She went still beside him. “Your mother is ill?”
He cursed himself for saying anything when he heard the tremor in her voice and knew he had reminded her of her own loss. Still, he had spoken, she had asked, and now there was nothing for it but to give her the truth.
“She Fades,” he told her honestly. “I told you that Sirens don’t survive their mates,tey? Well, my mother has enough Siren in her that my father’s death nearly took her, too. But then theMyerialdied, and my mother inherited the queen’s gift.” He stared out at the horizon, not seeing his uncle’s approaching ship, but the memory of his mother’s pale, thin face the day before Nyamialine’s death. “Sometimes, I used to think it was only the queen’s gift and the duty that came with it—not the love of me or my uncle—that kept her with us.”
A warm, slender hand touched his arm. A gentle touch of comfort and sympathy. With it came another astonishing wave of power, sparkling with compassion and strength.
He laid a hand over hers and smiled. “I came here seeking a wife not only for my own joy but also to bring her a daughter to love, and the promise of a grandchild to look forward to. Joy enough to keep her with me for a while longer.” His smile tilted towards self-deprecating as he admitted, “A man grown I may be, but I am not ready to lose my mother.”
“Of course you aren’t.” And there was a note in her voice so sweet, so full of kindness and understanding, that he wanted to snatch her up in his arms and never let her go.
Instead he lifted a hand to cup her face and ran his thumb along the crest of her cheekbone, tracing the path where the mate to hisulumi-liawould, Numahao willing, soon reside. “You,moa kiri,truly are amyerial myerinas,” he told her huskily.
She didn’t pull away, merely stood, looking up at him. “What does that mean?”
“A treasure of all treasures. A pearl of all pearls. The queen of all queens. It means you are a woman without equal.”
“Ah.” Her cheeks turned a dusky pink beneath their Summerlander brown. “I wouldn’t go as far as all that.”
“I would.”
She stared up at him, rosy-cheeked, plump lips parted, her eyes a wide and endless blue, and it was all he could do not to kiss her. Then she blushed a deeper shade of pink and pulled away with a small, self-conscious laugh.
“Well, um... shall we go greet your uncle?”
He grinned. He liked that she’d said “we,” making the two of them a couple. “If you like. Are you up for an adventure?”
She hesitated. “What sort of adventure?”
His grin grew wider. Holding her hand, he ran towards the edge of the terraced garden. As they reached the edge of the terrace, he wrapped a powerful arm around her waist and cried “Hang on,moa leia!”
Summer screamed as Dilys wrapped an arm around her waist and leapt off the garden terrace into the dark waters of the Llaskroner Fjord. She kept screaming as he propelled them rapidly through the water towards his uncle’s approaching ship. She was still screaming as he shot them both upwards on a wide spout of water and stopped only when he dropped them lightly onto the polished wooden deck of his uncle’s ship.
She should have been drowned or at least soaking wet from head to toe, but he’d somehow made the water of the fjord flow around her, keeping her surrounded by a cone of breathable air as he swum them towards the boat. And though the spout of water that had delivered them onto the ship’s deck had soaked her slippers and the skirts of her gown, he’d evaporated the moisture with a wave of his hand.
She was still gripping the arm he’d clapped around her waist; her fingers dug into his muscular forearm in a death grip. With effort, she pried each one free and turned to glare up into his laughing, golden-eyed gaze.
“A little warning would have been nice.”
He only laughed. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She grimaced. “Show-off,” she muttered, and she stepped away to give her skirts a firm shake. Only then did she realize they were surrounded by unfamiliar Calbernan warriors, every one of them clad in gleaming musculatas and dark green loincloths, every one of them holding a polished, wickedly sharp trident and a long, coffin-shaped shield.
Standing beside the top deck railing was an older Calbernan male. He was also clad in a loincloth, but his musculata was worked in gold with raised designs of sea serpents and foaming waves covering the chest. And where each of the other warriors wore a dark green cloak clasped about their shoulders, the older man wore a loose-fitting, wide-sleeved robe of fine fabric that hung down to mid-calf. He was watching her with narrowed golden eyes and an inscrutable expression.
“MyerialannaGabriella Coruscate,” said Dilys, “it is my honor to introduce you to His Excellency, Calivan Merimydion, Lord Chancellor of Calberna.”
She blushed to the roots of her hair. “Your Excellency.”
“Your Royal Highness,” the Lord Chancellor replied, offering a polite bow. “Forgive me. I would offer you refreshments or a comfortable place to sit, but I was not expecting visitors until some time after we made dock.” He flicked what looked like a reproving glance in Dilys’s direction. Her interpretation of the look was confirmed a moment later when he added, “My nephew can be impetuous at times.”
If Dilys took offense he did not show it. Instead he said, “I was surprised to see your ship, Uncle. You sent no word of your impending arrival.Moa nimais well?”
Calivan Merimydion switched to Sea Tongue and said, “She is much improved. I would not have left her otherwise. But you should not speak of such things beforeoulani.”
“I have no secrets from myliana,” Dilys replied in the same tongue.
Calivan’s whole body tensed. “Yourliana?” He speared Summer with a narrow-eyed gaze. “She has already bound you to her?”
