Page 89 of Daughter of the Siren Queen (Daughter of the Pirate King 2)

Kearan looks apologetically at Sorinda before saying,“I don’t know how much longer I can continue like this. I’m probably the biggest body on the ship and the most dehydrated. I don’t know that I can get us to the Isla de Canta if I don’t get more water soon.”

“The captain gave her orders,” Sorinda bites out. “We’re not stopping.”

Riden, I notice, is over at the side of the ship, saying nothing. Does he not have an opinion?

“But, Captain—” It’s Roslyn again. “We’re so thirsty.”

“If we don’t stop, we’ll die of thirst,” Niridia says. “I think that’s a worse way to go than in the hands of the pirate king.”

I can’t handle this. Cannot handle seeing their distraught faces. Cannot handle not being able to protect them this time.

And I snap.

“That’s because you’ve never suffered at his hands before!” I look around at all the bodies on the deck, watch the wind chafe at their dry skin. Watch their ragged breathing with open mouths. “You’ve seen him at a distance because I’ve kept all of you out of his clutches. ButI’ve been there. I’ve been beaten until I blacked out. I’ve been starved until I wanted to eat the skin off my own bones. I’ve been chained up in that dungeon so dark and cold for months on end that I forgot the way the sun felt on my skin.”

I take a steadying breath, trying to pull my mind back out of those dark times. “You must trust me when I say, it isfar worseto die at the hands of that man. We. Don’t. Stop.”

They’re silent now. No one has a response to that.

“If anyone tries to leave this ship, I will personally drag youback and lock you in the brig.” And with that being said, I lock myself in my rooms.

I am not at all surprised when the knock comes later.

I debate for a minute whether or not I will let him in. I can’t handle anyone arguing with me.

“Alosa, I’m not here to argue with you,” Riden says.

So he can read my mind on top of keeping the siren at bay? Has he really come to know me so well?

I let him in.

Then I go back to leaning against the mountain of pillows on my bed, crossing my arms, and staring at the royal-red goose-feathered comforter.

“Don’t hate yourself,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is out of your control.”

“I know that. I hate that I can’t save them, but I don’t hate myself for it.”

I can tell he picks up on my meaning immediately. “Why do you hate yourself right now, then?”

This little secret has become a burden of its own. I’ve pushed it from my mind ever since we ran low on water.

“Because I’m not thirsty.”

He cocks a brow.

“Riden, the sea nourishes me. Every time I stock up on my abilities, it’s like eating or drinking. I’m. Not. Thirsty. And my entire crew is suffering. And I just told them that we couldn’t stop, when I’m not feeling what they’re feeling. I’m selfish and horrible.” I draw my knees up to my body, rest my crossed arms on top of them.

He puts a hand on my arm. “You are not selfish and horrible. You are what you are. There is no changing that. If anything, this is a good thing. It keeps you clearheaded, allows you to make the decisions necessary to keep the rest of us safe.”

“Half of them don’t believe me. They don’t see the threat that my father is. They have no idea what he’s capable of.”

“They trust you; it’s just harder when the pain of thirst is clouding their own minds.”

“And what about you?”

He bends his head down so his eyes are level with mine. “I trust you, too. Alosa, if it were my own father behind us, soon to catch us, I would make the exact same choice you are making right now.”

I take some comfort in that, in knowing I’m not the only one who would have made this decision.

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