Page 47 of When the Wicked Sing (The Leruna Sea #1)

“It’s you,” Mariana whispered.

King Stavros stood tall, his rich brown skin contrasted by an open white fur-lined surcoat, revealing a cobalt tunic embellished with gold thread. His long black hair stopped at his broad shoulders, where it was brushed back beneath a gold crown that glinted under the chandeliers.

He was every bit as intimidating as Mariana could’ve imagined. And yet, as she continued to stare at him with wide eyes, she noticed he was doing the same. He hadn’t expected to find her here.

“I—uh—” She stumbled over her words until she cleared her throat. “How did you do that? I didn’t hear you come in at all.”

The question seemed to pull Stavros from his confused stupor, and he regarded her carefully. “I can manipulate the air around me, making myself as silent as a mouse when I want to go somewhere in peace without watchful eyes,” he stated softly, his voice deep and soothing.

His words rippled through her as she considered what Astra had said in her letter .

Your father is from House Sky, and you are a daughter of the sea.

Mariana took a steady breath, realizing she was standing in front of her father and that there was the possibility that she had more magic than she even knew about.

She thought of the incident with the papers floating to the floor, the curtains billowing from an imaginary wind after her meltdown. Had she done that?

The questions began to build in her mind, swirling and threatening to spill over.

“Are you alright?” Stavros asked, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to steady her. She hadn’t noticed the ground tilting toward her.

Mariana shook her head to clear her troubled mind, then glanced at the hand on her arm, following it up to the eyes she’d known her whole life, though they belonged to someone else.

“You look unwell, child. Let’s sit.” The king guided her toward the seating area at the back of the library. Mariana sat on an ivory silk sofa while he took the chair beside it, staring at his hands. She wondered what he saw.

He glanced up. “You are Mariana?” he asked with a hint of wonder.

Nodding, she averted her gaze, trying and failing to come up with the right thing to say. In the awkward silence, she said, “You look different than you did in the painting.”

King Stavros’s brows lowered in confusion, and she realized he had no idea what she was referring to.

“The painting of you and my mother in the foyer,” she supplied .

The king’s lips twitched. “How did I look?”

“Happy,” she said before she could stop herself. But it was true. The king—though he appeared just as young as he was when the painting must’ve first been commissioned—had grief forever lining his eyes. The haunting pain in his face was unmistakable.

Astra was right. He was heartbroken. “And your hair is much longer,” she blurted, her cheeks growing warm.

Stavros smiled tightly before nodding. “You’re right, I was happy back then. And I am due for a haircut.” He chuckled.

Mariana held back a smile as it dawned on her that “back then” was when he had ordered the death of her people. She shouldn’t be smiling or laughing with him. He deserved none of it.

She sat up straight and glared at him. “Yes, ‘back then’ was a very different time, wasn’t it?”

King Stavros only stared at her, and when the sadness in his eyes became too much to bear, she stood up and crossed her arms.

“Do you know how much pain you’ve caused my family? How many of my sisters you slaughtered during the Banishment?” Her voice wavered at the end, and she gritted her teeth.

Stavros opened and closed his mouth, as if struggling to find words. Then he stood and walked over to a glass display case housing several siren artifacts and gazed at them in silence.

Mariana was tempted to ask what he was staring at when he finally spoke, his words laced with pain. “The day you lost Sirenia was the day I lost my son. Back then, I believed it to be just. But that is no excuse. I regret what I did, Mariana, and I am sorry.”

Her eyes went wide as he spoke her name like a prayer.

“Well, apologies don’t mean anything when my people are still dying.

Every day, more of us fall victim to the Scourge just to keep our population steady.

The cruelty you’ve inflicted upon us for a century is cause for more than just an apology .

” She spat the last word like it was acid on her tongue.

“You’re right,” he whispered and turned to face her. “That’s why I want to help you and Astra restore Sirenia.”

Mariana stared at him in shock. She’d read what her sister said about the king wanting to help them, but she never imagined she would hear it from him.

“How?” she asked harshly, attempting to keep hope from her voice. “By us handing over the amulet? Bringing your son back and dooming us all once again?”

Stavros shook his head. “Helios would not bring war upon you, I assure you.”

