Page 34 of Of Song and Scepter
Odissa yelps, whirling on me with a gaping mouth, rubbing the spot on her head. The prince touches his face, his gaze sliding to me for the first time since this morning’s awkward encounter.
“Apologies, Your Highnesses.” I duck to retrieve the parasol.
“Are you okay, my lady?” the prince says. His face scrunches in concern. I frown at him, hating him for his kindness. I like it better when he’s angry with me. At least, I’m used to that emotion.
“We can transition to the underwater districts, if you prefer.” He extends his hand, as if to lift me from the street.
I stare at his extended hand. IfIprefer? If we traded places—if he wandered into the dark waters ofmyterritory—he wouldn’t last until his first sleep, whereas I’m doing just fine in his. I don’t need his pity, and I don’t need his help.
“It’s not my tour,” I say, refusing his hand and pushing off the ground. I brush the sand from my skirts.
“She’s fine,” Odissa insists. “Let’s keep going, please.” She grabs the prince’s hand, tugging him down the street.
But when she steps away, Prince Soren stays still, and their hands fall apart. Slowly, he reaches for me, cupping my upper arm. I stiffen, holding my breath, as his thumb hovers over my skin.
“Don’t touch me,” I whisper. My voice sounds unconvincing and weak to my own ears. My spines react, pressing against the constricting glove.
He eyes the gloves. “You won’t sting me today, will you?” His thumb floats closer, nearly grazing my skin.
“No,” I say. “Your Clio made sure of that.”
He smiles, meeting my gaze. His hand is soft against my skin, kind and careful. Slowly, he presses his warm thumb into my skin. My skin flashes from pink to white and back to pink.
He shakes his head. “We should get out of the sun,” he says. “I should have checked on you sooner.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper, breath dusting my ear. “Deepest apologies, my lady.”
His thumb strokes my arm once more, and then it’s over. He plucks the parasol from under my armpit and pushes it open, casting a shadow over my head. With his knuckle, he nudges the small of my back, guiding me to the sea.
Chapter twenty-one
Soren
The reef is ashort swim from the shore, and we welcome the water as a respite from the sun. Sprouting our tails, we glide over the dwellings that cluster around the base of Aquisa's sandbar. A few mermaids poke their heads out of their holes, their bright faces darkened by the shadow of our bellies.
I lead Aris and her handmaid to my favorite part of the reef. Aris twirls in the water, swimming in the most inefficient manner possible so that her silver hair fans out like a cloud. Her hair is pretty, and I suspect she wants me to tell her so. I hold my tongue to avoid the squeal of delight that would undoubtedly come if I gave in to her wishes.
Reedgrass sways in the low current, carpeting the floor of the Coral Gardens. Lush corals and vibrant fish surround us in a symphony of color. The attendants clip and gather ingredientsfor the kitchen, silently drifting away as we approach. The garden district is usually a tourist favorite, and Aris is reacting as I predicted: loudly.
She giggles in that ragged, rolling manner of hers—unexpectedly rough for a princess—and flashes me what must be her hundredth smile since this morning.
The princess is all too easy to impress. I could point to a pile of bird shit and call it myfavorite, and she would squeal like a screamerfish, clamp her hand around my arm, and proclaim it the prettiest shit she’s ever seen.
During our beach stroll, I pointed out the most boring features of the landscape, checking her reaction. I spotted myfavoritespecies of crab, myfavoriteboulder, myfavoriteempty stretch of sand. When the tenth crab crawled across our path and Aris squealed with delight, I had to close my eyes to keep them from rolling.
Where did my mother find her? Is she really Abyssal? Aris acts just like every other female in my court, and I’m utterly bored of her already. They’re all the same—each suitor puts on their own interpretation of my preference, assuming I want a pretty little plaything. Aris is no different. When I look into her eyes, I find a frigid void, hungry not for me but for the power I hold.
I need a queen—strong, fierce, and powerful in her own right. My court is needy; my council, childish. My crown is tainted with years of royals ending in tragedy. My kingdom would eat alive anyone less than a goddess in the flesh. My mother has faired well enough, but only at the expense of her emotional capacity.
So, Aris, unfortunately, might just have to do.
A snapperfish slithers out of its hiding spot, latching onto a passing wrigglefish. The snapperfish twists into a brutal roll, its sharp teeth tearing chunks of pink flesh, clouding the water with blood and sand. Aris curls into my side, as if frightened by thedisplay. The soft tendrils of her tail tickle my own, intertwining and making it difficult to swim.
Enna pushes past us, darting after the flesh, while the snapperfish gorges on the rest of its meal. She snatches the meat from the water and slurps it up.
Aris shrieks again, snuggling closer. Her hand tightens around my arm. Enna glances back at us, smirking. She slides a pink tongue over her fangs. Aris relaxes her grip on my arm, and I grunt as my blood rushes back into the area.
Enna twists over, ignoring us, and uses her hands to push herself over a rock. Her black scales provide a stark contrast with the color around her, somehow reflecting every glittering hue in the brilliant light. I watch her slip through the water, mesmerized by the slick turns of her body.
While the handmaid is a clumsy totter on land, in the water, she is lithe and graceful as a pearlshark. How can Enna be both the female who hopped ridiculously on the beach and this creature of wicked efficiency in front of me now? I study her movements intently, as if the explanation might reveal itself with just a few more moments of scientific observation.
