Chapter 16 #2
“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “Call me Arlo. The whole captain thing is a little formal considering our current circumstance.”
“Yes, siren prisoners don’t really have room for that type of formality, do they?” I said.
“My thoughts exactly.” He cut a hard glance at Nixie.
She raised both rose-colored eyebrows at me. “Well, you two are clearly cut from the same strange cloth.” She let out a breath. “Do you need anything else, Elowyn?”
“No. Thank you, Nixie.”
She tipped her head, smiled sweetly, and left us again.
“Elowyn, that’s your name?” The captain—Arlo looked me up and down.
“Yes,” I answered. My stomach tumbled; had he already put together my true identity?
But then the smell of food distracted him, pulling him by the nostrils like a ravenous dog. He grabbed a thick slice of crusty bread and wrapped it around some cooked fish, then scarfed it down in one bite.
“Are they starving you?” I asked.
“Couldn’t tell you,” he said, inhaling another bite. “I’ve mostly been in and out of some strange dream. Until I came to here.”
Lulled. While they searched his mind for details of missing sirens, they’d kept him in that spellbound state. And all they found out was … he could repair virginals.
“So, you really expect me to mend this thing … at a time like this?” He gave the instrument an accusatory look, then turned that look to me.
I nodded yes. If he could actually fix it and this wasn’t a trick, then maybe we could figure out how to get out of here. Ideally with him and his men alive.
“Seems like a tremendous waste of time, but okay. If you insist.” He dusted the crumbs from his palms and turned to the virginal, his long, slender fingers fiddling with the keys.
“Besides the wood being in poor shape, I’m guessing water damage.
Considering where the Infernum we are.” He pressed the keys and looked inside the instrument.
“The action isn’t working here either.” He pointed inside the belly of the instrument.
“The whole thing needs to be restrung; some strings are broken, most corroded.” He returned to the marble table for more food and washed it down with a glug from a pearlescent cup.
That all sounded accurate. The water damage was a given, but the rest surpassed common knowledge of the instrument.
Arlo stood to his full height and scanned the library. Then looked at me abruptly, an idea taking hold. He strode back to the instrument, his boots clacking against the polished marble flooring.
“Here, look at this.” He leaned in close to the virginal, waving me in. “Closer, right here,” he said again, and I leaned in to look with him.
Then his hand ensnared my upper arm, pulling my ear to his mouth. Cedar and salt wafted off him, driving me mad.
“My turn for questions.” His words were sharp. “Why do they trust you?” I tried to pull back, but his grip dug into my skin.
“Let go of me,” I hissed.
“Why are you here and I imprisoned? If you’re not a beast, then why do they trust you?”
“They don’t. I’m as much a prisoner as you.” It sounded as absolutely foolish coming out of my mouth as it did swimming through my mind.
They kept him under lock and key, somewhere with the others, and I was free to roam their halls. But why? What did they want from me?
He looked me dead-on, eyes crosshatching my face, thick lashes fluttering, until understanding flushed his features.
He released my forearm, repulsed.
“You are content.” Disgust scorched each word.
“Content?” I questioned.
“Unless—” He quickly grabbed my face. He held my chin, moving it with those beautiful hands side to side, our faces so near my heart halted.
“What are you doing?” I said, shaking him off.
“They haven’t entranced you, I don’t think.”
“They can’t. Apparently it doesn’t work on women.”
“So why are you playing house cat?” His gaze seared me, the accusation more painful than when he thought I was aiding the sirens. As if accepting my circumstances was a greater offense than deceiving him.
“I am not content.” I scoffed at the assertion like it hadn’t injured my pride. “I tried to escape twice and nearly died trying, both times.”
But Arlo said nothing. Only stared at me as a frown tugged on his lips.
I knew that look well. Pity.
But he did not need to pity me. I fought as hard as I could. But what was the point of resisting blindly, without thought, when I could navigate this situation with strategy? Especially if it meant keeping him and his crew alive.
“Come now, don’t be rude,” Morvyn drawled from across the library.
Fear flickered in Arlo’s eyes, quickly chased by anger.
“Elowyn darling, is this brute misbehaving?” Morvyn sailed beside me. His white hair was swept back, showcasing the edges of his sharp cheekbones. In contrast to Arlo’s raw humanity, Morvyn appeared absolutely otherworldly.
“No, he is not,” I said flatly, stepping to Arlo’s side to make it clear who I stood with. “He simply wonders the same as I. Why am I free and he and the others are not?”
“You’re free to roam Naiadon because Nymphaea brought you here to be saved.” Morvyn’s mesmerizing white eyes flitted to Arlo. “And she sent you here to repent, tiny toes.”
Arlo didn’t flinch or falter under Morvyn’s icy regard. Instead, jaw clenched, he took a step closer.
I gently grasped Arlo’s forearm, giving it a firm squeeze, hoping to calm him. Now was not the time to fight. He flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull away this time.
“Why are you here, Morvyn?” I said, trying to distract the siren.
Morvyn turned from the captain, his ability to make the movement an insult impressive.
“My dear king regent requests I assist the two of you with your little project.”