She’d be cross with me if I called her a “perky little minnow” to her face. She’d bite her plump bottom lip, knit her pale eyebrows into a frown, and probably demand again that I callher Ms. Blackwell or some other such nonsense. I chuckled at that, mirth spreading through my chest like a balm.
I’d felt so many emotions today because of her. Glee spread through me in anticipation of tomorrow. For the first time in many years, I was looking forward to waking up in the morning just because that meant spending more time in her company.
She made mefeelagain.
Maren was brave and had handled herself well around me when my own people had panicked and fled. Or maybe she simply didn’t fully realize the danger that fate had put her in. Either way, it proved entertaining and immensely enjoyable to have someone to talk to again, even if that someone clearly hated my guts and would likely escape if given a chance.
She had managed to keep it together. Even the unexpected visit by a monster from the Abyss didn’t turn her into a whimpering mess. It definitely rattled my nerves, however. I hadn’t seen a creature from the Abyss before, and the sight of that shapeless, repulsive monster made me wish it had stayed that way.
My people believed it was a bad omen when the Abyss came up to the surface. Only I refused to give any real meaning to such things. Omens, lore, and even prophecies often were nothing more than the result of people’s imagination.
The birth of a crown prince was always accompanied by a prophecy. I got one too. I had no say in it. No one had asked me if I wanted to know my future. The kingdom wished to find out what to expect from their future king, and the hags delivered.
Before I had even taken my first step or sprouted my first tooth, everyone in Olathana knew I’d be their ruin. It was said I’d bring devastation to the kingdom on the scale no enemy had ever managed to accomplish before.
I would break the Crown of Olathana. I’d raze the palace of my ancestors to the ground. I’d end my royal bloodline, and I’ddo a whole lot of other terrible things, many of which I’d already done. Unless...
“Unless through wisdom, strength, and pain,
He’ll prove his worth and rise to reign.”
And that was the problem with prophecies. They often made no sense. The palace still stood, even if not in its original state anymore. And worthy or not, I was the king already. There was nowhere to “rise” for me anymore.
It was a good thing the prophecy was nonsensical, because if it were true, the best course of action for me would be to jump into the Abyss and spare everyone more pain I was still prophesied to bring them. Confined to my palace, with not a single soul around for decades, I wondered just how the prophecy meant for me to accomplish any more devastation.
The unexpected visit from the darkness of the Abyss came to my mind again.
I had to let my uncle know about it. As the acting ruler of the kingdom, Prince Arnon had the counsel of the brightest minds of Olathana, including the wisest hags and the most experienced statesmen. They would figure out if there was any imminent danger to the kingdom and what to do about it.
With the decision made, I was ready to go to sleep. But that was when I heard the sob from behind the screen separating my human from me.
I didn’t immediately recognize the sound and just sat on my rock-hard bed, listening through the incessant whisper of the waves. Another sob came. Muffled by a hand or a pillow, it was quiet, but still an undeniable proof of my guest’s miserable state.
The nerve-racking events hadn’t left her unscathed after all, no matter how hard she had tried to act unaffected by them.
She was crying. Her attempts to stifle her sobs with a pillow made it even more painful to hear. She was hurting while desperately trying to hide her pain from me.
Her tears disturbed me. The unexpected but very welcome excitement about tomorrow fizzled out in my chest. It was hard to feel excited about a banter with a woman who was very obviously broken. Teasing her couldn’t be fun without her fighting me back. It’d be like kicking a puppy, not something even a rotten man like me would derive any pleasure from.
I didn’t remember how I got up from my bed but I found myself standing in the middle of the room, my gaze fixed on the wooden screen that hid the crying woman from me.
Throughout the day, I had wanted to do many things to Maren. I’d wished I could touch her, kiss her, fuck her. Now, the thing I wished the most was simply to be able to hold her.
At this very moment, I would give my kingdom along with the crown I broke for just the ability to give this crying woman a hug. But a hug from me, no matter how well-intentioned, would kill her.
I searched for any other way to comfort her. Throughout my life, I’d caused plenty of grief to others, but comfort was not something I’d had much experience with. I couldn’t think of the right words that would soothe her. I had no hope to offer her. I feared that even letting my presence be known would distress her further instead of calming her.
Unexpectedly, a hum tickled up my throat. It wasn’t even a sound yet, just a vibration that started deep in the area of my heart somewhere and spread. I still had no words to share, but a melody was already forming.
Song was a vital part of every siren’s life. My mother sang to me before I was even born. These walls used to be alive with music before I smothered it with silent glass. I’d killed both the songs and the singers, and the music had died inside me too.
I hadn’t felt the urge to sing for decades, just as I no longer felt the ocean. The urge came back now, the need to soothe, to sing...
With my lips still closed, I hummed a long-forgotten melody, and note by note, it came back to me. All of it. Then the words formed. I remembered the first lines of the lullaby my mother had sung to me so, so long ago:
“Don't be scared, my little one,
I'll keep you safe ’til the day I’m gone.”
