Page 22 of Seas and Scepters

But it wasn't too late.Not yet.

With newfound determination, I moved to my wardrobe and selected a dark blue dress—the color of midnight and of the deepest ocean trenches, where light never penetrated.The symbolism felt appropriate.I dressed methodically, my fingers working the tiny pearl buttons with a precision that surprised me.Months ago, such a task would have been beyond my abilities, my hands unused to anything but the fluid movements required beneath the waves.

Once dressed, I slipped into the corridor, pausing to listen for signs of movement.The house was quiet.Most of Madam Lydia's girls were either still asleep or had gone to watch the royal procession.Lydia herself had mentioned attending a celebration hosted by one of her wealthy patrons—a merchant who supplied silks to the palace.

Perfect.

I moved silently down the hallway, my bare feet making no sound on the plush carpets.Lydia's private quarters were at the far end, behind an ornate door inlaid with mother-of-pearl.I had never been invited inside, but I had seen her emerge with various treasures over the months—jewelry, exotic perfumes, and most importantly, a collection of ornamental daggers she kept displayed in a glass cabinet.

The door was locked, of course, but Nell had taught me the rudiments of picking locks during one of our late-night conversations."A useful skill in our profession," she had said with a wink."You never know when a client might fall asleep with his purse still tied to his belt."

It took several attempts, but eventually the lock yielded with a soft click.I slipped inside, closing the door behind me.

Lydia's rooms were as opulent as I had imagined—all crimson velvet and gilded furnishings, with paintings of mythological scenes covering the walls.I spotted the glass cabinet immediately.It stood against the far wall, filled with daggers of various designs—some with jeweled hilts, others with blades curved like a crescent moon.

My eyes were drawn to one in particular—a silver dagger with a handle shaped like a mermaid, her tail forming the grip, her arms outstretched to cradle the base of the blade.It was meant for me.

I lifted the glass carefully and took the dagger, testing its weight in my hand.The blade caught the light, flashing like scales beneath clear water.It was sharper than it looked, the edge finely honed.A drop of blood welled from my fingertip where I had tested it, and I watched with detached fascination as the red droplet slid down my skin.

Human blood.My blood now.

I concealed the dagger in the folds of my skirt and retraced my steps, careful to lock Lydia's door behind me.Back in my own chamber, I sat on the edge of my bed, the dagger resting across my palms.The blade seemed to pulse with purpose, as if eager to fulfill its destiny.

All I needed to do was find Eirik before the ceremony.I knew the palace well enough from his descriptions—the private garden where he often sought solitude, the hidden passages that allowed the royal family to move unseen through the crowded halls.I could slip in amid the chaos of wedding preparations, find a moment alone with him, and—

My hands began to tremble.

And what?Plunge this blade into the heart of the man who had shown me more kindness, more genuine affection than I had known in centuries of existence?The man who cared nothing for my station but everything for my soul?

I had killed before.Twelve men had died at my song, their faces frozen in ecstatic rapture as the sea claimed them.I had felt nothing then but cool satisfaction at completing each stage of my trials.But this—this would be different.This would be looking into eyes I knew, feeling the warmth leave a body that had held mine with such tenderness.

I couldn't do it.

The realization crashed over me like a wave.I could not kill Eirik, even to save myself.Even to reclaim my kingdom.Even to fulfill my sacred duty as heiress to the throne of the seas.

Which left only one alternative.

I stared at the dagger with new understanding.If I could not kill Eirik, and I could not bear to remain human and watch him marry another, then perhaps there was a third path—one that would free us both.

The thought brought an unexpected calm.

I would die as neither siren nor human, caught between worlds just as I had lived these past months.But at least my death would mean something.It would be a choice—perhaps the first true choice I had ever made.

I moved to my desk and took a sheet of fine paper from the drawer.Dipping a quill in ink, I began to write:

Eirik,

By the time you read this, I will be gone.Not by your side at The Siren's Call as you hoped, nor standing in the cathedral as you feared, but somewhere beyond reach of both sea and shore.

I could not come to you last night because to do so would have been to doom us both to half-lives of regret and longing.You were born to be a king, to lead your people with the wisdom and compassion I have glimpsed in your heart.And I—

I paused, unsure how much to reveal.In the end, truth seemed the only fitting farewell.

I am not what you believe me to be.The woman you held in your arms, the woman you claimed to love, is but a shadow of my true self.I am a siren, Eirik.The very creature your ancestors made pacts to protect against.The monster who sang your men to their deaths that night on the dark sea.

It was my song that failed to claim you, my failure that led to my father casting me out in human form, cursed to remain so until I completed my task by killing you with my own hands.

But I find I cannot.Whatever magic transformed my tail into legs did not protect my heart from falling in love with you.And so I choose a third path—one that frees us both.

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