“Like when the blade of Leslo’s knife touched you,” I continued, “the entire thing turned to glass, including the handle, even though the handle never came into contact with your skin. Shouldn’t just the metal of the blade be affected? But then when you walk outside, it’s only the sand directly under your feet that turns to glass, not the entire island.”
He chewed and swallowed his scallops, then took a sip of the golden wine through a glass straw.
“Well, you see, my dear, it’s not like I was handed a list of rules the moment the curse wrecked my life,” he finally replied. “Sometimes, the entire object turns to glass, no matter what part of it I touch. Like this table, for example. It has four legs and a tabletop. I touched the top only, but its legs turned with it.”
He splayed a hand on the glass surface of the dining table between us.
“But the table at least was made from the same material, the knife wasn’t,” I pointed out.
“Still it’s the same whole object. Table. Knife.” He shrugged.
“How about the sand and the ocean then?” I insisted.
“With the sand and the ocean, only the particles that touch me directly are affected. Which is a blessing, really. The last thing I need is to destroy my entire kingdom by turning the ocean to a giant slab of glass.” He took another sip of wine, muttering, “I’ve caused enough damage to it as is already.”
I thought about how careful he was when walking down to the water and stepping only on the narrow path of glass he’d already made.
Elina’s and Arnon’s words had painted a picture of Kye as an unruly boy and a reckless youth. He was a self-confessed killer. He’d admitted that he’d deliberately touched twenty-seven people, murdering them in retaliation for their lies. Yet I’d seen him exercise the utmost caution in avoiding touching a plant growing on the side of his path to the water.
Did Elina and Arnon not see that part of him? Or had a hundred years of despair, regret, and reflection brought some changes in him?
“I believe you wouldn’t hurt a fly if you could help it,” I said confidently.
“Not on purpose, no,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill it anyway if it touches me. I’ve ended plenty of innocent lives, Maren. And it’s all those needless deaths that haunt me the most.”
LYING IN BED THAT NIGHT, I heard Kye return to our bedroom after he’d made sure the guards had finally arrived atthe palace to stand on guard in the great hall. He wished me good night, then went to bed, but I couldn't sleep.
At night, fear always floated to the forefront of my mind. I tried not to listen to the waves too closely, afraid to hear the eerie voice again. But there was nothing I could do to calm the urgent whispers of my worries.
What if I never found my way home?
What if I did?
What if I never saw Liam and my parents ever again? Had the last time I saw them been the last time ever?
But what if I managed to run away from Kye, then I’d never seehimagain. I’d never know what happened to him, if he ever found happiness or at least some peace in his life. I’d never hear his voice again...
“Are you asleep?” I called out softly.
“Not yet,” he replied quickly. “That nap helped this afternoon, but now I can’t fall asleep again. What troubles you, my dear?”
So many things. But I didn’t want to recount them all to him, especially since I had a difficult time sorting through them myself.
“Sing for me. Please,” I asked simply.
“I thought you’d never ask.” I heard a smile in his voice before the first sounds of his melodious lullaby drifted through the room:
“Don't be scared, my little one,
I'll keep you safe ’til the day I’m gone.”
The lyrics that had brought me comfort several days ago only troubled me more now.
I’d learned that sirens lived for five or six hundred years. When Kye sang“’til the day I’m gone,”he promised to be in my life forever. But that wouldn’t happen if I left. He wouldn’t bekeeping me safe. He wouldn’t be singing for me. I’d be gone, and he’d be left here, alone again.
The song flowed effortlessly, merging with the night as one:
“Not the werewolf’s bite, not gorgonian’s stare,
