Page 79 of Of Song and Scepter
“Please, join us, my lady,” I say.
Three pairs of eyes snap to my face—my mother’s darken, Aris’s flash, Enna’s burn with purple flames. In her three weeks here, not once has she joined us for a meal, aside from the tavern. The shadow-guard smiles coyly, stepping around the table carefully until she reaches the open seat. Aris and the queen track her movements like she might explode. I pull out the chair and help Enna into place, signaling for table service. My fingers brush her shoulder, her skin still dewed with seawater. Aris’s hand clenches around her fork.
“Good morning,” I murmur. I sink into my chair, tasting the words, wishing them into being. Enna came back to me. Itmustbe a good morning. I place my hand on her knee.
She stiffens, staring at the back of my hand. I squeeze her knee, soft and reassuring. Whatever is wrong, I will help her get through it. I’m here.
But she doesn’t look at me. Her eyes lock on the edge of the table, glazed. She fumbles with the pouch tied to her hip, fingers digging deep into the leather cavity. Her spines lift out of their sheath.
“Soren, darling? Are you quite all right?” I look up to the curious gaze of my betrothed.
Mother taps her spoon on the porcelain edge of her teacup. She frowns at me and fidgets once more with her necklace.
I drop my gaze back to the pouch, to Enna’s fingers now pinching a long, golden chain. Slowly, she places the shell pendant into my palm. It warms at my touch.
I close my fingers around the shell. She stole this from my room last night, and by the look in her eyes, she knew exactly what she was doing. Somehow, Enna learned the magic of this necklace and decided to take it for herself.
My knuckles pop from the pressure of my grip around it. Did she use this weapon on my people? What was she doing with it in the reef?
Enna brushes my wrist, her touch soft and timid. I assess her gaze once more. Those purple eyes swim with a chaos of emotions—sadness, confusion, fear—like she might burst any moment. The corners of her eyes prick with moisture. Her bottom lip quivers, and she mouths,Please.
At that word, my anger melts. Enna may be vicious and unpredictable, mysterious and guarded, but she’s never struck me as malicious. In her heart, she is good. I can feel it. And she knows Aris better than anyone in the room.
There is no turning back now.
“Aris, darling, I have something for you. A little early wedding present, if you will.” I bring the pendant to light. The metal rests against my palm, glowing softly at my touch.
Aris’s eyes widen in delight as I hold the necklace out for her admiration. I’ve only ever heard the rumors of Eero’s spell,never seen it in action. What will the pendant do when the princess finally speaks?
While Aris flutters in a show of excitement, Enna’s body turns to cold stone. Her hands grip the table, her bare knuckles bone white. The spines in her arms lift, long and wicked.
Aris lets out a delighted gasp. The pendant warms in my hand, and the room holds its breath.
Chapter forty-seven
Enna
Odissa flutters her fingers,peering at the glowing shell in Soren’s hand. She grins, locking her gaze with mine.
“It’s beautiful, Soren,” she says. “A wedding gift? For me?” Her voice is musical, sweet. Loud enough she should be dead.
If this necklace doesn’t work soon, I’m going to kill her myself, slide my knife right through that pretty throat, and watch it bleed all over her cinnamon cake.
I clutch the side of the table. My claws dig deep, carving trenches in the wood. Is the necklace a fake? Did I misinterpret that old queen’s diary?
Odissa reaches for the necklace, fingers stretching. “I’m ashamed I don’t have anything for you—”
Time slows to a spiralfish’s crawl as several things happen at once. The shell’s glow, soft and golden moments ago, turns an angry shade of red. Odissa’s voice gurgles on the wordyou.
She shrieks, and her hand whips up to clutch at her neck. Glass shatters and water slides across the table setting, soaking into the napkins. Her face crumples with agony; her top lip rises into a snarl. Her eyes widen, the blue fire in them extinguishing into a bitter mist. The shriek morphs into a scream, raising the scales on the back of my neck.
The shell begins to hum, its tune an eerie echo of Odissa’s screams. The skin of her neck glows brilliant red and begins to smoke. She claws at her throat as she chokes. The smell of cooked flesh burns my nostrils. Her skin bubbles, black boils spreading. She eyes the pendant, eyes feral with fire.
My heart thunders a frantic beat, and I watch in horror as she lunges across the table, crawling through the shattered glass.
“Enna!” Odissa’s palm slices on the edge of a shard. “Do something!”
The command compels me to stand; I cannot disobey. The blood oath churns in my veins, seizing control of my body. My chair tips from the force of my movement, clattering to the floor. Blood surges to the tips of my fingers, and my hand lifts, reaching for her against my will.
