Page 24

Chapter Twenty-One

MER

Phia had all but disappeared from the keep.

Mer had questioned Sienna, but the young duchess had not seen her friend since Duke Keventin had beaten her. She’d even asked the duke outright where the girl was, and he’d told her she’d been dismissed for her incompetence and sent home to her family.

Mer didn’t believe him.

A Sirenidae wouldn’t have been able to return home to her people through the ocean. Mer was sure Keventin hadn’t sent her along with any money to make her way home.

Either Phia was in a watery grave, or she was being kept somewhere.

Mer guessed the latter.

A Sirenidae held value, and with the proclivities of the duke, she doubted he would let something he deemed valuable slip through his fingers.

That evening, she sat on a plush divan listening to a bard sing about love as Keventin had his pregnant wife rub his shoulders. Mer stared, feeling her hackles rise.

Sienna had dark bruises beneath her eyes as if she hadn’t slept all night and a beard burn along her neck and shoulder. The poor girl looked as if she were about to pass out on the spot.

“If you stare any harder, you’ll turn him to ash,” Gideon whispered in her ear.

Mer scoffed. “He’s lucky that I don’t lunge from this couch and rip his heart out.”

Gideon dramatically gasped, blue eyes flaring wide. “My queen, how could you say such things?”

She quirked a smile at the ambassador. She’d met many people since arriving in Methi, but the fair Gideon was one of her favorites. There was something so likeable about him.

“Hush, you two,” the king rumbled from her left, his face a mask of boredom. “Or you’ll offend our host.”

As if Raz really cared about that. Mer had been listening carefully over the last week, and he’d had no problem putting Keventin in his place. If anyone had offended the duke, it would have been the king.

The duke in question pulled his wife into his lap as the bard changed his song.

“I thought your culture didn’t accept public affection?” she hissed, wanting to tear the man’s hands off of the girl.

“This is not public, and Laos is more... relaxed,” Raziel answered, sipping his brew from the silver chalice. “In fact...”

She squeaked when he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her against his side.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Cuddling my wife as everyone expects me to,” Raziel grouched softly.

Mer shifted, aware of each place they touched. Her skin warmed and hummed, and the desire to lean into him was almost overwhelming.

Until she glanced back at the duke.

He caught her eye and winked while laying kisses on Sienna’s shoulder.

“Deep breath,” Raziel murmured. “Ignore them.”

“Is that what you do?” she whispered back. “Ignore the child brides around you?”

The king stiffened. “No, but I can’t control everything, even though I wish to.”

“You are the king,” she whispered harshly. “It is your duty to protect your people, especially those who cannot protect themselves.”

“I agree, but it takes time.”

Time girls like Sienna didn’t have.

Mer swallowed hard and focused on the bard’s song, knowing she would do something drastic if she watched the duke’s display any longer.

The young man sat on a stool, his voice ringing out clear and pure:

A merry dance above the waves

Frolicked the ladies of the sun.

Ceto plotted from his dark palace,

Wishing for the touch of fair skin.

Mer straightened. Ceto.

He tricked and flattered,

Stealing her into his den.

She cursed her fate

And slowly wasted away.

Desperate to save his love,

Ceto returned her to the surface.

A promise that he would return

When the tide rose,

So did the dark king only to find his love,

Hanging from the gallows.

Tarnished she was by sea,

Broken and battered by her people’s unholy glee.

He raged and swore his revenge.

So sweet maiden, listen to his tale

And never dance by the sea.

When Gideon began to clap, Mer startled out of her reverie, the words of the song ringing in her ears.

A soothing movement along her hip registered as her mind tried to pick apart the song.

She glanced at the king, but he was looking at Keventin.

It seemed he didn’t even know he was running his thumb along her hip.

She should have been repulsed.

But it felt nice . . .

Ignore him. Focus on Ceto.

It was a unique name. It was a coincidence, wasn’t it?

She wanted to believe that it could be something more. It could be the clue she’d been looking for. Songs and poems usually were rooted in truth.

