“What?” Odi sounds shocked as she swims towards me.
I run a hand through the blue tendrils floating around my face, preparing myself for something I hadn’t done in a very long time. “It’s a gift that’s never truly given away.” I look at the dragon. “Until now. Whichever one I choose will be taken from memory.”
Odi wraps a hand around my arm and squeezes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I glance down, offering her a smile. Her brow pinches with worry, so for once I let myself reach out and smooth it. She leans her cheek into my hand, and just like that. I’m at peace.
“We’ve lost so much for this map already. What’s a little more?” I say softly.
Odi briefly flinches at my words, like giving more is the last thing she wants to do. Then she offers me a weak smile. “Then, I guess you’d better sing.”
The dragon stills, her golden eyes fixed on me, waiting. “Choose wisely, Prince. Those who left me with this task promised much.”
I ease Odi’s arm off mine and push forwards until I’m a few paces from glinting dragon’s teeth. The weight of her power rolls over me like a wave crashing on the shoreline. Instinctively, I know this creature won’taccept anything but what I treasure most. My chest tightens with grief even as I drag in sea water, filtering it into oxygen.
And for the first time in years . . . I sing my mother’s song.
The heart is tender,
it whispers, it pleads.
Hear the call of the ocean,
surrender to her seas.
Child, guard your soul gently,
let it drift where it leads.
A journey will find you,
if you let your heart free.
Each note floats on the current. Vibrating through the water. It carries into the dragon, pulled from me piece by piece until I feel a small hollow of emptiness of where it used to live.
As the last note brushes my lips, the sense of loss strikes me hard, and final, leaving an ache in my chest. The dragon’s eyes narrow. Then she dips her head, almost a bow. She reaches towards me with a broad, scaled arm. Her fist unfurls one claw at a time until on the flat of her palm is the third key.“Thank you for your gift, siren prince. I shall treasure it as much as you did.”
Gently I retrieve it, careful not to linger too long. And the moment I have the cool metal in my hand, she pulls back, curling into the coral mound once again like she never even existed.
Odi appears by my side. Her eyes are half-glazed, but I was careful to ensure the song never touched her. “Boy, do we have a story to tell Bear,” she murmurs. The words are light, but her gaze lingers on me, searching. I flick mine down to her lips as I offer her a soft grin, shoving down yet another grief that will make its home in me. “Last one back to the ship is a rotten sea slug.”
THERE’S ONLY ONE BED
28
ODELIA
It takesus a week to limp to the nearest harbor.
Rune and I help tend to the wounded, passing each other like specters. Whatever hope we’d gotten from finding the last key had faded the moment we agreed not to make a big announcement to the crew—not untilThe Gilded Hartwas in better shape, and our prospects were brighter.
During the first few evenings, his eyes catch on the items I’ve stored on his nightstand, on the way I reorder them when a rogue wave knocks them about, but he doesn’t ask, and we slowly fall into a quiet routine. It would be more practical to tuck them away, but hiding them in the drawer feels almost like a betrayal, and seeing them reminds me of my goal.
I still hear his voice in my sleep. His song. The words stay distant, never fully formed, but the pull of his siren’s magic is undeniable. I reach for him before awareness comes to me, only finding empty space. Sometimes, when I wake, his eyes are already locked to mine from across the room, and I wonder if I say his name.
Neither of us brings it up in the daylight.
Whiterock Harbor creeps closer over the day, blotting out the horizon. Flocks of seabirds screech overhead, sending anticipation coursing through my veins. The sound is more welcoming than the screech of the ship’s bird, who, again and again, has ruined the silence of mourning. Hopefully it gets off and stays off.
