Daughter of the Siren Queen - Tricia Levenseller Page 0,75
do?”
“It’s fine, Riden. I can handle the truth.”
He pulls a hand down his face, as though trying to erase the tension there. “I don’t hate you or your abilities, Alosa. I only needed time to adjust to them. To get over everything that happened to me in the past.”
I’m quiet for a moment. The horror of what I almost did still swirls inside me, like a storm waiting to be unleashed. There’s just too much that I’m feeling right now. Too much for me to be silent.
“I can’t get over the way you acted when I saved you,” I say. “You made it seem like I sing to men for sheer enjoyment—as if they’re toys for me to play with. You should know by now that the only time I use my voice is when I need to protect my crew. That includes you. When you fell in the sea, I didn’t think, Riden. I didn’t remember our deal. The only thing I could think about was the fact that you were in danger. I acted. I jumped.”
My voice gains strength as I talk, as I fill the words with meaning, with emotion. The way humans do, not sirens.
“But even if I had stopped to remember,” I continue, “I would have made the same choice. I couldn’t help myself. When it comes to you, I have no control over my actions.” Those are the same words he said to me after we escaped the cannibal island. I can see by his face that he remembers, too.
“I know that,” he says. “I know that you never use your abilities for your own amusement. It’s just not the way you are. In the moment, I couldn’t see that. It was easier to believe you were manipulating me just like my father used to than to think you were saving me because you actually cared. I can’t take back the way I acted after you saved me. But honestly, this”—he gestures to the salt water in the tub—“these moments where we work on controlling your abilities, they’ve helped me grow as much as you.
“You are perfect just the way you are,” he continues, “and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”
I want to pull his face down to mine. Kiss him until I can’t breathe. His eyes intensify, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. It sends a searing heat all the way down to my toes.
Riden breathes in deeply. “You’re doing it again, Alosa. You’re furious at yourself this time. You feel guilty for what could have happened. And you’re looking for a distraction.”
So what! I want to snap. How does he read me so damn well? Why does he keep the siren at bay? What is it about this blasted man?
Before I can say anything, his eyes land on my arm.
Where Sorinda cut me.
“Can I help you with that?” he asks.
If he expects me to keep my hands to myself, then no. “I’ve got it. Would you tell Niridia to send someone in here to get the water out of my tub?”
“Of course,” he says.
He leaves.
I head for my wardrobe and bandage my wound alone.
Chapter 17
I REQUIRE CONSTANT UPDATES on the fleet now. They’re drawing closer and closer. It occupies my mind at all hours of the day. That and the havoc I almost unleashed on my own ship.
On top of that is the guilt I feel at my parched crew. It’s so strong, I find myself taking my meals later than most, just so I don’t have to watch them drain their meager rations.
I sit down to my dinner a few days later, the galley nearly empty. Kearan and Enwen are at a table together, Enwen doing all the talking, of course. Kearan slumps in his seat, the rationing affecting him more than the others. He’s refused to drink rum with his dinner.
“What you need, Kearan, is to take your mind off things,” Enwen says.
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Want to hear a joke?”
“No.”
“A pirate at sea has a peg leg, a hook for a hand, and an eye patch. One of his companions asks him how he lost his leg.”
“Please stop,” Kearan begs.
“He answers, ‘A cannonball.’ Then his companion asks how he lost his hand. He answers, ‘A sword.’”
“Enwen, I will knock you unconscious,” Kearan threatens, but I can tell he doesn’t have the energy to carry it out.
“When the companion asks how he lost his eye, the man says, ‘A spray of the sea.’”