Page 10 of Surfaces
And I’d gifted him with a protective necklace that would stop most magics from hurting him. Of all the men in that entire damned stadium today, he’d probably been safest.
Lashing out at him for leaving wasn’t an option, however, because while I’d known he was safe, he certainly hadn’t. I’d given him the necklace to counter a spell that had been dumped on him at the opening ball of the tournament, one that made him speak to me in insults. As far as Radford knew, that was the extent of the necklace’s power. I hadn’t revealed I’d let him wear my rare and valuable elven chain. I didn’t know him well enough for that.
Obviously, I didn’t know him well at all.
I’d seen a jovial whale-tamer with a drawl, a man who stood out from the many city-born sirens who were as memorable as … well … smooth river rocks. But as he stood there in front of me, rubbing his freckled neck with a calloused hand, I realized that he wasn’t quite as tough as I’d imagined him to be. I’d thought his career might make him okay with the unpredictable. I’d thought that coming from the sands of Nowhere, he might bring a different perspective to my court and be a valuable addition to my group of husbands.
Apparently not.
The rejection stung even though we hadn’t been a love match, and I’d cried so recently that tears were my natural response.
Unacceptable.
I could feel Felipe’s haughty fury wafting through the water as he stood behind me. I envisioned it infusing me, filling me up, because that sort of emotion was preferable to the impostor syndrome niggling at me. If I could misjudge Radford, how faulty was my judgment in other areas?
I felt a fool.
I stared at Radford, trying to embrace my anger and coax it to grow, and eventually, he felt pressured enough that he opened his mouth to speak.
“Your Majesty, we’ve been honored to—”
One of the sirens next to Radford snorted derisively, a man with short black hair shaped into four spikes framing his forehead.
“—honored to compete. But sometimes, you realize that something isn’t a fit. I don’t belong in that castle. All those sirens and servants and etiquette rules. Only a few whales to speak of …” he shook his head. “I thought this would be a new adventure. And we get along well enough. But it feels like trying to put your pants on backward. It’s just not right. And it’s not fair for me to waste your time.”
Sard him. Why did he have to sound so reasonable?
Why couldn’t he just be an ass about it so I could hate him and feel justified in binding him to stay?
Dammit all.
I felt like glaring at him for derailing my budding fury and making me feel as though I was sliding across a sheet of ice. It was a struggle to smooth my face so that it was as placid as a pond. My insides didn’t match my expression, however. They were a complete mess. I took a deep breath before calmly stating, “I understand.” I gave a half nod in his direction before turning to the snorter.
He was one of the sirens who’d made almost no impression on me. His bulging eyes were the only thing that set him apart. His name was Illia or some such thing, and all I could remember about him was that he’d swum down from Sky Stones in the north, a city that had sunk beneath the waves several centuries ago when Macedon had a massive earthquake. Sirens had taken over the city.
Illia hadn’t spoken much, and I’d assumed he was a bit shy like Stavros. Perhaps shell-shocked by the palace. Now, I wondered about his intentions for joining the tournament in the first place. The sneer on his face made me think he’d never planned to get very far—but I couldn’t tell if that was because he’d come in as a skeptic and detractor or if he’d merely wanted bragging rights back home.
“And you?” I let my voice lash out.
“Tired of nearly getting killed,” Illia’s sea-green eyes dared me to contradict him. “Seems like you can’t go two days without someone trying to whack us off. You’re pretty hated.”
“One of the many downfalls to royal life,” I agreed, though in my head I thought,With a mouth like his, I’m surprised death threats aren’t a regular occurrence for him. I would think this would all be old news.
“Not every royal’s life,” Illia countered. “People respected Mayi.”
“I happen to believe fear and respect are different,” I argued.
“Bullshite. That’s the thought process of someone who’s never had either.” The fourth siren, who’d been silent thus far chimed in, his deep voice reverberating in my ears, that ugly truth sinking deep, dragging up every dark doubt I had about myself.
I turned to stare at him. He had the palest blue eyes, which bulged slightly from his face; one of those faces that could either be extraordinarily handsome or extraordinarily disturbing. Right now, I only saw the latter.
For a moment, I was plunged back into the caves with Mayi, back into darkness and cold and doubt. I was surrounded by ashrays, ghosts of lost sailors, who swirled around me like grey mist and whispered terrible things into my ears.
“You’ll never see home again.”
“All your wishes are for nothing.”
“The sea will swallow you up just like she did us.”
