My stomach soured and I pushed away the plate before me, no longer hungry.
“I’m a prisoner then.” I met his ocean-blue eyes, which seemed kind. But I wasn’t a fool. He thought he could placate me with civility. I would dance the dance for now, as long as I received answers.
“You are a guest,” he said with another polite smile. Niceties were always the easiest mask to don. “Also, Nixie and Morvyn will be your escorts around Naiadon.”
Morvyn choked on his wine. “What, why do I have to play nursemaid?”
Hylos ignored him, keeping his gaze fixed on me. “You are, of course, free to walk my domain as you wish.” He raised a blue brow. “But I strongly recommend an escort for the time being. Few sirens here have encountered a human not behind bars or lulled in quite a while, and there’s no telling how they might behave.”
“You’ll be staying across from me,” Nixie said as we walked the halls together, the latticed glass windows holding back the sea, the ocean landscape just outside. “Elowyn, I want to say … I promise that …” She fumbled with her words but finally settled. “You are safe here.”
“What of the men on the ship? Are they safe? What of the holy woman?” I said sharply.
“We didn’t know women were aboard that ship,” she said, watching me sidelong as we walked.
Buthowdid they know who was and wasn’t on a ship in the night?
Nixie continued, “We avoid vessels with women aboard, to honor the Holy Mother. But also, it’s cruel. We cannot lull women as we do men. So they can only watch as—”
“As every person they dined with that evening jumps into the sea to their death? Yeah, it wasfuckingterrifying.”
I balled my hands into fists. Anger warmed my cheeks. Mad because of the agony I went through. Furious for the drucia rocking in prayer to soothe herself. Where did her body rest now?
Nixie winced. “I’m sorry, Elowyn, for what you witnessed.”
Sorry wouldn’t bring the dead back to life.
Sorry wouldn’t erase the image of the captain plunging into the sea.
But maybe sorry would make her feel guilty enough to offer answers.
Nixie turned into the niche where her room was and opened the tall glass doors across the way.
“This is where you will stay,” Nixie said.
The room was large but far less pink than hers. Light refracted from the sea outside and danced on the walls in rainbows. It was lovely, even if it was a prison.
“Hylos said the men were being questioned. Are you torturing them?” I asked.
“We do notneedto torture them,” she said, shaking her head.
“They tell you freely what they know?” Impossible. Those prideful men would rather die at the sirens’ hands than share any knowledge pertaining to king and country.
“When we lull them, we can step into their minds,” she said.
My disgust must have been blatant, because Nixie winced at my expression but continued, “We can see what they see, hear what they hear. Essentially take over their mind’s eye. We don’t know their thoughts or wants, but we can parse those out through their actions and words. That is enough to knowcertainthings.”
Like charters, mapped routes, or siren capture.
“What if they know nothing? Have seen nothing? What if they’re innocent?” I saw the thought worm its way through her mind as silence sat between us. She knew more, thought more. But Nixie wasn’t the person who held the men captive. Nor who held me captive. She was simply following orders.
“Then I am sure Hylos will let them go. He is a just ruler, as his father was before him. He will not let any harm befall prisoners of—” Of war. “I should go. Let you settle,” she said, unwilling to share further, then turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
I let out a shrill, muted yell. Then sank into the comfort of the large, circular bed at the center of the room in defeat. Billowing lengths of white fabric swept down from the high ceiling, cascading in delicate, gossamer bolts. I let out a breath. From one enclosure to the next.
My eyes drifted to a book on the bedside table. Its cover was stained like it was once waterlogged, and I flipped through it. Words like “passion” and “love” leaped off the pages.
I rolled my eyes. Nixie had likely left it for me. She was trying so desperately to make me feel welcome. But why? And then cold sank into my belly. If she knew who I truly was, of my origin, would all kindness stop?
