Page 16 of Rise of the Siren Queen
“You look troubled,” she said, her tone gentle, but with the knowing edge that made it clear she had sensed my unease long before I had knocked.
I sighed, swimming slowly toward her and taking a seat across from her on a cushion made of woven anemonas. The soft texture of it pressed against my tail as I settled in.
“I just returned from the caves,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck.
She watched me for a long moment, her expression unreadable, though her eyes never left mine. “You saw the human then. What are your opinions regarding him?”
I felt a shiver down my spine at her question, a sharp and sudden jolt that twisted its way through my chest.
An opinion.
The word swirls in my head. It was such a simple thing to ask, yet it stirred something dark and painful within me. My hands trembled slightly, memories clawing their way to the surface like a rising tide I couldn’t control.
The last time I had an opinion, I didn’t listen to my parents. And that got them killed. The sting of deception was extensive, a wound that had never truly healed.
It wasn’t just their death—it was the gnawing guilt that haunted my conscience, the suffocating ache of knowing that my choices had played a part in their downfall. I’d been so certain, so defiant in my belief, that I knew better than anyone else.
But I was wrong. Horribly, unforgivably wrong.
The image of my ex-fiance’s face, the way his expression had twisted into something cold and monstrous, flashed before me. I could still see the blood on his hands, crimson staining his once-familiar fingers.
My parents’ blood.
The disloyalty cut was so raw that sometimes I felt like a knife lodged in my soul, twisting every time I dared to let myself trust someone new.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I looked at my grandmother. She didn’t know, no one truly did, how that moment had shattered me. How every decision since then felt like I was walking on broken glass, afraid that one wrong step would rip me apart again.
“My opinions don’t matter, only your ruling grandma,” I said respectfully, my voice low and heavy with the pain of my past. “Especially when they blinded me from the truth.”
“Iryen,” she whispered, the sharpness in her eyes melting into something gentler, more understanding. “Do not underestimate yourself. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to bear. But do not let the ghosts of the past control your future or let fear dictate your decisions. You are more than the mistakes you’ve made. Trust yourself.”
“I will try,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “But sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, their shadows are always there, waiting for me to make another mistake.”
I wanted to believe her. To hold on to the hope she offered, to let myself think I could be more than the girl who had once loveda murderer. But the scars ran deep, and the echoes of my parents’ voices, silenced too soon, still horrified me.
My grandmother reached out, placing her hand over mine, her touch warm and reassuring in a way I desperately needed. “Mistakes are part of life, child. But it’s what you do after that defines who you are. That’s all you need to do, my dear. The rest will come on time. Now tell me about the human?”
I hesitated, the words tangled on the tip of my tongue. How could I explain what had happened without sounding like I’d lost control? But, Ihadlost control.
My pulse quickened as the memory of Adrian’s wide, startled eyes flooded my mind. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself.
“He saw me,” I blurted out before I could think twice.
Grandmother’s soft smile appeared, her eyes gleaming with understanding that made my heart clench. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face with the gentle affection she’d always shown me.
“What do you mean, saw you?” she asked in that patient tone of hers, as if nothing could surprise her. “We predicted interaction with him and knew he would see you, eventually.”
“No, Grandma,” I shook my head, feeling a rush of exasperation at her calmness. Couldn’t she see how dire this was? “He saw my tail!” I said, the urgency creeping into my voice.
I watched as a flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes, a rare slip in her usual composed demeanor. But, as always, she quickly masked it, her expression softening once more. Still, the brief crack in her calm made my stomach twist with unease.
For a moment, she was silent, as if carefully considering her response.
“Yourtail?” she repeated quietly, her tone thoughtful, though I could tell she was weighing the implications. “That… complicates things.” Her brow furrowed slightly before she asked, “Did you discover if he is a hybrid or not?”
I felt my hands tighten into fists at my sides, my throat constricting and the panic I’d been holding back rushing to the surface. Iknewhe was a hybrid, but I couldn’t tell her. The council would force her to report the truth if she knew it, and she couldn’t lie to them. I had to lie for her.To her.
“He’s just human,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue, each syllable a betrayal. I hated it, hated having to deceive her, my own grandmother. But if the council found out that a landsman was a hybrid, they would kill him without hesitation. The image of Adrian’s lifeless body, cold and motionless, made me feel sick to my core. I couldn’t let that happen. No matter the cost.
