Chapter 31 #2
I grip the rail harder, wishing I had the freedom to step between them. To tell him he doesn’t deserve to wear that crown at all. That it doesn’t sit crooked, it sits bloodstained. That Eleanor shouldn’t have to deal with such a monster.
But I keep my place, knowing that I can only do what’s expected. For now, anyway.
I’m still watching Eleanor when a quiet rustle draws my attention from the quarterdeck.
Nadya approaches, blinking against the sun as the wind plays with her curls.
She adjusts the edge of her shawl, her eyes sweeping across the deck and catching immediately on Sir Holden, who walks the stretch of deck between us.
One of the crew, lean and freckled, hovers near a stack of tarred barrels, a coil of rope slung over his shoulder.
As he shifts his grip, something slips from his pocket—a small, metal tool that clatters across the planks.
Before he can retrieve it, Sir Holden steps forward and picks it up.
Instead of handing it over to the young man, Sir Holden slips it into the crew member’s pocket.
They exchange a look, but the crewman lingers, a half-smile playing on his lips as his gaze drifts appreciatively over Sir Holden’s broad frame. The smile isn’t brazen, but it’s bold enough to spark curiosity.
Sir Holden says nothing, yet when he turns to move on, his eyes catch mine. The look is fleeting, but there’s something sly in it, like he knows I’ve seen everything and he’s daring me to say a word.
I bite my cheek and turn my attention to Nadya, pretending there was nothing to see.
When Nadya reaches my side, she exhales dramatically. “I can’t blame Holden. The sailors on this ship might make me forget all about the barkeep in Podrosa.”
“And the dancer in Bastos?”
She leans on the rail beside me, brushing wind-tossed curls from her cheek. “Mmm, I’ll never forget her. Or her girlfriend.”
My eyes widen and my jaw drops, but Nadya simply laughs, leaning on the rain beside me.
“Still reading that book?” I ask, trying to keep the judgment out of my tone.
A flicker of guilt crosses her face. “I’m sorry. I just…” She hesitates, then lowers her voice. “I’ve been learning things. Big things. Stuff I want to show you when we’re not surrounded by people who might tattle to the wrong king.”
I study her face for a beat, noting the excitement thrumming beneath her words—the barely-concealed thrill that comes when she’s close to uncovering something. A part of me worries what that something might be. But I nod.
“Tonight,” she promises. “If the sirens haven’t wiped our minds by then.”
I nod, nudging her with my elbow.
Our ship docks, and a procession appears on the shore, awaiting us.
The king marches toward the bow, joined by his guards, and the queen tags along like a forgotten pet.
Dante emerges from below deck, his movements slow and steady.
He advances to where his father stands, the sea breeze tugging at his dark hair.
There’s stiffness in his posture, and it makes me wonder if it has to do with returning to his birthplace.
It occurs to me that this may be the first time he’s been to Messanya since his mother died.
We disembark in careful order, the Hederan court flanked by guards in polished breastplates.
Ahead, two Messanyan courtiers await us.
Their beauty is so otherworldly, it borders on unnatural.
The man’s gleaming skin is practically gold, his dark hair curled neatly at his ears.
The woman beside him moves with a dancer’s grace, her pristine, white gown flowing in the wind with a slit that shows off her long, elegant legs.
The sweet song of the Eirenes tickles the hair on my ears. A strange vibration rolls through me. Nothing uncomfortable, though. In fact, I feel the muscles loosen and my mind relax. I glance at Nadya, whose posture becomes less stiff. She slowly sways her head back and forth.
“What is that?” she asks.
“The peacekeepers of Messanya. Their magical song has this effect. Feels like… euphoria.”
Nadya’s smile widens. “It’s incredible. Why would anyone want to leave this place?”
Our procession stops, and I look past the king and queen at the courtiers greeting us. The woman curtseys, and the man bows.
“Welcome to Messanya,” the woman says, her voice rich and elegant. It somehow feels like a warm embrace. “Queen Verina awaits you in the Diapason.” She gestures to a set of carriages.
“Oh, great,” Nadya whispers, taking in the steep road that leads up the mountain. “Just what I need after all that teetering on the ship. More wobbling.”
I manage to nod off during the journey up the mountain, and Nadya has to shake my arm to wake me. I adjust my half-veil and smooth out the skirt of my mourning gown as the coach master opens the carriage door for us.
As soon as my feet touch the ground, I glance around, immediately finding Dante as he disembarks from the king’s carriage. When his gaze meets mine, it lingers, soft and unspoken, as if his eyes alone could trace the curve of my cheek.
We assemble on a tiled walkway, Eleanor taking her place beside the king. He tolerates her nearness, but I know it’s because there are so many eyes on him, watching his every move.
