54. Soren
Chapter fifty-four
Soren
“I’ve found her, Father. My love match.” I watch the curve of his statue’s lips until I imagine them twitching, curling into the smile I remember so well.
My father reveals no emotion, his expression preserved for eternity with stern, sightless eyes. I reach for him, curling my fingers around the marble shaft of his royal scepter.
She may be a killer. She’s deadly; she has fangs and claws and a penchant for blood. Given the choice, she’d eat all her food wriggling and raw. She hates the sun and the heat, two things my kingdom thrives on. By all accounts, she and I should not make sense together.
But I’ve listened to enough should statements in my life, and I will not add this one to my list. Enna is the only being in the sea who has matched my fire, who has equaled me in her passion, her fight, her intelligence, and her care. If I lose her, I will never forgive myself.
Footsteps echo through the hallway, disturbing my reverie. My mother approaches, skirts hissing across the floor. Her face is hollow and weary. “The captain said you’d be here.”
“Did she now?”
She stops at the base of my father’s statue, staring up into his stern, marble face. “He was happier than this, wasn’t he?”
I grunt. “The mouth is all wrong. Too straight.”
“Indeed.” She nods to the empty slab of marble next to him. “You’ll be there, too, someday.”
The unspoken catch drops between us: but you need a wife first.
“The council met this morning,” she starts after a few moments of silence. “To discuss next steps. You need another suitor. Lord Almar has proposed using the pendant on every eligible female in the sea until we find your queen.”
I flinch, recalling the scent of sizzling flesh, the look on Enna’s face as she watched her princess boil alive. “I want that thing swallowed by the depths of the sea.”
“You know, when you wore that wretched necklace, Aris wasn’t the only one who spoke.” My mother studies me with knowing eyes.
“Tell them there’s no need.” I brush my thumb over the marble handle of my father’s scepter. “The council will no longer meddle in my marriage prospects. No more arrangements. No more suitors paraded into my court.”
“Is this about the handmaid sleeping in your bed?”
I cannot help the grin that spreads across my face, warming me to my toes. “I love her.”
“I was afraid of that,” she sighs, answering my smile with one of her own. “I just hope you’re right about her. Love matches are hard to find and harder to keep.”
“I’m right, Mother. I can feel it in my bones.”
She cups my arm and squeezes gently. “Then go get her, son. If you say she’s worthy, who am I to argue with the king?”