Mer needed to speak with the bard.

“Wonderful!” Mer clapped and rose to her feet, the king’s arm dropping. Raziel watched her, his brows rising in what seemed like surprise.

The bard blushed and bowed deeply to her. “Thank you, my queen.”

“Where did you learn such an enchanting song?” Mer sauntered toward him, lowering her lashes. “It reminds me of home.”

The bard’s smile grew at her attention. “It’s a fishman’s song that originated in the villages along the coast. I stayed with a family there once, and they taught me. It’s a warning to those about cavorting with the sea. It can be enchanting but cost you your life.”

“Very true,” she murmured. “And Ceto is meant to be the sea? It’s a unique name, no?”

The bard set his lute on the floor and nodded. “In our kingdom, Ceto is an old myth. A dark god of the sea. Fishermen bless or curse him according to their luck. Many believe he pulls ships down into the North Sea to appease the bloodthirstiness of his people.”

“His people? Do you mean Sirenidae?”

The bard shook his head, eyes widened. “No, my queen. Demons.”

Mer stared at the ceiling of her dark room, the moon hidden for the night.

She couldn’t take her mind off the song.

It was as if it spoke to her. Like the meaning was just out of her grasp.

One thing she did know was that she needed to travel to the fishman’s coast. Lilja had traveled the world, collecting songs and stories like trophies. She shared them with Mer. Not once had she ever mentioned this story or a character with the name Ceto.

If this story originated in the fishing villages, there was a high chance the Ceto was associated with the Pernicious had passed through that area or even been raised there.

She kicked off the blankets and rolled onto her stomach, hugging a feather pillow to her chest. Sleeping in a bed on land was an adjustment. Between their seaweed cocoons and floating moss beds, it was as if the ocean had coddled her almost every night of her life.

Here, her body cramped and sagged into the bed uncomfortably after a few hours, and she was constantly too hot or too cold.

Her eyelids finally drooped, and sleep began to claim her.

The bed groaned, and she shifted a second before her scales stood on end.

Mer’s eyes snapped open as her face was shoved forcibly into the pillow and mattress. She tried to scream but only ended up sucking fabric into her mouth as a heavy weight settled over her bare legs. A large hand squeezed the back of her neck, pinning her in place, unable to breathe.

She bucked her hips and swiped at her attacker, not able to reach them. Mer changed tactics and pinched the hard thigh straddling her with all her might. A man hissed above her.

“Get her hands, you fool,” Keventin whispered harshly.

Mer tried to push herself upward, only to have her arms yanked roughly behind her back and tied. Dizziness washed over her as she tried to inhale, panic rising higher and higher.

“Leave us,” Keventin commanded. He leaned down. “Now I have you where you belong, you sanctimonious wench. Hold still as I show my queen a proper welcome,” he sneered softly in her ear like a lover.

Her eyes widened as a calloused hand caught the hem of her nightgown and yanked it over her hips, cold air washing over her skin.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Mer struggled against his strength and cried out into the mattress, wildly flailing.

“Won’t it be fun to see if the next heir looks like me or Raziel?” he murmured. “You’ve been asking for this since the moment you stepped into my home. Always challenging me. Always glaring at me.”

She registered a belt being undone and an eerie sort of calm settled over her.

This is happening. Fight. Remember your training.

“You want this just as much as I do. Stop playing hard to get.”

Mer pushed past the terror and dizziness and disgust, wiggling a little to get a sense of his position.

One right hand on the back of her neck, left hand fumbling with his pants.

A body off balance.

She lifted her left thigh and hooked it over his left one.

A soft chuckle rumbled out of Keventin. “I knew you wanted me, but a little punishment first for trying to steal my wife away, huh?” He groaned softly, tracing his fingers over the scales on her left thigh. “You’re just like the other one. So soft, pliant. Exactly how you should be.”

That was it.

Mer threw herself to the right with all her strength, reversing their positions. She spun onto her knees.

Make every blow count.

