  “Just great.” I winced again and reached for the pitcher of water, pouring myself a glass to try to soothe my throat, but it hurt to swallow, and most of the water ended up on my dress.

  Opening up the wardrobe, I found a few more dresses Lucy added, and I quickly changed into a deep-blue one and made the most of my hair. But the bruises would need some glamour. I struggled to hold on to the spell. The bruises disappeared, and then every time I swallowed and felt pain, the glamour faded and reappeared. I was nowhere near as strong as Eden. I reached for an emerald silk scarf and carefully wrapped it around my hair and then draped it around my neck. It would do.

  I headed to the door, saw the dagger on the bed, and contemplated leaving it. My hand went to my throat as I remembered being kidnapped by Fang and then his fateful end. Maybe it was better to be armed if I
couldn’t use my magic. Digging through the wardrobe, I found a belt and wore it under the dress. Tying the six-inch dagger sheath to the belt, it was barely discernible under the flowing skirt.

  As I stepped into the hallway, I heard a familiar heavy tread, and my heartbeat picked up. I turned as Brennon came toward me. A blush rose to my face as he drew near then passed me without a second look.

  He must not have noticed me with the head wrap.

  “Brennon,” I called after him in a croaky voice, and he stopped. Slowly turning, he gave me a curious look. I pulled the scarf from my hair, and he stared at me blankly.

  “Do we know each other that you would address me so informally?” he asked and looked back toward the main hall. It seemed he was in a hurry.

  The sea witch was right. It was as if Brennon himself was twisting the dagger into my heart. It couldn’t be true.

  “I just… uh, wanted to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding.”

  “Thank you,” he said stiffly and turned.

  “Uh, wait!” I called out in a panicked voice.

  He pivoted around. His body language was stiff and formal. “Is that all?”

  “I wanted to know if you love your fiancée?”

  He frowned. “What kind of question is that? Of course I love her. She rescued me from the sea witch. If that’s not genuine love, then I don’t know what is. Now, if you are done pestering me, I need to return to my beloved Velora.” He spun and left without giving me a second glance.

  My feet were sinking into the palace floors as my world caved in on me. I leaned against the wall, pressing my forehead to the cool stone, and prayed to the stars above. This did not happen to me. The sea witch had truly cursed me. The man I loved forgot me.

  I scratched at the mark on my shoulder and wanted to scream, but only a raspy gargle came out of my throat. I couldn’t even release a single note that sounded close to singing.

  “Vas.” I pushed away from the wall, ran down the steps, and searched the palace for Vasili. I explored the study, the dining hall, the gardens and outdoor patio, and couldn’t find him. One servant passed me by, and I recognized Lucy.