Page 112 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

The room was silent for a short moment. Suddenly, an Elven protector approached the queen slowly and whispered something in her ear.

The elves were a stunning race. The protector's white hair was the length of his neatly embroidered robe, which flowed with each movement he made.

The queen raised a brow and dismissed the Elven man.

“Oh, Lincoln, I do not care if you drink our water. What I do find interesting, though, is this siren you speak of? She boarded your ship?” She leaned back against her throne and smiled. “This story has become a lot more interesting. Go on.”

The injured captain cleared his throat. “She was taken by Wentworth. By now, they most likely have reached Zemira, and—”

Queen Cassia’s exaggerated laughter reverberated through the grand hall. “Oh, stop,” she said, standing to her feet. “Your siren is alive, pirate. My dragons found her five miles off the coast. She escaped Wentworth on her own.” A smile reached her lips. “She even took on a Kraken.”

Lincoln’s eyes widened. “She...she’s alive?” He ran his hand over his face. “How—”

“Lincoln,” Nola’s voice came from behind him. He turned quickly to see Nola standing between two of the queen’s protectors, wearing a long scarlet dress and sparkling tiara upon her head.

The pirate rushed to her, sweeping her up in his arms. “Nola! You’re here,” he said, dropping his hands to her waist. His gaze wandered slowly down her body. “Why are you dressed like a princess—?”

Her honey-colored eyes twinkled, but she pressed her lips together.

“Because she is a princess,” the queen quickly answered for her, stepping down from her throne. “Our efforts to find the lost princess after King Matthias’s army attacked our land were to no avail. We believed she died along with her mother, Maydean.”

“The Siren Queen?” Lincoln asked, turning back to Nola.

The siren placed her hand on his cheek, caressing her thumb gingerly over his skin before she dropped her arm to her side. “Lincoln, my father was King Argon of the Fae.”

Nola watched him as his eyes widened before glancing over Lincoln’s shoulder at the queen.

“Cassia is my family,” Nola said, “Recognition swept over me the moment my toes touched the soil. The land, the dragons, the elves—the memory from my infancy is still engraved in my mind.”

A princess,he thought—a Fae princess.

Muddled thoughts warped the captain’s mind, causing confusion. He was happy she was alive and there in his arms. But he also saw clearly how unworthy he was of her.

It was not just because she was a Fae princess, but because his father had murdered both her parents. He was asking for her to love him, regardless of the family he was born from.

Lincoln stepped forward, closing the gap between them, burying his face into her hair. If whatever he had with her was to end, he would make that moment last for as long as he could.

He slowly leaned in—his long fingers intertwining between the strands of her hair. His mouth claimed her lips, relishing in the savoring taste of her tongue. The need to never let go, if only to breathe, wrapped deeply in Lincoln’s mind and body. As their lips parted, he kept a possessive hold on her—his mouth swelled from their touch. The pirate ran his hands down her cheek, wiping away a fallen tear.

“Lincoln, I—” A smile flitted across her mouth as she felt his warm breath linger near her lips. “I love you.”

The words came out with no regret. Being away from her beloved captain those last two days had burned in her heart. It was relieving to see him alive. Touching him. Feeling his warm fingers on her skin. She did not want to let go. Not then. Not ever.

Lincoln placed his hand over hers and muttered softly in her ear, “And I love you. Nola, I love you with all my heart.”

The intensity behind his voice caused her heart to flutter.

The siren clung to his strong shoulders, not wanting to release their touch.

Lincoln looked down at her with adoration in his eyes. Seven days; it had only been seven days, and yet his heart throbbed for a girl who told a different story than his. Her story was of a warrior who left her land to fight for an entire nation—a girl who wanted to be ordinary but was not.

Nola’s eyes peered down at her dress. She looked up to Lincoln’s torso. “You are bleeding, my love,” she said.

He nodded. “I need the Fae’s water.”

Nola had refused to tell the queen why she had come to the Eastland Forest until the crew had arrived. Cassia might have been her aunt, but the siren did not trust easily. She needed Lincoln by her side.

“Please heal him from his wound, Your Majesty,” she begged. “And then I shall share with you the true reason I ventured here.”

---