Page 12

Chapter twelve

“ B ad luck! Bad luck!” The bird wouldn’t quit his squawking, though mercifully it avoided the magic words that would send Raggon rushing back to check on his prisoner.

Above Thessa, the crystal chandelier swayed and tinkled with the ship’s motion, its sinister play of glowing lights creating grotesque shadows that made the cracked painting of cruel pirate and captured mermaid come alive in disturbing display. Thessa’s stomach churned—was she staring at her own fate captured in oils and gilt?

Who was she fooling? She was already living her worst nightmares! That man thought she’d fetch Undine’s Blade for him? Not a chance. Her father needed it. Raggon’s body might not be warped like his soul, but without a doubt he was part of Circe’s bestial army.

Her wrists and hands hurt from trying to free herself—her new legs hurt. Everything hurt! Thessa shifted, hearing the bell ring with her movement. Raggon’s jacket made her feel like his arms were still around her. The musk of sandalwood and—lemon, was it? His scent overwhelmed her until she could think of nothing, but the man who’d left her here.

At least she was warm! The gentleness of his fingers still put an unwanted blush on her cheeks. She couldn’t reconcile the man who’d tenderly tucked the blankets around her shoulders with the one who’d trussed her up like yesterday’s catch ready for market. What sort of brute needed this much gold, this much crimson, this much… everything?

The drapery and rugs were wine-dark like old blood, and even the ceiling beams were wrapped in gold rope that caught the light like scales reminding her of home. She quickly suppressed a pang of homesickness, trying not to think of where she presently waited for Raggon’s return. An ornate bed with its drapes and grotesque gargoyles?

What kind of man thought this was a perfect place to drop his tired body for the night? One who was perfectly fine with teasing her when she couldn’t get the gag off her mouth! He’d named her Clam! Clam! The name of her pet sea turtle at home!

Okay… she might have a whisper of an idea of who she’d like to take down with Undine’s Blade.

The eels carved into the thick bed posts caught her with their ruby eyes. She glared back, refusing to be intimidated. Everything screamed of a man obsessed with power, wealth and—and such utter tackiness, from the flamboyant threading that traced sinuous patterns through the coverlets to the beaded cushions that sparkled like dragon’s treasure.

Get me out of here now!

Rocking to the side, she landed face first into a soft pillow. The bell rang out in response.

Immediately the bird changed his tune. “Polly wants a cracker! Polly wants a cracker!”

She cringed, expecting Raggon to barge through the door with a shout.

After a few minutes of horrible waiting, her eyes fluttered open as she stared through her shadowy tasteless cage. Not a peep came from outside.

Had that dirty pirate been lying about keeping an eye on her? Or did he simply forget about her? He’d left her for long enough—with no thought of feeding her. He must think mermaids lived on air. And still, none of that mattered if it meant she could make as much noise as possible to get out of here.

The shine of unused nautical instruments and gilt-framed maps suggested a captain who cared more for the appearance of seafaring knowledge than its substance. But she couldn’t afford to hope that Raggon was merely a fool playing at power. Not when she was his captive.

She began working her wrists from their binding, each movement making the bell cry out its betrayal.

“Polly wants a cracker! Polly wants a cracker!”

The noise wasn’t bringing anyone. Raggon was deaf as an oyster. Her breathing turned ragged against the dirty rag holding back her grunts as she twisted and squirmed. These new lungs were getting more than their share of exercise! And then one last tug—her wrist slipped free.

Losing no time, she ripped off the gag and let out a cry of relief, though it immediately turned to pain as she rubbed at the raw skin of her wrist.

“Polly wants a cracker!” The bird’s incessant squawking over her escape grew louder.

“Shh!” Sterling, was it? “Sterling, clam it!” The creature hopped about in agitation. What Thessa would do for her siren voice about now. She’d get that bird beak pinched shut in an instant.

“Beware! Beware! Polly wants a cracker!”

Thessa propelled herself off the bed to silence him the hard way—well, attempted it anyway. The instant her foot hit the ground, her ankle bent awkwardly beneath her, and she fell, landing against the thick crimson rug. Her chin caught the edge of the mahogany desk, sending empty glass bottles and an oil cloth package flying with a crash.

She muffled her yelp.