I end up next to Dante, our hands mere inches apart. All I’d have to do is stretch my fingers outward and I’d be able to feel his skin. When I take a chance and glance his way, his eyes find mine, as if he’s thinking the same thing. His gaze softens, and the smallest of smiles pulls at my lips.
The couple who met us at the dock appear before us.
They lead us into the Diapason’s grand entrance, where the air cools my skin and helps to pull me from my sleepy state.
The interior is a marvel—a sweep of polished marble tiles at our feet reflecting glimmers of sunlight from between the metal spires.
Silk banners float from the ceiling, the material waving in the sea-scented breeze.
The Messanyan courtiers are a vision, as if they stepped from the pages of a legend.
Men and women alike wear flowing garments of smooth silks and delicate gossamer in soft, pearlescent shades.
Golden cuffs and anklets gleam against golden-tan skin, and their hair flows loose in waves of midnight black, platinum, and sunlit copper.
Each movement is languid, deliberate, as if they expect the world to bend for them.
I catch more than a few curious glances cast toward Dante. He doesn’t react, but I notice the slight tightening of his jaw.
At the center of the space, flanked by servants, stands a woman who can only be Queen Verina.
She is breathtaking. Taller than most of her courtiers, she moves with the grace of water slipping over stone.
Her long, flowy gown of seafoam green embraces her hips, cut daringly low in the front, the gossamer fabric shimmering as if woven from moonlight.
Long, platinum hair falls in soft waves down her back, and her flawless skin is golden.
It’s as if sunlight melts when it touches her.
But it is her eyes that ensnare me—a shade of violet so vivid, they seem almost unreal.
“King Silas, Queen Eleanor.” Her voice is low and honey-sweet, and though I know the Diapason restrains her magic, I feel the lure of it all the same. She dips her head in the most elegant way I’ve ever seen. “It has been too long.”
Silas inclines his head before stepping forward, his chin then lifted in that regal manner he always carries. “Queen Verina, your hospitality honors us. It is a privilege to stand within the Diapason once again.”
I notice the slight stiffness in his voice, the faintest trace of wariness beneath his polished tone. For all the Diapason’s protections, even King Silas is not immune to caution when standing before a siren queen.
Queen Verina’s lips curve in a knowing smile as she sweeps her gaze over the assembled Hederan court. When her eyes land on Dante, that smile deepens. “It is my pleasure to meet your siren heir. I had wondered if the rumors were true.”
Dante inclines his head. “Your Majesty, I’m humbled by your reception.”
“This is your home, Lord Stregasi. Of course you are welcome here.”
I can’t help but gaze upward at the structure we stand beneath, taking in the details as Queen Verina extends her condolences to the king and queen for the loss of Torbin. This place is intimidating, and the thrum that comes with each gust of wind is almost hypnotic.
King Silas, ever one to redirect the conversation to his advantage, gestures to the coffers his attendants carry forward. “As a token of our gratitude for granting us audience, we bring gifts that reflect the beauty and grace of Messanya.”
The attendants open the chests, revealing an array of luxuries: strands of iridescent pearls, golden jewelry engraved with ivy symbols, and delicately crafted crystal chalices. When King Silas presents the dragon scales, Queen Verina’s expression shows that the gift was unexpected but appreciated.
“Exquisite,” she murmurs, running delicate fingers along the golden scale. “Your thoughtfulness does you credit, King Silas. I hope you find our hospitality equally pleasing.”
As her voice lingers in the air, my gaze drifts to where Queen Eleanor stands, her black gown a stark contrast to the shimmering brightness around her.
Her posture is regal, her face carefully composed, but I know it can’t be easy for her to stand here.
It’s no secret that Dante was born from the affair between Silas and a Messanyan siren.
Whatever the truth of that past relationship, having to be present in this place must feel like a cruel reminder of that betrayal.
“And I see you have also brought Princess Celeste.” Queen Verina straightens her shoulders as she studies me.
I swallow hard and curtsey, unable to read her face. “Your Majesty.”
“Lift your chin, dear,” she says. “You are welcome here. Your father and I were not allies, but your brother did what he could to right your father’s wrongs. King Bennett was a good man, and I mourn his loss. May the gods gather you in their embrace so that your heart can heal.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I swallow hard and fix my focus on the queen. Her words seem genuine, but I can’t help the guilty feeling that lingers in my chest, simply from being the daughter of a man who hated her people.
“I look forward to seeing what kind of queen you become.” She tilts her head, and for a second, her eyes dart to Dante. It’s almost as if she knows.
I know the king has forced everyone to keep the engagement secret, but maybe Queen Verina isn’t guessing his plan. She looks between Dante and me as if she feels our connection. But I’m in a mourning gown, so she dares not mention it.
The queen finally tears her gaze from mine and straightens her shoulders. “My esteemed guests, please allow my chamberlain to bring you to your rooms to freshen up. We have a busy schedule ahead of us.”