Page 62 of When the Wicked Sing (The Leruna Sea #1)

Dax watched Halia stare at the amulet, as if it were a fascinating trinket, from where he and Kosta were shackled to the railing.

After they had been transported off their small boat onto the massive ship, Halia didn’t trust them not to try to escape, despite Kosta assuring her he would never turn on the crown.

Dax had stayed silent. Halia never took her eyes off him, searching for the truth he hid well beneath his stoic gaze.

Even now, he held his tongue despite every instinct, every urge to ask what had happened to Mari. To ask if she was alive. Or if she was …

No , he couldn’t consider that a possibility.

“Can we please let them go now?” Ophelia asked anxiously.

Halia glanced up at her, then back at Dax and Kosta.

All of Halia’s once-immaculate makeup had been washed away.

Her lavish dress stuck to her like a second skin, thin gold thread unraveling the intricate design it once had.

Even her usually perfect hair was a mess of frizzy braids clinging to her neck.

None of the ten royal guards Halia had departed with had returned with her.

She stood tall, like a lone wolf, ready to bite, claw, and snarl at anyone who stepped too close to her prize.

Dax held Halia’s stare until she nodded to the guard standing beside them to unlock the shackles. As soon as they were free, Kosta swept Ophelia into a hug.

Halia’s amber eyes continued scrutinizing Dax, then she motioned for him to follow her below deck. Dax followed reluctantly but kept his head high while reminding himself to remain calm.

What Kosta had said to him back on their small boat stuck with him—that he was in love with Mari. Despite the ache in his chest shouting the truth, he had to keep up the facade that there was no love. Not a chance of it ever existing. For the sake of his people.

Halia had threatened his family in the past when Dax refused to do something she’d asked, such as the time she ordered him to slit a servant’s throat for stealing one of Halia’s heirloom necklaces.

He’d told her no, that it went far beyond their deal.

He was not an assassin; he was a warrior.

Halia’s response was simple: She wanted proof of his loyalty to her and handed him a dagger with a royal seal.

Then proceeded to tell him that if he didn’t follow through, then he was holding the very weapon that would kill Kenna.

Dax felt his hands begin to shake as he recalled the memory of standing over that poor female as she cowered before him, begging him not to hurt her.

When he brought the blade up and cut his forearm, allowing the blood to splatter and drip across the servant’s small room, she stared up at him in confusion .

“Leave. Disappear and never come back. Because if she discovers you’re still alive, then it’s both our heads,” Dax had ordered, and the young servant obeyed.

She gathered what little she owned and escaped that night.

He never knew what became of her, but when Halia heard about the blood all over the missing servant’s room, no body—or necklace—to be found, she questioned him.

All he told her was that investigations led to questions that shouldn’t be asked.

It was better if the court believed it to be a confusing mystery than a solvable one.

Dax wasn’t sure Halia had believed his answer, but that didn’t matter.

She had no proof of him disobeying her. Even now, with her staring up at him from where she sat with her glass of wine that swirled with movement from the ship, she had no proof he was disloyal.

“Tell me, how did that siren coerce two of my top operatives into following her onto a boat and sailing all the way out to this Gods-forsaken land?” she asked, staring at her wine.

Dax clasped his hands behind his back. “Does it matter? It all led to you taking possession of the amulet. The thing you wanted most.”

Halia’s eyes slid to his and latched on.

“Are you curious to know how I got it?”

Dax shrugged, despite his stomach churning with possibilities. “Not particularly.”

She tilted her head. “I sense a change in you.”

He sighed. “How so?”

Halia studied him. “You’re not looking at me like you hate me. That, I was used to. No, I sense … acceptance. Like a worm that knows its destiny is to be eaten by the bird. ”

Dax swallowed, unsure what to say.

Setting down her glass, she stood and approached him slowly. “You know, Dax, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you and the siren had gotten terribly close.”

He shrugged. “It’s better that she thinks of me as a friend.”

“Why’s that?”

“Intel,” he blurted, internally wincing at his haste to explain. “I heard Ophelia was doing the same, so I followed her lead.”

Halia’s lips twitched. “I see.” She tapped her hips with her fingers that were missing rings that he had no doubt she could easily replace. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” Turning, the princess shrugged as she sat back down. “I doubt she survived the dam crashing. Her sister certainly didn’t.”

Dax blinked, thinking of Aurora. “The Scarlet Serpent is dead?” he asked, his chest constricting.

Halia took a sip of her wine. “Astra,” she corrected. “The last I saw of the other one, she was battling three of my guards. I doubt she made it through without a blade in her stomach.”

His hands began to shake. He squeezed them tight behind his back.

Lifting the amulet in her hand, she peered down at it. “Beautiful,” she breathed. “So much blood spilled over something so small.” Her gaze flew up to his. “Tragic, don’t you think?”

Careful to keep his jaw from clenching, he nodded. “What do you plan to do with it?”

Halia paused, her gaze lingering on the amulet before meeting Dax’s eyes again. “I originally planned to destroy it. But now”—she sighed, her expression softening ever so slightly—“it feels like a waste. Too much has been lost for it.”

Dax watched her carefully, his mind racing. This was the first time he’d seen any sign of doubt in Halia. “And what of the sirens? With this, you could give them back Sirenia. Keep them in line, enforce peace—”

Halia chuckled dryly. “Peace? You think, after everything, peace is still an option? No, this amulet … it might just be my ticket to something else. A way to rewrite the rules, perhaps even the throne itself.”

“The throne?” Dax repeated, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

“Yes.” Halia stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You see, Dax, power isn’t just about maintaining order; it’s about rewriting it. With this”—she held up the amulet—“I can challenge anyone, even the king.”

Dax’s heart thudded in his chest. This was more ambition than he had ever heard her express. The king was his ally, but if he ever chose to give Halia the throne … “And where does that leave people like us? Those who have bled for your cause?”

Halia’s face hardened. “Loyal soldiers are always rewarded, Dax. But traitors …” She let the word hang ominously in the air. “They find that my grudges crush windpipes and spike heads.”

Dax’s brows lowered, understanding the unspoken threat. “I am no traitor, Halia.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice softening again. “Which is why I am offering you a choice. Stand with me, truly stand with me, and I assure you the rewards will be beyond your imagination. For you and your people. ”

Dax considered her words, the weight of his next decision pressing down on him. Here was a crossroads, one that could change everything. “And if I refuse?”

Halia smiled, cold and calculating. “Then I suggest you pray that your beloved Mari could forgive you for what would come next.”