Siren: A Dark Retelling

by Hazel Grace

  “If you wanted to know more personal details, Blood,” I state with a smirk, “you could’ve asked me yourself.”

  She fixes me with slitted eyes when I look back at her sister, Isolde.

  “Blood, there is a lot of it,” she announces to the room. I almost scoff, in a room of another set of beings it might give someone pause, but not these she-devils.

  “Is that why you call me Blood?”

  I shake my head. “It’s because of your hair.”

  “What?” Isolde asks.

  “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

  “Are you speaking to him?” Brylee asks out loud. She must answer ‘yes’ because she continues. “Why? He doesn’t need to—” She stops, and it frustrates me that I can’t hear Davina unless she wants me to.

  “He’s a warrior,” Isolde digresses. “He’s fought in many battles, been injured.”

  “How many times?” Davina asks. I glance at her again with an exasperated look, but she ignores me and fixes her attention at the back of her sister’s head.

  “Well over a dozen.”

  “Nineteen,” I answer.

  “He was tended to by that woman in the furs.” Davina cuts her eyes to me.

  “Edda,” I tell her, looking for any sort of jealousy to spark in her pupils—none.

  “He’s supposed to marry her,” Isolde falters. “His father wants and speaks of it several times.”

  “That’s such a disappointment,” Nesrine mutters next to my right ear. Davina’s eyes follow her sister, whose hand brushes my shoulder and glides across to the other.

  Isolde looks at Nesrine. “He isn’t sold on the idea.”

  Nesrine shows up on the other side of my face. “Now that is interesting. Tell me, Viking, how will you ever go home to boring-looking women when you’ve seen the best there is to offer here?”

  Again, another fact. All of the sisters are exotic beauties, each with their own different features and shades, but the only one I’ve been slightly fascinated with is the one who doesn’t speak out loud.

  I try to keep reminding myself that their powers are something that might be addictive. I have no clue if it’s my thinking or if they are doing something purposely to keep my guard lower than it should be. But the more time I’m here, the more I find myself opening to them—especially her.

  “He’ll be the leader of his people,” Isolde quips, her brows slowly starting to descend. “But he doesn’t know if he wants the power.”

  “Of course, I want it,” I retort. “I’m the eldest son of Oryn the Great. It’s my duty to—”

  “Relax on the honor,” Nesrine mumbles on the side of my face. “We wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay here.”

  I pull myself away from her and turn my head in her direction. “I don’t want to stay here.”

  Her black eyes glimmer in amusement. “Of course you do. What man wouldn’t—” She stops her next words, head slowly turning in the directions of her sisters, which I can only guess on the one. “You need to stop coddling him.”

  Silence fills the room, and Nesrine straightens her back seconds later, leaving my space.

  “Don’t leave me in suspense,” I announce, pulling my head to Davina. “What do you want to do with me, Blood?”

  “You already know what I want from you.” She meets my stare, bold and exquisite. Her crystal-green eyes collide with her hair, already making her stand out.

  And I hate how much I notice it.

  “Can you read my mind if I whisper something to you?” I ask.

  Davina’s brows snap together. “No.”

  My lips lift. “Then I’ll say it out loud. I’m hoping what your wanting to do with me involves your plush lips and my hands meshed in your hair while I—” My long strands are yanked back as I stare up at Atarah’s pearl-colored eyes glowering down at me.

  “Watch your dirty mouth,” she seethes. “I’m growing tired of you and the words that leave it.”

  “I can’t read him when he isn’t looking at me,” Isolde chides. Atarah lets me go with a shove, but I’m more disappointed that I didn’t get to see Davina’s face while I finished my remark.

  I’m met yet again with Isolde as she continues her strange ogling of me.

  “His father sent him here,” she immediately states, sending my body rigid. The girls suddenly move closer, encompassing me in their circle, and I can feel their anticipation seeping into my skin.

  “What else?” one of them asks impatiently.

  “He was asked to come here,” Isolde continues, her brows drawing together again in concentration while I meet her eyes with defiance in my head. I will lose every ounce of trust with Davina and all my work will go to shit if Isolde spills the truth.

  “For what?” Nesrine prods from behind me. Then her voice is closer. “You better hope it’s for adventure, Viking, because my eldest sister has been wanting to rip into you since laying eyes on you.”

  I’m not afraid of death, not fully, dying in paradise at the hands of seven women might be a feat for some men, but me, I’d rather die on the battlefield with my pride still intact—which might be in a few minutes from now.

  “To observe the land,” Isolde recites. “To see if this island held any good soil for farming.” I stare at her, listening to the words that leave her mouth. I repeat them once because it’s what I wanted them to believe so how good are these so-called powers that this Siren has?

  My mind begins to slowly reel at my luck, how she didn’t just out me in a room full of beings that want me dead.

  “You told the truth.” My concentration is broken the moment Davina speaks, my eyes immediately falling on her. She gawks at me, appearing taken back that I spoke the truth. I can’t say that I blame her because I’d never believe me either, I would’ve been buried in the ground somewhere.

