by Hazel Grace
Not only was Taysa an overseer but Mother’s best friend. Always around for birthdays and celebrations, spoiling us with gifts and filling our minds with stories of creatures who once roamed the sea. I was certain she’d give us everything in her power the moment we asked until we approached her about an island of our own.
That she flatly refused before it left the tip of Atarah’s tongue.
Taysa didn’t like using desired spells because it was dabbling with fate and everything comes with a price—one that she didn’t know and couldn’t control.
My sisters and I, being the stubborn and persistent creatures that we are, pestered her for weeks. Composing lists and reasons on why we should have an island of our own, that Mother would’ve wanted us to have it—our own piece of paradise.
Taysa warned us, numerous times, and I can’t blame my current predicament on anyone but myself. She finally gave in after numerous attempts of breaking her down. The price, though, wasn’t one my sisters and I took seriously. We weren’t allowed off the island afterward, stuck to stay on land permanently. The friendly salt water we swam and were born into burnt our skin, which devastated Taysa. She ran to our father with the news, distressed and frightened.
So I made another deal on my own and behind my sisters’ backs.
For my sisters’ freedom to go back into the sea and be with our father, I gave up my liberty—to stay on the island for their release. However, not only was I stuck on this island, but the second desired spell also took my voice.
Taysa understood why I did it, knew that my father having at least six of us would be better than having none. And to this day, she comes to visit me by the shore to give me updates on finding a way to get me off the island and get my voice back.
It’s a double-edged slice to me though.
On land, I can stand next to Tobias, but that’s all we do. Nothing of what I dreamt of I’ve done with him, knowing one day I’ll return to the sea, and I can’t break his heart.
Even though I knew it would happen anyway.
Ridding myself of my current thoughts, I decide to stay away from the Viking to think about my next move, which is the most pressing matter. Obviously keeping him locked up was doing more harm than good. I learned that pride is the most important thing a man possesses, I just wasn’t privy to letting him roam the island, where my father could find him and make things worse.
A wave of black catches my attention, and I don’t have to look up to know what it is.
“Nesrine,” I call out, not lifting my eyes from my book. She creeps around like the shadows, hiding when she doesn’t want to be bothered, which I can sense is right now.
I hear a small groan then her footsteps entering into the modest library.
“Hello Davina,” she greets with a fake chipper tone. “What are you doing?”
“Reading, what were you doing?”
She swings her arms at her sides. “Oh, just visiting our Viking.”
I peer over the pages of my book. “And?”
“Tight-lipped man.”
“Uh-huh.” I drop my book into my lap. “Why is your skirt all twisted?”
Nesrine looks down at it nonchalantly. “Too big.”
“Did big hands land on it?” I watch my sister’s brows furrow then relax. She knows I can read her, she’s not that stealthy when it comes to hiding things.
“I was just trying to help,” she offers with a shrug.
“At least you didn’t get strangled. He can’t stand me. The nice approach isn’t working.”
“I beg to differ.” Nesrine scoots my crossed ankles over so she can take a seat. “You just come off timid.”
“I drew blood,” I counter. “I ran a blade down his face.”
“That’s child’s play to a man like that.”
“I flung him off me yesterday.”
She crosses her slim legs. “It probably felt like a shove.”
“Whose side are you on?”
She pats my calf. “Yours, of course, I was just trying to help, as I said.” I open my book back up and stare at the pages.
“When is father coming by to visit?”
Nesrine picks at her skirt. “He hasn’t said, been busy with the advisors on how to move forward with the folklore.”
“The folklore don’t come over here.”
“No, but we’re being blamed for a lot of their killings.”
I tsk. “Who cares?”
“Father, apparently.” She lets out a sigh. “He doesn’t want us to come off as barbaric.”
“We lure men into the ocean by song, can you think of a better way to die? Besides we only do it when they come around our territory.”
Nesrine shrugs. “Not if your singing is coming within my ears.” I give her a small kick to her hip, which gets her to chuckle.
“Have you told him about the Viking?”
“No. It’d just cause more of a mess, besides we have this.”
“Atarah isn’t on board.”
“Atarah is one person,” my sister retorts. “And there’s seven of us.”
“She’ll get Brylee on her side for sure. Maybe Isolde and—”
Nesrine’s head snaps to me, brows furrowed. “Why are you worrying about this so much?”
“Because he’s in my home,” I stress. “Where did he come from, why is he here?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Mother’s cuff.”
I shake my head. “No, they don’t—”
“Why wouldn’t they? Men talk, legends and myths are born. Vikings are land-hungry people, why wouldn’t they want it and Merindah?”
“Because it’s mine—I mean, ours.”
“You need off,” my sister conveys. “You’ve been here too long.” Her words are soft, but they’re hard against my chest.
I’m changing, I can feel it. My siren tendencies are dimming; the more time I spend on land, the more my body forgets.
Mind you, I’ve adapted a new superpower, if you will. Instead of being able to sing my victims into a daze, I can burn them. My skin ignites into a blaze, which was what the Blood Axe experienced the other day.
