With a fierce spit, I say, “Lira.”
He glances down at the compass and smiles. “Lira,” he repeats, pocketing the small object. My name sounds melodic on his lips. Less like the weapon it had been when I said it. “I’m Elian,” he says, though I didn’t ask. A prince is a prince and his name is as inconsequential as his life.
I lean my free hand against the top of the railing and pull myself to my feet. My legs shake violently and then buckle beneath me. I slam onto the deck and let out a hiss of pain. Elian watches, and it’s only after a short pause that he holds out a wary hand. Unable to bear him standing over me, I take it. His grip is strong enough to lift me back onto my unsteady feet. When I nearly topple again, his hand shoots to my elbow and holds me firmly in place.
“It’s shock.” He reaches for his knife and cuts the thread that binds me to the railing. “You’ll be steady again in no time. Just take a breath.”
“I’d be steadier if I weren’t on this ship.”
Elian raises an eyebrow. “You were a lot more charming when you were unconscious.”
I narrow my eyes and press a hand to his chest to balance myself. I can feel the slow drum of his heart beneath my hand, and in moments I’m taken back to Midas. When I had been so close to stealing it.
Elian stiffens and slowly prizes my hand from his chest, placing it back on the railing. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers and lifts out a small rope necklace. The string is a shimmer of blue, glistening like water under the sun. It’s liquid made into something other, too smooth to be ice and too solid to be ocean. It sparkles against the gold of Elian’s skin, and when he opens his hand, he reveals the pendant that hangs from the bottom. Sharply curved edges stained with crab red. My lips part and I touch a hand to my neck, where my seashell once hung. Nothing.
Furious, I leap toward Elian, my hands like claws. But my legs are too unsteady, and the attempt nearly sends me back to the floor.
“Steady on there, damsel.” Elian grabs my elbow to hold me upright.
I rip my arm from him and bare my teeth monstrously. “Give it to me,” I order.
He tilts his head. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s mine!”
“Is it?” He runs a thumb over the ridges of the seashell. “As far as I know, this is a necklace for monsters, and you certainly don’t look like one of those.”
I clench my fists. “I want you to give it to me.”
I feel maddened by the Midasan on my tongue. Its smooth sounds are too quaint to display my anger. I itch to spit the knives of my own language at him. Tear him down with the skewers of Psáriin, where each word can wound.
“What’s it worth?” asks Elian.
I glare. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing’s free in the ocean,” he explains. “What’s the necklace worth to you?”
“Your life.”
He laughs, and beside him the large man lets out a good-natured chuckle. I’m unsure what’s so funny, but before I can ask, Elian says, “I don’t imagine my life is worth much to you at all.”
He is so very wrong about that.
“Mine then,” I say.
And I mean it, because that necklace is the key to finding my way home. Or at the very least, calling for help. If it can’t lead me back to my kingdom as a human, then it can at least summon Kahlia. She can speak to the Sea Queen on my behalf and beg her to rescind the punishment so I won’t have to.
“Your life,” Elian repeats. He takes a few steps toward me. “Careful who you tell that to. A worse man might hold you to it.”
I push him away. “And you’re a better man?”
“I like to think so.”
He holds the seashell up to the sunlight. Blood against sky. I can see the curiosity in his eyes as he wonders what a castaway is doing with such a trinket. I ponder if he knows what it’s even for, or if it’s just something he has seen on the necks of his murdered sirens.
“Please,” I say, and Elian’s eyes dart back to me.
I’ve never used that word in any language, and even though Elian can’t possibly know that, he looks unsettled. There’s a crack in the bravado. After all, I’m a half-naked girl being held prisoner and he’s a human prince. Royal by birth and destined to lead an empire. Chivalry is in his veins, and all I need to do is remind him of it.
“Would you like me to beg you?” I ask, and Elian’s jaw tightens.
“If you just tell me why you have it, then I’ll give it back.”
He sounds sincere, but I know better. Pirates are liars by trade and royals are liars by blood. I know that firsthand.
“My mother gave it to me,” I say.
“A gift.” Elian ponders this. “Passed through your family from how far back? Do you know what it does or how it works?”
I grind my teeth. I should have known his questions wouldn’t end until he ripped the truth from me. I would give it to him gladly on any other day, but I’m defenseless on this ship without the music of my voice to sing him into submission. I can barely even stand on my own. The seashell is my last hope, and he’s keeping it from me.
I lunge for it once more. I’m quick, even as a human, and my fingers close around his fist in an instant. But Elian is faster somehow, and as soon as my hand locks on to his, Elian’s knife is on my neck.
“Really.” He presses his blade firmly against my throat, and I feel a small slash of pain. “That wasn’t so smart.”
I tighten my hand around his fist, unwilling to let go. The cut on my neck stings, but I have felt and caused far worse. His face is roguish when I sneer up at him, nothing like the sweet and gentle princes I’ve taken before. The ones whose hearts are buried beneath my bed. Elian is as much a soldier as I am.
“Captain!” A man emerges from the lower deck, his eyes wide. “The radars spotted one!”
Quickly, Elian looks to the knife-wielding boy. “Kye,” he says. Just a name, just a word, and yet the boy nods abruptly and jumps the length of the stairs to the decks below.
In an instant Elian tears his blade from my throat and sheathes it. “Get in position!” he yells. He loops my seashell around his neck and runs for the edge of the ship.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Elian turns to me, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s your lucky day, Lira,” he says. “You’re about to meet your first siren.”
16
Lira
I WATCH THE HUMANS jumping from one end of the boat to another, pulling on ropes and yelling words and names I don’t quite understand. At one point the boy with the knife – Kye – trips and slices his palm. Quickly, the tattooed girl rips the bandana from her head and throws it to him, before running to the wheel and lurching it left. The ship twists too quickly for me to stay steady, and I collapse to the floor again.
I screech in frustration and search the decks for my captor. Prince Elian leans over the edge, one arm tangled in rope, the other holding the mysterious object up to the light.