Page 128 of Rise of the Siren Queen
And secrets.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stared through the glass of my water like it was crystal, watching him twist lies into applause. The ice stayed still. So did I.
Because he didn’t know.
Didn’t know what still slept beneath that island. What it meant to her. What it meant to me.
If you want to protect a secret, you buy the silence around it. Preferably in acres.
The gala was a vision of gold. Chandeliers spilled light like melted sunlight, violins hummed above champagne flutes and crocodile smiles. The elite of Thalassa basked in their reflections, pretending their masks were skin.
I moved through it like a shadow, smiling when I had to, listening always.
Malia stood by the quartet, laughing, her flame-red dress igniting the air. She burned as she always did, bright, unafraid.
And Lorenzo hovered too close. A glass of wine, a joke too smooth, a touch just shy of presumptuous. He leaned in.
My jaw locked.
He wasn’t here at the party. He was here for leverage.
And my sister was just another piece on his board.
But I had games of my own. Senators scattered like bones across velvet, waiting to be arranged. I slipped into the conversation like a blade between ribs. I spoke of legacies, of timeless reefs and historic preservation. Of headlines that would etch their names beneath words likevisionaryandsavior.
They swallowed it whole.
They didn’t care about reefs. They cared about being remembered.
I did as my father taught me, manipulated every word, made promises I’d never keep. Forher, I’d do all of it. Play dirty. Stain my hands in red. Burn every bridge.
Pay every price.
I don’t just want her safe.
I want her free.
I want herhappy.
My father stood alone on the balcony, the sea a black mirror behind him. With a glass of something expensive in hand. Bitterness seeped into every line of his posture.
Philip Nikolai. Governor. Kingmaker. Liar.
And once, long ago, something like a hero.
He didn’t turn as I stepped up beside him. “You weren’t bad in there,” he said.
“Comes naturally,” I muttered.
He glanced over, eyes cutting. “You used to hate this.”
“I still do.”
The wind picked up, tugging at the curtains. Salt. Storm. An underlying change.
“My father built his empire on blood and deals,” I mumbled. “I built mine on silence. And survival.”
He swirled his drink, watching it spin as if it held all the answers. “I almost lost your mother to duty,” he said after a beat. “Don’t make the same mistake with yours.”