“We’ve already spoken about this,” I claim, pulling my knees to my chest. “There isn’t any—”
“And we’ll speak about it as many times as I feel fit.”
I send a glare in her direction. “There is no other way than to ask Taysa to take another thing from us. We’re not going to do that anymore.”
“There is another way.”
“Which is?”
“Kill her.”
“Are you mad?” I fully sit up, tossing my book to the side. “She’s been like a mother to us.”
“We’ll kill her,” she continues cooly. “And bottle her energy so the island remains ours.”
“You can’t kill someone who has helped us.”
“She’s not ignorant, Davina, she knows what she’s doing.”
“We all knew what we were doing,” I defend. “She warned us, we spent months driving her crazy with giving us a safe place to walk and run on.”
“I’m not fully convinced that she didn't know what would happen.”
“You’re just upset that I’m still here.”
“I am, but why can’t a witch find another way?”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe there is no other way.”
“Keep your guard up,” Nesrine goes on, pulling her raven hair off one of her shoulders. “It’s the best advice I could ever give you.”
“I will, but you can’t blame Taysa for what I asked her to do.”
“Working on it,” she replies with a weak grin. A brief silence develops between us, and I know she thinks she should’ve been the one to offer up something else to let the rest of us go free and back into the ocean.
I’ve just always been faster than her.
“What do you think we should do with the Viking?”
She looks over the room. “He’s nothing we can’t handle. But we truly need t
o find out why he’s here. If his people know about the cuff, more of them could come. And we need to know how he got through the veil.”
“Like Isolde said, maybe he’s a siren.”
Nesrine gives me a look. “He’s no siren. He isn’t built like one, he doesn’t feel like one. I would know, I’ve been the closest to him.”
I open my mouth to ask her what in the world she did but refrain. “A spell maybe?”
“Possibly.”
I draw my brows together. “You don’t think Taysa would let someone on our island.”
“Not if she wants to live.”
“We wouldn’t know either way,” I counter.
“Not unless we find a way to get the Viking to talk.”
“Is his boat gone?”
“Been gone for over two days, they may come back.”
“I read Vikings are loyal, I would think they would.”
“Remember it’s only in a book,” Nesrine warns. “Not everything you read is true.”
“Make a move,” Brylee warns. “And we’ll slit your throat right here.” Easy to say when her twin sister already has a blade positioned there.
Removing the metal from my skin, Atarah steps away from me, rounding my body to stand along with her sister.
With a large bowl of water, Brylee hunches to the floor and spills it over the white tiles, letting it puddle out in whatever way it wants.
“Sit,” Atarah orders. I mimic her glare but decide to abide by her request.
The women sit on the other side of the puddle, knees touching each other, while I look back and forth between them. If it wasn’t for their different colored hair and eyes, I’d never be able to tell the difference between the two.
Deep-set eyes, creamy skin, and a slightly pushed-up nose, each of them wear their little crowns on their heads as to remind me of where I am and who they are.
Like I need the reminder.
Atarah peers down at the puddle of water, her white-rimmed eyes turning brighter and more vibrant.
“Take your time,” Brylee states calmly.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snap. They ignore me, as Brylee focuses on Atarah gawking at the water.
“Sorry,” bellows another voice in the room. “I couldn’t get past Nesrine.” I glance up to see Isolde walk into the room.
“You haven’t missed anything,” Byrlee offers. “Take a seat.”
I roll my eyes, now having three of them in the room like this is going to do a fucking thing to make me speak.
“He’s irritated that he’s here,” Brylee suddenly states. “He didn’t think he’d be captured so he came alone.”
“So, he is stupid,” Isolde conveys, pulling her pink hair into a bun of some sort as she takes a seat on the floor.
I don’t even get the opportunity to send her a glare because Brylee shakes her head. “That’s not possible.”
Isolde looks at her. “What isn’t?”
“He didn’t think we’d be here. He didn’t believe we existed.”
Fuck.
More superpowers that I can’t compete with. This keeps me in a dangerous spot because my secrets need to remain just that. If they find out more about why I’m here, I have a feeling that tonight is going to be my last night on this island.
“His facial expression states he’s in shock,” Isolde mutters.
“Wouldn’t you be?” I retort.
She presses her lips together. “No.”
I roll my eyes.
“A mission,” Brylee frets softly. “In front of a group of men who all wear the same clothing as him. Furs wrapped around their shoulders, burly men.”
Her words take me back to my village, where my father publicly announced that I was coming here. Where my men roared with excitement and hope that we’d obtain the item I came here for and be protected against any further invasions from the Highlands.
Atarah and Brylee are reading all of my thoughts from today. Which would mean they’d learn about my mission.
“Didn’t you mention a woman?” Brylee asks.
And I was thinking about Edda today too.
I try to think of more things other than the most important. What I had for breakfast today, how I missed my people, how I wanted to go home and fuck a beautiful lass that resembles—
A hand slams against my cheek, sending my head to the side.