“What makes you so certain?”

The king paused, staring at her with such intensity, she had to fight to keep from looking away.

“Astra told me she would be writing you a letter. Was that what I saw you burn in the fire?”

Mariana gave a curt nod.

“What did she say?”

“She said that I should trust you. That you think Cybele isn’t to blame for Helios’s murder, that it was the Siren Witch.”

“And do you believe her? ”

“I believe that Cybele took the blame for killing Helios. Trusting you? Not so much.”

His lips twitched. He began walking slowly through the library, his black boots echoing through the vast room. Mariana followed on hesitant feet.

“Her name at the time was Zafiria, and I believe my son was secretly courting her. Their relationship was inappropriate, and I’m sure they both knew it. I believe they quarreled, and Zafiria killed Helios.”

“I would’ve suspected he could easily survive an attack by a siren scholar.”

“Helios could hold his own in a fight, but he loved fine liquor. She poisoned his cup. His heart gave out. And Cybele found him.” The king stopped in front of the draped windows, a crack of light shining on his face.

“My son was a great male, but he was vengeful. Had been since he was young. I can remember the time he discovered his favorite toy warhorse had gone missing, only to find it was another child that had taken it. The boy’s mother claimed it was by mistake.

Helios pretended it was fine, grateful to have the toy back.

“However, I knew my little rebel had something up his sleeve. And just a few days later, a different child was crying that all of his toys were broken. Come to find out, Helios discovered it was not the first child who had taken the warhorse but another, and he punished him the way he saw fit.”

Mariana didn’t know what to make of the story, though it reaffirmed that Helios was trouble.

Mariana had a difficult time believing the witch had poisoned Helios.

Why would she? Were they truly in a relationship?

Maybe the situation was flipped, and Helios was going to hurt her, so she defended herself.

Either way, Mariana didn’t believe for a moment that her mentor killed Helios intentionally, if at all.

“My point,” the king continued, “is that my son is brilliant. Was brilliant,” he corrected, then cleared his throat before turning around to face her. “He will know who truly killed him and seek vengeance on only the one responsible. As is right.”

Helios would go after the Siren Witch. A part of her heart lurched at the thought of anyone harming one of her own, especially someone she cared about.

“And what if I try to stop him?”

The king gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m assuming Astra’s letter also told you that I am your father.

” The expression on her face must have confirmed it.

“Then you should know I will never allow harm to come to you.” His brows scrunched, and he gave her a sad smile she hoped wasn’t supposed to be reassuring.

“Well, I should say, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“Did you—” Mariana hesitated and bit her lip before sighing, “Did you know about me?”

He shook his head and looked away. “No, though I wish I had.”

“Why? Would it have changed anything?”

Stavros stared at the floor for a moment. “I’d like to think so.” He continued to study the marble beneath their feet until he finally met her eyes. “I come here when I miss her.”

Mariana knew instantly who he meant by her .

“That’s why you haven’t torn this place apart. You still love her.”

The king glanced around the room and gave her a solemn nod. “This was my love letter to her. I envisioned our lives here. She and I. Our children. I’d like to walk, will you join me?”

He held out an elbow for her, and she hesitated before accepting the invitation. Giving her a small smile, the king walked her from the library into the main hall.

“See this long stretch of wall here? I planned on having paintings done of her daughters and displaying them.”

Mariana glanced at the wall, imagining for a moment Astra’s and Aurora’s portraits hanging there, then her own at the end. As she blinked back the vision, Stavros pulled his elbow from her hand.

“Pardon me, I just want to clean this up quickly.” The king bent down to gather all the loose parchment littering the floor from the wind that had manifested from nowhere during her strike of anger earlier.

“Why?” she asked, bewildered by his impulse to clean when no one was around.

Stavros paused, then neatly shuffled the pages he’d collected. “I ask myself that very question frequently. And do you know what I tell myself?”

Mariana shook her head.

He gave her a sad smile. “I’m still allowed to dream.”

After placing the stacked pages on the desk nearby, he lifted his elbow again. “Shall we?”

Mariana took his offering, and together, they walked up the steps to the second floor .

“These were bedchambers made for all of you,” he admitted softly, staring at each of the four doors.