  “That’s absurd,” I hear Atarah upbraid. “We’re on an island. Why would he make a trip back and forth such a long ways for farming? It makes no sense.”

  “It doesn’t,” Isolde replies calmly. “But—” Atarah rounds the stone slab I’m sitting on and stands in front of me, blocking my view of Isolde.

  “Can you be wrong?”

  “I never have before,” Isolde states. “It’s what I saw and heard.”

  “But it makes no sense,” Atarah argues, clenching her hands into fists.

  “Give it up,” Nesrine asserts. “You just want to kill him.”

  “Because he’s not supposed to be here.”

  Nesrine shrugs. “Something is wrong with the veil then.”

  “I’ll have to summon Taysa,” Isolde chimes. “There has to be a reason.”

  “What did you girls find out?” a male voice booms through the room, changing the air and adding some testosterone.

  They all remain silent for the first time, heads bowed and averted from telling him exactly what happened here.

  Except Davina.

  She’s still studying me with confusion and relief plastered on her face, while I feel a small twinge of remorse that she isn’t rallying with her sisters and believing it.

  “Well?” King Triton persists, stepping deeper into the room.

  “He’s telling the truth,” Davina voices with a small smirk to her lips.

  “The truth?” I feel his hesitation land on me, and I tear myself away from his daughter to him. “What are you?”

  I perk a brow. “What?”

  Shirtless with gray chest hair and his trident in hand, King Triton strides toward me as his daughters step away to allow him room.

  “You have something special about you,” he stresses through deepened brows. “You’re not just a Viking.”

  “I can assure you I am.”

  His beefy hand lands on Isolde’s shoulder, who is still sitting in front of me. “Go rest.”

  She instantly does as he asks, striding out of the room while taking a few of her sisters with her. The king takes her place and swallows the chair with his compact body. Davina takes
a step toward him, followed by Atarah, remaining silent behind him.

  “You know this changes nothing,” he tells me. “I don’t trust you, and letting you go free is out of the question.”

  “So even though I’m innocent of the crimes you’ve accused me of committing, you’re still going to kill me?”

  “I’m a just man but not a stupid one.”

  “Then where do we go from here?”

  Atarah crosses her arms. “He won’t be missed. His ship won’t be able to wait around forever.”

  “Is it still there?” her father asks.

  “It arrived yet again the other day.”

  “How many men did you bring with you?” he asks me.

  “I’m not going to give away my men,” I deadpan.

  “Then you’ll give your life.”

  “Father, he’s just proven that—”

  “You can leave, Davina,” he orders. “I’m going to speak man to man with this Viking.” She opens her mouth, but Atarah links her arm with her sister’s and escorts her out of the room.

  King Triton lets a few moments pass before he speaks again. “I respect a man who’ll protect his people, but you’ll also have to respect mine.”

  “Your killing me is going to do nothing but upset your daughter and cause the slaughter of more innocent men.”

  “My daughter?” he repeats as he leans forward. “Why would my daughter care about you?”

  “Because I’m like a damn pet, apparently.” He doesn’t seem amused, but I was hoping he’d play into the daughter line I laid down. If he is the man I think he might be, he may think twice about hurting his youngest daughter. I heard fathers had a soft spot for the most part for their little girls. Mine always referred to my sister as his little lass with stunning dark hair and ocean blue eyes.

  “Why didn’t you bring other men with you onto the island?” he asks, quickly recovering.

  Good question.

  “Most of my men came down with scurvy from the long voyage,” I lie. “And I didn’t want anyone to slow me down nor did I want to carry around a dead body.”

  “So you kept all of your men aboard a ship?”

  “Thought it’d be easier coming in and out.”

  He elevates a brow. “Alone?”

  “Alone,” I repeat.

  “Sounds awfully foolish in case you got hurt.”

  “I planned to be in and out.” He seems to like that failed outcome because a small quirk plays off his lips.

  “You’re a prince to your people?”

  I shake my head. “No, we don’t have hierarchy of that nature where I’m from.”

  “So you won’t be missed then.” I stand from my chair, already tired of his attempt to make me feel intimidated. Seeing Davina relieved at my alleged telling of the truth spoke volumes. I have his daughter in my back pocket, and it’s up to him if he wants to play the devil in this conclusion of events.

  “I’ll be more than missed,” I address confidently. “I’m the Blood Axe. The fiercest warrior of my clan. Get rid of me and you’ll have more than just my men surrounding this magical island you call home. My father won’t rest until I’m home safe.”

  “Small words coming from a big man,” he replies stoically.

  “Truths, Your Majesty,” I mock. “Give it a shot and try your chances. Because my people will burn this island to the ground.”

  “Why do you keep trying to keep me alive?” His voice doesn’t startle me anymore with the annoyance always laced in his tone. I’ve become accustomed to the way his pride always leads him, and he hates being helped.

