Page 24 of From the Mouths of Sirens

Saoirse felt herself frowning as he grinned, waiting expectantly for her reply. His charm was infuriating, and his eagerness to not only play her game, but to attempt to beat her at it, was unbearable. It would have been far easier to tolerate him if he had been another cold and distant aristocrat. But beat him at this game, she would.

“You’re right, they hold no sentimental value to me,” she admitted, looking up at him with a forced smile. “Beauty alone does not make something valuable; it must have purpose, usefulness. Though they are beautiful, are they not?” His eyes scanned her hair, his fingers twitching as though he wanted to reach out and touch the pearls.

She lifted her gown and slowly revealed her bare leg. She slid the fabric up her thigh, displaying a blade she had strapped to her leg before the banquet. “I’ll wager this dagger. It was given to me by my mother,” Saoirse lied, hoping that he’d take the bait. “Weapons are far more valuable than silver or gold,” she said, following his eyes as they scanned the blade. Approval danced across his expression. And just as she predicted, his gaze moved to his own waist, catching on the dagger that hung from his belt. To the dagger that Selussa craved and demanded her to procure.

“Much better,” Rook returned with a smile. “I’ll take you up on that offer, princess.”

“And what will you wager?” Saoirse asked. “Perhaps your own blade at your side? A dagger for a dagger?”

He gave a hollow smile, something like suspicion flashing in his eyes. “I think not,” he answered, placing a protective hand on the dagger’s pommel. Rook stared up at the sky for a moment, twirling a strand of his dark hair between his fingers thoughtfully. His eyes lit up and he turned to her. “I’ll wager my favorite book,” Rook told her. “There is only one other copy left in the world. It has to be worth at least a couple thousand gold coins.”

Saoirse swallowed her disappointment and raised her glass to her lips, only giving him a slight nod of approval. Really? A book is the best you can do?

“My father used to read it to me at night,” Rook began, his eyes growing soft. “I begged him to read it so often that he probably hated that story…” his words trailed off and he uncomfortably laughed.

“A truly sentimental prize then,” Saoirse replied with feigned satisfaction, raising her glass in a toast. “To an even wager.” She couldn’t turn away now, even if she wasn’t fighting for the dagger. For one, it would give her an opportunity to see how he fought, to see where his weaknesses were. If he wouldn’t wager the blade, she could at least gather more information about it from him. But most importantly, her pride was now at stake.

He stared at her raised glass for a long moment. His piercing blue eyes met her gaze, sending a shiver down her spine. After a painstakingly long moment, he clinked his glass on her own.

“Then we have an arrangement,” Rook said, giving her one of his dimpled grins. “You’ll bring your two teammates, and I’ll bring mine. We’ll see just who are the better warriors-the Torqen or the Aerials.”

“Do you think it best to duel on the eve of the Tournament? Shouldn’t we be saving our strength?”

“Not if your warriors are as good as you claim them to be,” Rook answered with a grin that made her blood boil. “Besides, it might be good to brush up on my swordplay before the Tournament.”

“If you say so,” Saoirse replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Where are we to meet, Your Highness?”

“Meet us at the eastern sky bridge at dawn,” Rook readily replied. “You’ll have a stunning view of the sunrise,” he added with a wink. “That should console you when you lose the wager.”

“I think you’ll be the one who’ll require a consolation prize, princeling,” Saoirse countered, crossing her arms. If Aurelia was listening to their conversation, she didn’t say anything. Saoirse half expected her to jab an elbow in her ribs.

Behind them, the music suddenly swelled, the beginnings of a waltz echoing through the courtyard. Rook turned to her questioningly, his face the very picture of confidence.

“Care for a dance, Princess?” he asked, cocking one dark eyebrow up. He offered her his hand, rising from his chair with a bow.

She nearly choked on her wine. She stared at his outstretched hand in disbelief, half wanting to throttle him and half wanting to accept his offer. It was truly the last thing she expected to spill from his mouth. Their conversation had been a series of moves and countermoves. This was merely the next phase. Before she could talk herself out of it, she took his hand and rose up from the table, her heart pounding. She steeled herself as she followed him, trying not to look at the tables of stunned attendees.Their game had already gone this far. There was no turning back now.

He stopped at the center of the dance floor and gave her a deep bow, a zealous smile curving his full lips. “Princess.”

13

ROOK

He didn’t know why he had asked the Mer princess to dance. When she first sat next to him, he’d expected her to be hostile, ignoring him all night long. That was how he would’ve treated her had she not spoken to him. He was content in never saying a word to her, in fact. But that was until she opened her mouth and initiated the conversation. From there, his interest in her piqued. Her fire and boldness surprised him. Something had compelled him to extend his arm, to rise from the table and escort her to the center of the courtyard.

I’m merely curious, he told himself as he led her to the dance floor. He wanted to know more about this mysterious princess, wanted to understand who she was and why she was here. Merely sizing up the competition, he reasoned. Nothing more. But he felt the warmth in her touch, even through the sleeves of his jacket. He couldn’t help but notice that when she moved, her translucent scales caught the light and shimmered like iridescent stardust against her skin. The scent of the ocean seemed to waft from her hair.

They stopped at the center of the courtyard, where the majority of the hanging lights glimmered overhead. She stared up at him brazenly, her gaze unwavering as he placed a hand on her waist. Rook took her hand, lifting an eyebrow and daring her to refuse. She lifted her chin defiantly, seemingly unbothered by the dangerous game they were playing. But she wasn’t intimidated by the crowd of people surrounding them, who now stared with open mouths and whispered amongst themselves. She was fearless.

The quartet began a charming waltz, and Rook swept her into his arms. Her pale blue eyes never left his own, her gaze piercing and assessing. She was observing him the way a warrior would observe their opponent before a duel. He had seen that look in many fighters’ eyes over the years.

They spun around the room in time to the music, a wordless challenge growing between them. Behind the polite smile plastered across her face, her eyes were guarded and glittering with hatred. Though they were being as cordial, the tension was palpable in the air. A century of history rose up around them as they twirled, and they both knew it. The world around them seemed to melt away, the sea of observers a mer blur as they swirled in silence. The music swelled and grew, urging them to dance faster. The shadow of their nations’ violent past hung over their every move.

Rook’s ears burned, and he glanced up to see Raven staring at him. In the flurry of swirling skirts and rising music, he had somehow forgotten she was there. The disapproving look on his sister’s face confirmed that it was more than a meaningless dance. As they waltzed in silence, Rook could see his sister’s expression grow darker. Evidently, she didn’t enjoy the sight of her little brother spinning the daughter of the enemy kingdom around the dance floor. In the volatile courts of Revelore, where the nations were held together by frail peace treaties and paper-thin alliances, every move acted as a political statement.

Even a dance.

Rook sensed movement all around him, and he realized he and Saoirse were no longer dancing alone. Courtiers were leaving their banquet tables and bringing their partners to the center of the courtyard. They were tentative at first, but eventually the floor was flooded with twirling pairs of Terradrin, Auran, Tellusun, and Mer.

---