intrude into my shoulder. For the abrupt ache of pain to start penetrating through my back. Followed by a sharp exhale of air on Davina’s face as she peers up at me with expanded green eyes.
My rage—it’s gone. As though Rohana sucked it out of me and drew it into herself. But it doesn’t change the fact that I stand here in chains with a knife in my back that was meant for her or that she wants to make me a pet to torture mentally and physically.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispers.
I wince when I move to lean closer to her. “I told you that you’re mine. And I’ll be the one to punish you.”
“This is going to hurt,” Nesrine warns, suddenly at my flank, then tugs the knife from my back.
“Fuck,” I bellow, making Davina flinch.
“Put pressure on his back,” Isolde chides, before doing just that and sending another wave of pain down my spine. “Or he’ll bleed to death.”
“Geezus fuck,” I seize. “Stop touching me.”
“Oh my goodness. Did I do that?” It’s Rohana, her voice timid and upset. Now I know why Davina didn’t want her to use her powers. Every emotion I felt, Rohana acted it out, and if it wasn’t for Davina’s sisters, she would’ve been fucked.
“It’s fine,” Nesrine replies nonchalantly. “He’s a big man.”
“That’s a lot of blood,” Rohana conveys.
“How deep did you go?” Isolde asks. Then I feel something insert inside my wound, a gut-wrenching twist in my stomach before blackness takes over my whole body and takes me to some peace and quiet.
Standing in front of a large fireplace, I can feel the heat dry my already dehydrated skin. But the flames remind me of the pain and mental suffering I’ve endured over the last few years. The sacrifices I’ve made to keep my sisters and father safe, as well as our kingdom from the Hunters, and the desired spell that wanted to cease their freedom.
Our people used to come to this island freely, able to roam the land, but after so much time had passed, I envied their being able to go home. So I banished the amount of Sirens that could come here.
I’m the lost princess of Lacuna that they never see anymore, and I miss my friends. I miss the creatures I adopted and the underwater cove that holds all the things I found in shipwrecks. I endured the loss of the sea for so long that it feels like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. A restless and lost being who roams a piece of space with no purpose or use of anything.
The patter of footsteps softly echo off the hall outside the study, allotting to my sisters’ presence. They were going to see if they could drag anything out of Dagen while he was in and out of consciousness. Isolde tells me he’s sweating profusely, that it’s called a fever and some humans don’t make it afterwards.
I guess I won’t fully get my revenge after all.
That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. All the things that happened to him were his own fault, and he had no one else to blame. Nothing on this island belonged to him.
“You need to step away from the fire,” Atarah mutters softly, her hand wrapping around my arm to gently pull me away. “You’ll burn your pretty skin.”
She knows it won’t. I can burn myself alive and nothing would happen. Somehow I can pull from the sun’s heat and radiate it from myself. Dagen was the first one I’ve ever tested it on, still didn’t get him to talk so, again, the worthless part sinks in a little deeper.
“We have some news,” Kali offers as all my sisters find seats to take in the sitting area. I glance at her to begin, but her amber eyes fall onto Atarah.
“Go on with it,” I urge, sitting in between the twins.
“He came to for a few minutes,” Kali states, twisting her orange hair around her finger. “Atarah and Brylee were able to seep into his thoughts to see if he was contemplating anything.”
“And what did you find?”
“Confusion,” Brylee mutters. “He was trying to remember what happened before he fainted onto the floor.”
“Then you,” Atarah resumes.
My brows furrow. “Me?”
“He remembers looking down at you and into your eyes,” Brylee sets forth. “How he wished the tables were turned. And how his coming here was a mistake.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Things are getting worse,” Isolde pipes in, clasping her hands into her lap. “He’s starting to