The door flew open. No, no, she needed more time! Raggon’s large frame filled the doorway, and for an instant she wondered if he even saw her as he stumbled into the room, the bottle in his hand sloshing amber liquid. His heavy brows drew together as his unfocused gaze swept from the empty bed to the shadows until finally landing on her near the mess at the desk.

A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. “Hey, Clam.”

He was acting strange—much like the sailors she’d spied tripping over their feet and shouting into the wind. The bottle in his hand was the source of it. These spirits made humans act strangely. Before she could think how to use that to her advantage, his eyes sharpened on her mouth—her ungagged mouth.

The change was instant. Despite his unsteady feet, he disappeared in a blink. The next moment, he materialized from a spray of salty mist, his warm hand clamping over her mouth. The sudden proximity sent her heart racing.

She twisted away with a scream. “Don’t touch me!”

Yelling, he clawed at his ears while she paddled away from him, unable to get on her feet, unable to escape! And he was laboring under the same difficulty, only she realized he was protecting his ears from her.

She pressed her advantage. “I have power in my voice!” she cried out in warning.

Grunting out, with one hand still over his ear, he caught at her ankle with the other and tugged her closer. His touch was insistent, prevailing, sending unwanted shivers over her flesh.

She kicked. “I’ll use my siren powers against you! Don’t think I won’t!”

His blue eyes turned amused, the panic draining from him as he watched her closely. The fog of whatever had affected him seemed to lift slightly, replaced by sharp realization. “You scream like a girl.”

She glared.

He’d guessed the horrible truth, and now his fingers slid down her ankle to her bare feet, leaving trails of heat in their wake; he looked deep in thought, though none of the careful restraint he’d shown a few hours earlier remained. “That’s how you got your legs. You made a deal with the Sea Witch for the power in your—your voice? Why?”

Now that she no longer had that horrible rag over mouth, she could finally sass back. “Well, of course, it was love at first sight. I was helpless against your charm and hoped I’d find myself a pirate to wed.”

“Prince…” he corrected, voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “easy mistake, of course.”

She froze. A prince had been Undine’s undoing.

“So, what’s next?” he asked, his eyes were growing increasingly alert. “You marry me and get your siren voice back?” He was aware of the legends, was he? “Or is the curse broken with a kiss?” Oh no, he was reeling her in closer. Thessa couldn’t catch her breath in these strange new lungs, especially under the intensity of his gaze, the way he watched her reminded her of the last time he’d kissed her. She flinched at the unwanted flutter through her stomach.

His jaw tightened, and he snapped back, giving her poor lungs a break. “I’m not going to hurt you, Clam,” his voice had a protective edge.

“Thessa. My name’s Thessa.”

His eyes flicked to hers, and he leaned back, pressing his big palms against the rug. “Okay… Thessa. Cut line, why are you here?”

She tried to find a plausible excuse and just shrugged. “You were the nearest ship out.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

Why should she care? He was Circe’s minion. Her lips firmed. He might as well gag her again for how much she’d talk.

“Your father’s dying,” he said.

She winced. How did he know about that? But she wouldn’t give anything else away. He’d carry all information back to Circe.

“It makes sense—” he said. “The great ruler of the waters wouldn’t just let someone like me be alone with his daughter.”

But she was human now, sullied from her association with the Sea Witch. She was no longer worthy of being called Poseidon’s daughter. She kept her mouth shut.

“Let’s make a pact,” he said.

“I don’t trust you.”

“And I don’t trust you, or anyone, for that matter… but that didn’t stop either of us from making deals earlier with horrible witches for legs… and for—for other things.” He took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. “I want Undine’s Blade to cut a magical enchantment from my brother’s neck. And you’re the only one I know who can touch it. You get the weapon for me, and we can part ways. That’s all I want.”

He’d pass up taking home a treasure of such unbelievable power? Not likely. He was a dirty pirate—no, a dirty prince.

“So, let’s make a pact of our own,” he said. “What do I have that you want? I’ll give you an offer you can’t refuse.”

She took a deep breath and decided to play his game. “Safe passage out of here.” And the Undine Blade so she could drive it into the heart of her people’s enemy, but that sort of double-crossing was for later.

“That’s it? A ride?” Skepticism glittered in his eyes.

She’d have to do better than that to put him at ease. “You say you’re a prince?”

He nodded.

“I’ll take a plot of land in your kingdom.”

“You? Want land?” He laughed, the sound rich and warm despite his obvious cynicism. “We’ll see what you really want when we find that blade.”