Page 108 of Song of Her Siren

His feathers rattled at the nerve-racking cackle in her voice. “The siren is without her mates.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “All of them?”

“Her alpha is demon possessed.” He swallowed against the burning in his throat while neglecting to mention exactly what demon was possessing the firemage. “Her other two were involved in the dragon attack.”

“Ahh.” She let out another burst of grating laughter. “So, one of my demons finally got through.”

Gordin struggled to find the courage to correct her assumption. After weeks of trying to penetrate the white witches’ inner circle, her demons hadn’t gotten through. Instead, The Darkness had found a way in by cleverly infecting the Avias family hound.

“And what news of my sister?” she asked, her three eyes hopeful.

Gordin breathed out a slow breath while preparing to land the first blow. “She is in a dungeon below Malvolia’s castle.”

His mistress frowned, though she didn’t seem too upset. “Has she taken over her host’s body yet?”

Knowing she wouldn’t be happy with the news, tension wrapped a noose around his neck. “No, Mistress.”

“I’m disappointed.” His mistress frowned, then reached for the pitcher of blood. “I thought my sister was stronger.” She took several gulps of the pig blood, grunting and groaning between each gulp in a disgusting act of insatiable greed.

“Her magic is very powerful, but her spirit is weak.” He regretted the words that poured out of his mouth the moment he’d said them. He couldn’t help it. His frayed nerves made him so.

She let out a screech, like a hawk diving for a mouse, and threw the pitcher of blood at him. It struck the floor by his feet, splattering all over his boots. “I didn’t ask for your opinion!”

“Forgive me, Mistress.” Innards churning, he bowed low. So much for the bitch losing her strength. Gordin feared she’d make a full recovery.

“Is that all you have to report?” she asked on a snarl.

He shook his head. “The city of Thebes is at its weakest. There are reports Queen Malvolia has gone mad since losing her familiar.” He averted his gaze when that third eye centered on him. “Now is the best time to strike.”

She leaned forward, her talons curling into her blankets. “There is something you’re not telling me.”

He rubbed his trembling hands down his trousers while trying his hardest to stem the rising tide of fear. “The white witches have unearthed the book of demon spells.”

Her hiss was otherworldly, like the sound of blood pouring onto a scalding forge. “Then the minotaur you turned failed, which means you failed. You should have searched harder for that book.”

He decided not to remind her that the book had been spellcast so that only a white witch could find it or open it. “The siren hasn’t unlocked her siren song,” he added, in hopes of assuaging her ire. “Or the spell to close the portal.”

She flashed bloody fangs. “Not yet.”

“Which is why we should strike now,” he said, his feathers standing on end as he prepared to evade her magic.

She motioned toward the bed. “Do I look like I’m strong enough to launch a war?”

“You need not do anything, Mistress.” He shifted from foot to foot, unable to control the terror buzzing in his veins. “Your fleet is waiting for your command. Let them ravage the Fae lands while the other white witch is away and before the siren unlocks the spells.”

All three eyes narrowed on him. “And who will lead my fleet?”

He turned up his chin while schooling his features into a mask of neutrality. “I will lead in your stead.”

Her chest rose and fell, her nostrils flaring, reminding him of a wounded, wild animal. “So you can take all the glory?”

He took a big step back when her gaze centered on his crotch. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mistress.”

“You would, and you will wait to attack until I’m recovered. I will lead my own fleet.” She waved him away with a flick of her claws. “You’re dismissed.”

Gordin knew he should’ve left. Let the mistress find out about The Darkness on her own. Curse the poisonous magic that leached into his veins, preventing him from betraying his mistress, even as he knew she would lead him to his demise. “Forgive me, Mistress. My spies have reported to me something else very disturbing.”

She released a huff of air, her breath like a poisonous fog. “What is it?”

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