She knelt and slammed her knee between his legs. Keventin doubled forward, and she headbutted him, knocking him back into the bed. Mer breathed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears.

A knock sounded at her door. “My lady?” Mazie called, her voice sleepy.

Mer sucked in a full breath ready to scream when Duke Keventin rasped.

“I’ll kill her if you call for help.”

She paused, staring down at the monster in her bed cupping himself, face red. “Who?”

“You know who,” he wheezed. “I didn’t miss the way you looked at that half breed. Her death will be on your hands if you ever speak of this. You will kill Phia.”

“Don’t you dare say her name.” She bared her teeth at him. “If I scream, you will be stripped of your title and hung. Phia and Sienna will be rid of you.”

“My lady?” Mazie’s voice grew louder.

Mer grabbed Keventin by the throat. “Tell me where Phia is.”

“She’s somewhere you’ll never find her.” He smiled at her through his pain. “Do you really think her torment will be over if I die? She’ll cry for death and beg for the pain to stop, but it will never end.”

It wasn’t a choice.

“I’m fine,” she choked out to Mazie. “Just nightmares.”

“I can fetch some warm milk,” the warrior offered through the door.

“I am okay. Go back to bed.” She trembled.

“Okay. Good night, my queen.”

“Good night,” Mer replied, her voice raspy. All she had to do was get this man out of her room and then get to the king. They would find Phia and destroy Keventin.

The duke whispered, “I know what you’re thinking.

That perhaps you can get the king to turn against me, but it won’t happen.

I’ve heard the stories about you, my queen.

The woman who hates the king so much, she tried to kill him on first acquaintance.

The woman who wears revealing clothing and flirts with the entire court.

The shameless slut who got jealous when a duke showed his wife affection. ”

She stared down at the snake who’d slithered his way into her bed, her shaking increasing with each insidious lie. “You know nothing.”

“You might hold a title, but you are nothing. No one would believe a murderous foreigner over a respected member of the gentry.”

She could see how this fight would play out. The king held no love for her, and he needed Keventin. Her gaze darted over his face as the horrid truth dawned. There was nothing she could do.

“Now, get off me.”

Every part of her wanted to kill him.

Think of Phia.

Mer leaned into his face, her wrists chafing from the rough rope. “Mark my words, I’ll kill you one day.”

He grinned, his teeth bloody. “Not before I have you.”

Over my dead body.

Bile burned the back of her throat and before she could think it through, she whispered, “Don’t scream, your grace, or your ruse will be over.”

“What . . . ”

She released his throat and slashed him across the face, her nails digging in deep.

He clamped his lips together, groaning.

Mer jumped to her feet and kicked him in the crotch and then the ribs for good measure before scurrying from the bed. “Get out.”

Duke Keventin hauled himself out of her bed, limping to an open panel in her wall.

A secret entrance.

He tipped his head to her, a vile grin on his face that made her skin crawl. “See you in the morning for breakfast,” he crooned.

She stared as he disappeared from sight. The door shut without a sound.

Mer wrenched her arms, clawing her way out of the bonds around her wrists. She scrambled forward and wedged a chair against the panel before backing away.

Blood dripped down her right hand.

There was part of him still on her.

With trembling hands, she poured water into the bowl and scrubbed her hands furiously until they burned. But it wasn’t enough. She still felt him everywhere. Mer tossed the water into the cold fireplace and poured more water into the basin before scrubbing her whole body.

It wasn’t enough.

The keep creaked, and she jumped, her heart pounding.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she abandoned the rag and water. Mer moved as far as she could from the secret door, her back meeting the door between her own suite and the king’s. Mer snatched a heavy candlestick from the mantle above the fireplace and slid to the floor.

Her wet fingers pressed into the cold metal, and she retched, bile filling her mouth.

You did well. You fought.

It almost hadn’t been enough.

Tears tracked down her cheeks one after another as she cried silently, feeling dirty and scared.

You’re just as soft as the other one.

Mer cried harder, wishing that Phia was dead so that she wouldn’t experience whatever horrors the duke had planned for her.