Rhael
She was already sitting at our table, that was the first mistake. Not hers, but mine.
I knew the moment I crossed the tavern threshold that the air was wrong. Salt lingered beneath the smell of stale ale and sweat, it filled my nose as I kept my head low beneath my hood.
The slums were as they always were, dirty, cramped and unkept, but I had expected that. It was why I had avoided them every chance I could. But this was a necessity.
Maeve Kiehl wore a black dress cut in severe, elegant lines, fabric drinking in the light and refusing to give it back. A cloak pooled around her shoulders, equally dark, equally deliberate.
Her pale blonde hair was braided down one shoulder, almost human in restraint. However, the green of her eyes screamed creature, deep that seemed to catch the light every time she tilted her head.
The reason for her appearance was obvious, she looked Elven, exactly the kind of womanshe would have assumed I would desire. To draw me in and make me slip.
However, all it did was ignite an anger inside of me. One I was not sure I was ready to deal with, so I swallowed it like fire sitting lodged in my throat.
“I had wondered when you would reveal yourself, King Sorenthis,” she mused, her mouth curved faintly. Her voice was smooth as it threaded through the tavern’s murmur without rising above it.
The sound of it slid across my senses like a blade across silk. The power behind her words caused Elara to tense behind me.
“Impatient as always, Your Highness,” I responded, keeping my voice level as I tugged on the rope once, a silent command to Elara to keep her emotions under control. I had purposely tied the ropes loose, the knots looked intricate, but that was for display.
“How wonderful it is to meet your pet,” Maeve smiled, her hand gesturing to Elara, her eyes watching every move. It made my skin crawl, but I did not falter, could not falter, not yet. Not now when I was so close.
The tavern continued to move around us, though not naturally. Conversations halted as if people were trying to listen as we spoke, tankards hit the wooden tables too hard, several patrons watching whilst pretending not to. Humans were always so predictable.
“You brought her so openly, perhaps this appearance was not the correct one to choose,” shesmirked, resting her hands on the table. Her fingers were slender, human in appearance, but I knew what was rumoured to lay beneath the glamour. Webbed skin, talons capable of ripping flesh from bone. The Siren Queen was old, older than any of those of us who ruled on land, save for the vampires.
“I asked for a meeting, you agreed.” I replied, keeping my tone flat, as if she was boring me with her comments. Although, she was right. I knew she had chosen her current glamour based on what she believed I desired. But desires changed, the elven appearance no longer pulled me in the way it once had.
“I do worry that such a pretty thing would be a distraction for you Rhael. How can you focus when such a delectable thing remains unclaimed?” Maeve purred, her voice carrying through the very heart of the tavern, her eyes fixated on Elara. The one place I would not allow myself to look.
The Siren Queen was right, she was my distraction, everything about the small human sat at my side drew me in, changed me. Even when I had tried to avoid her entirely. Not that I would ever give that information to a woman whose attitude changed with the tides.
“She is where she needs to be, I thought a pretty face would ease your willingness to negotiate.” I replied, my lips curling into a snarl. Feeling the shadows in the room draw closer, my wings itching to be unfurled from my back. I keptthem closed, for now.
“You think a pretty face would convince me to spill more of my people's blood for your cause?” She laughed, tilting her head back causing a few strands of the braid to fall loose.
“She is to show you I am willing to cooperate,” I mused, letting myself ease back into a position of calm I did not feel.
“And tell me myDearest King, what would you offer me in return for my help?” She asked, her hands now knotting on the table, slender fingers intertwining.
“Access to more of the oceans, perhaps closer to land so you did not have to choose the human slums as your preferred meeting place.” I offered, watching as water gathered along the ring of the table. The wood darkened beneath her resting hands.
The Siren Queen did nothing by accident, she had chosen the tavern for a reason, and not just because it was the closest land to her dwelling. The slums rotted near the edges of forgotten waterways, giving her power from old waters that still remembered the sea.
“You offer me what should already be mine.” She smirked, the anger wound so tight in her voice it could have coiled like a snake. I leant forward, anger was something, an emotion that I could use.
“Something which you do not already own,” I smiled, feeling some sense of ease. Extracting any emotion from her meant I was winning in this game. At least for now.
“So, you bring such a breakable little object for me to refuse, for what? Your enjoyment? Shall I remind you of how powerful I truly am King of the Fae?” she questioned, her tone rising without shouting.
It was moments before I felt the room tilt. The lantern nearest to us flickered blue, the smell of salt thickened within the air. I felt the pull, but it was not aimed at me. Instead, she aimed it at the mortals. At Elara.
I felt her spine straighten beside me as she tried to resist. Maeve's power was connected to water, but that didn't mean it was limited. Even blood could be bent to her will.
I did not move or try to intervene, no matter how much it pained me to feel Elara struggle, to hear her breath become shorter as she tried to resist the urge to cry out in pain.
“You hold well,” she smiled at Elara, the smile sick and twisted as I watched still in silence.