“Watch your thoughts,” Brylee fumes. “You won’t be getting your dirty hands on our sister.” I neglect the sting tingling my flesh because it’s working. The harder I think about something, the more it muddles my thoughts from earlier.
“I was afraid that was going to happen,” Isolde whispers. “He’s in love with Davina.”
I chuckle deep within my chest. “I wouldn’t call it that, darling.”
Brylee’s eyes still bore into my head, but there isn’t shit she can do about what I’m thinking. It’s the one thing they can’t control, which feeds my cockiness.
“He isn’t scared of us,” Brylee bristles. “But he doesn’t like being held by women.”
I point a finger in her direction. “True.”
“Your women not strong enough, Viking?” Isolde taunts.
“Wanna let one come on this island and see?” I counter. She grins, amused that I think any human can take her on.
If Davina can throw me across a room, well…
Brylee’s brow perks, and I know she saw, heard, or whatever the hell she and Atarah are doing, that Davina hurled me a few feet.
“Wish I could’ve seen that,” Brylee conveys.
“I’m sure,” I deadpan.
“What did Atarah see?” Isolde asks.
“Davina throwing the Viking across the room.”
Isolde’s eyes fall on me. “Really?”
Atarah’s breathing starts to become labored and loud, her hand suddenly clutching Brylee’s arm. Her whole frame starts to convulse while her eyes are still clenched shut.
“Take it easy,” Brylee coos. “You’re trying too hard.”
I don’t know which entertains me the most—the difficulty of them trying to read my inner thoughts or the struggle that Atarah is experiencing to push and shove away the useless nonsense and find the things she’s seeking the most.
Serves her right for acting like a bitch.
“Stop,” Brylee snaps, her hand going to her forehead.
Isolde grabs on to her other arm. “What’s wrong?”
Brylee shakes her head, pressing her lips together to stifle back what looks to be pain. “This isn’t right.”
“What isn’t?”
Brylee’s crystal blue eyes zero in on me. And so does her arm, seizing my shirt and yanking me in her direction.
“Why are you here?” she snarls. “What did your father want from here?”
I don’t flinch, keeping my face emotionless. “Rich soil.”
“There are forests and sand here,” Isolde retorts. “Your father is either a fool or you’re a liar.”
I look over at her. “Prove it.” My back hits the hard tiled floors, followed by my skull, with Brylee’s full weight on top of me.
Sitting on my stomach with both of her legs on either side of my waist, she leans over to get in my face.
“The truth will spill from your lips,” she leers. “If you think our not being able to read you is all that we have, you’re mistaken.”
“Looks like you’re having a hard time,” I mock. Brylee lifts my body, bringing my back off the floor, then slams my head right back into it.
“We might have to beat you stupid then. Don’t think my little sister will stop us from—”
“We have to go,” Isolde alludes suddenly. Brylee doesn’t move, ready to rip my throat out. “Help me with Atarah.”
That gets her sister to move. Climbing off me, Brylee and Isolde help a dazed Atarah off the ground.
Nothing else is said as they guide her out of the room, leaving the small puddle of water in their midst. It won’t be the last
time they’ll try to get my truths to spill from me.
Either they’ll kill me or the little one with red hair will. And I’d rather look at Blood when she makes me take my last breath.
At least some of this would’ve been worth it.
I’ve read somewhere that the third time's the charm. I don’t really know if that’s completely true, but since I learn from my books as of late, I try it.
Stepping into the room where Dagen is kept, I peek around the heavy door to see what kind of man I’m going to face today. The manipulative one or the one who straight out wants to try and strangle me again.
Instead, I’m met with something I wasn’t expecting to see.
Dagen the Blood Axe—shirtless.
His muscles are a work of art, like a sculpture made of stone, painted with faint red lines—scars. One starts on his bicep, moving down to his forearm, and another runs down his back, starting from his shoulder and trailing underneath his pants. Water trails down his frame like a river, flowing through little crevices in his stomach muscles as he uses a sponge to wash himself clean.
He’s what Nesrine would call an idol.
Atarah would say he was Hades.
I would say he’s a man of many faces. Ones I’d love to peel back and learn, but he’s taught me enough already about what the definition of a Viking is, and I don’t want to kill him this time.
The traitorous door squeaks as I push it open more, which has Dagen already looking in my direction.
“Back again?” he snides, continuing to wash his body without shame.
I mean, he shouldn’t be, he’s beautiful. But I came here for an entirely different reason, and I was going to follow through with it.
The moment I walk further into the room, he smirks, his presumptuous attitude getting the best of him. I see broad and tawny chests all the time, but it’s his facial hair that has me intrigued, to know what kind of scars he carries under it.
“Figured you’d come back sooner or later,” he continues.
I roll my eyes. He doesn’t see it, but regardless he’s a bother. I’m hoping my plan of letting him free to roam the castle works. He might open up to me more, form a bond or trust me, although, I don’t think he does that very often. He appears to be a man of honor, and the enemy is anyone who isn’t like him.
