Siren - Hazel Grace Page 0,22
the Viking?”
She looks over the room. “He’s nothing we can’t handle. But we truly need to find out why he’s here. If his people know about the cuff, more of them could come. And we need to know how he got through the veil.”
“Like Isolde said, maybe he’s a siren.”
Nesrine gives me a look. “He’s no siren. He isn’t built like one, he doesn’t feel like one. I would know, I’ve been the closest to him.”
I open my mouth to ask her what in the world she did but refrain. “A spell maybe?”
“Possibly.”
I draw my brows together. “You don’t think Taysa would let someone on our island.”
“Not if she wants to live.”
“We wouldn’t know either way,” I counter.
“Not unless we find a way to get the Viking to talk.”
“Is his boat gone?”
“Been gone for over two days, they may come back.”
“I read Vikings are loyal, I would think they would.”
“Remember it’s only in a book,” Nesrine warns. “Not everything you read is true.”
“Make a move,” Brylee warns. “And we’ll slit your throat right here.” Easy to say when her twin sister already has a blade positioned there.
Removing the metal from my skin, Atarah steps away from me, rounding my body to stand along with her sister.
With a large bowl of water, Brylee hunches to the floor and spills it over the white tiles, letting it puddle out in whatever way it wants.
“Sit,” Atarah orders. I mimic her glare but decide to abide by her request.
The women sit on the other side of the puddle, knees touching each other, while I look back and forth between them. If it wasn’t for their different colored hair and eyes, I’d never be able to tell the difference between the two.
Deep-set eyes, creamy skin, and a slightly pushed-up nose, each of them wear their little crowns on their heads as to remind me of where I am and who they are.
Like I need the reminder.
Atarah peers down at the puddle of water, her white-rimmed eyes turning brighter and more vibrant.
“Take your time,” Brylee states calmly.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snap. They ignore me, as Brylee focuses on Atarah gawking at the water.
“Sorry,” bellows another voice in the room. “I couldn’t get past Nesrine.” I glance up to see Isolde walk into the room.
“You haven’t missed anything,” Byrlee offers. “Take a seat.”
I roll my eyes, now having three of them in the room like this is going to do a fucking thing to make me speak.
“He’s irritated that he’s here,” Brylee suddenly states. “He didn’t think he’d be captured so he came alone.”
“So, he is stupid,” Isolde conveys, pulling her pink hair into a bun of some sort as she takes a seat on the floor.
I don’t even get the opportunity to send her a glare because Brylee shakes her head. “That’s not possible.”
Isolde looks at her. “What isn’t?”
“He didn’t think we’d be here. He didn’t believe we existed.”
Fuck.
More superpowers that I can’t compete with. This keeps me in a dangerous spot because my secrets need to remain just that. If they find out more about why I’m here, I have a feeling that tonight is going to be my last night on this island.
“His facial expression states he’s in shock,” Isolde mutters.
“Wouldn’t you be?” I retort.
She presses her lips together. “No.”
I roll my eyes.
“A mission,” Brylee frets softly. “In front of a group of men who all wear the same clothing as him. Furs wrapped around their shoulders, burly men.”
Her words take me back to my village, where my father publicly announced that I was coming here. Where my men roared with excitement and hope that we’d obtain the item I came here for and be protected against any further invasions from the Highlands.
Atarah and Brylee are reading all of my thoughts from today. Which would mean they’d learn about my mission.
“Didn’t you mention a woman?” Brylee asks.
And I was thinking about Edda today too.
I try to think of more things other than the most important. What I had for breakfast today, how I missed my people, how I wanted to go home and fuck a beautiful lass that resembles—
A hand slams against my cheek, sending my head to the side.
“Watch your thoughts,” Brylee fumes. “You won’t be getting your dirty hands on our sister.” I neglect the sting tingling my flesh because it’s working. The harder I think about something, the more it muddles my thoughts from earlier.
“I was afraid that was going to happen,” Isolde whispers. “He’s in love with