Page 24 of Of Song and Scepter
“And you think I have time to read it word for word?” She returns her gaze to the window. “Come now.”
“Princess Aris arrived without Abyssal military support, as requested, per our agreement with the king.” He flips a page and squints, dragging his finger over the paper so as to not miss anything important. “She did bring a handmaid with her, which shouldn’t be an issue according to Clio, because she’s not exactly military, but she is a bit—”
“Oh?”
“The handmaid is—” Hugo shuffles the papers, searching for the answer.
“Siren,” I fill in, lifting the knife and angling it to catch the light. The mystery of her will surely become the talk of Aquisa, replacing my name in the beach gossip. Who is she? Why would a magic-wielder choose to become a handmaid? And why can’t she seem to walk straight? My wicked dancer, ruffling the gills of the entire kingdom.
Not mine.
“Yes, Your Highness, so it seems.”
My mother turns to Hugo. “This is the Abyss. Are we truly surprised by that? Tell me, Hugo, is there anything interesting in that report?”
“Nothing unexpected, Your Majesty. She’s pleasant. Poised. Royal.”
I set down the knife, adjusting it to lay perfectly parallel with the spoon.
The queen shakes her head, clearing the distant look in her eyes. “Excellent. Soren, you must woo her properly. You’ll be wed on the full moon, and you can finally take your seat on the throne. Now, wouldn’t that be nice.” She smiles at me. The expression is the closest thing to affection I’ve seen her muster in my life.
I chew on my bottom lip to contain my smirk. “You believe I do not know how to woo her properly?”
Hugo hides his smile by busying himself with a crooked vase of flowers.
My mother’s glare burns with a command toobey. I lift my goblet and take a long pull.
“I’m well aware of my duty, Your Majesty. And after that council meeting, you certainly need not remind me of it.”
With a clamor of metal, the doors open, and our guests wander in. My mother softens her glare into a sudden picture of matronly welcome.
The Abyssal Princess, clean and swathed in dripping pink silks, enters. Her silver hair coils in a thick tower, adorned with shells, flowers, and a string of pearls to match the pattern of her chest piece. She bows to me, lifting the fabric of her skirts to reveal a pair of soft white feet. When she smiles, her teeth are round and smooth.
Rising from my seat, I bow at my waist. “Welcome, Your Highness,” I say.
My mother smiles warmly. “Yes, indeed,” she says, extending her arms. “Come. Let’s have a look at you.”
Aris glides forward, revealing the pale figure lurking in the doorway.
The wild female from the beach is fully clothed in clean, white skirts and a simple chest piece. Her hair still sticks up at all angles, which someone has attempted to tame with a tie around her head, holding her bangs away from her sharp face. She stepsforward on unsteady feet, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the bright light of the crystal chandelier. The way her lips pucker in disgust—it suddenly makes me want to cut the damn thing from the ceiling. Her gaze sweeps the room, pausing on me briefly. Her mouth twitches, one dark eyebrow arching up, as those deep purple eyes hook into my soul. The eyes of a predator. Sweat pricks the back of my neck, and that godsdamn itch begins anew.
“Beautiful, darling,” my mother says. “Now turn for me.”
Aris spins slowly, her skirts swishing around her feet. She lifts her chin and straightens her posture with the smallest of adjustments, falling into a poise. She finishes her spin and curtsies.
“Our fashion suits you. Don’t you think so, Soren?”
“Certainly,” I say, stepping closer, and her pale blue gaze lands on me. She smiles sweetly, the white of her cheeks staining pink at my compliment.
“Thank you, Your Highness. You are too kind.”
By the end of this moon cycle, if all goes well, this beautiful stranger will become my wife. I know the part I am to play—I’ve been practicing for this role my entire life. So I smile in return and take her hand, lifting her soft fingers to my lips.
I sneak a glance at the handmaid, who’s watching me with curved lips.Is she disgusted?Her eyes smolder. Instead of avoiding my stare, she meets it head-on and cocks her chin.Wild thing.
Heat floods through me, and I tear my gaze away.
I kiss the princess’s hand, and I feel nothing. No zing. No excitement. My heart races, but not from touching her.