  “Why do you always keep asking boring questions?” I retort as I keep walking along the shoreline.

  “Curious,” he alludes. “You seem to be the only one who fights for it.”

  A wave crashes higher up the beach, and I jolt away so that it doesn’t touch my skin. The once calming sea is not only harmful to sailors when they cross our borders but now me as well. It burns like acid, reminding me of the choice I made to let my sisters go freely off this island while I remain a prisoner.

  “Scared of the water?” Dagen asks me, walking in line with my every step.

  “Hardly. I just can’t touch it anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Again with your questions,” I sigh, keeping my eyes straight ahead for the line of forests that I want to hide away in.

  So much for that idea.

  “Only fair since I was interrogated.”

  “You’re a prisoner here.”

  “And you’re bored here.”

  I halt midstep in the sand. “What do you want?”

  Dagen stops with me, aligning his tall body with mine. “I think I already answered that question earlier.”

  I’m hoping what you are wanting to do with me involves your plush lips and my hands meshed in your hair.

  I stare at him not because I have nothing to say but because my mind is playing out that scenario. Dagen is broad and strong, his blue eyes stand out over his dark features, giving him a kind demeanor when he isn’t scowling.

  “Thinking about it?” he inquires confidently while his mouth twists.

  “Give it a try, Viking.”

  He lifts a brow. “I’m afraid I’ll fly across this beach if I do.”

  “Smart man.”

  “How can you swim in your little basin of water out back if you can’t touch the ocean?”

  I shrug and begin walking again. “No idea.”

  “How long can you stay out of the water?”

  “Few hours, my body has adapted, and I can be without it longer.”

  “How long have you been like this?”

  The pit of my stomach starts to ache at the reminder. “Almost three years.”

  “How old are you?”

  I snap my attention to him. “How old are you?”

  “I’ve seen thirty years.”

  “And you’re not married?”

  He keeps his eyes on the sandy beach ahead. “No.”

  “I’d ask why but I’d obtain your broody answers.”

  “More than likely.”

  “Edda not good enough for the infamous Blood Axe?”

  “She’s a good woman,” he offers. “Strong, kind, she’s loyal to the clan.”

  “But?” He remains silent, insinuating that there is more to the story than he wants to talk about. I can’t say that I’m not curious. If he was a man of my world, he’d have Sirens fighting to have him, to keep him. It’d be an interesting sight to see how he’d handle that.

  We breech the woodland edge, the light dimming the moment we pass the brush. Birds sing and tweet a lovely melody, welcoming me to the unobscured outside, where all my problems lie. Dagen follows close behind me, and the instant the trees open up a bit, he jerks me back. My back collides with his chest as his arm wraps around my middle and beneath my breasts.

  “Stop,” he demands, tightening his hold on me.

  My eyes narrow. “For what?”

  “What the hell is that?”

  I glance around. “What?”

  “Those.” His arm extends in front of me, pointing straight ahead to nothing. There is nothing dangerous on this island but my sisters.

  “Need you to be more specific.”

  “The things flying around.” He begins to pull me backward, and then it hits me when I understand what he’s talking about. Ahead are blue specks of light, floating around the sky in beautiful spots and patterns, softly lighting the forest.

  “Those are noctiluca,” I tell him, resting my hand on his forearm. “They won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  His grip loosens as I break from him, proceeding to walk deeper into greenwood that reminds me why I wanted a place of our own in the first place. The air is different in here, fragrant and refreshing. A small little place for me to trample through to clear my head. The aqua-colored tones swirl around me, welcoming me back. I consider the little creatures my friends, they guide me through the woods and illu
minate my way.

  “Davina.” I arrest my next step and turn around to face him. Dagen stands still in the place that I left him, brows furrowed in response. His shoulders are tense, in a stance ready to fight.

  “Trust me, Viking,” I tell him, extending my hand for him. “I’ve saved you how many times? I’m not going to kill you now.”

  He surveys the area once more before moving forward and, surprisingly, takes my hand. I guide him deeper into the coppice of trees and bushes, streams of the sun breaking through the tops. It’s peaceful here, nothing but nature surrounding us to keep all the bad things out. All the battling thoughts in my head about Tobias and how I led him down this path when I should’ve kept him away from the island. My disappearance may have hurt him, but he was strong enough to endure it.

  It was just that I couldn’t.

  I release Dagen’s hand, but he still stays fastened to mine, following me to the small opening where I always sit on a fallen log. Orange and red leaves path out my trail, and when I place a foot in the crevice, Dagen gives me a small yank.

  “You’re either brave or stupid, Blood,” he professes. I revolve on my heel to face him.

  “It’s safe here,” I oppose. “This is my home now.”

  Slowly, he shakes his head. “You don’t belong here.” His words hit me like a slap to the face. I’m about to pull my hand from his until he continues. “You don’t belong anywhere.”

  “I don’t understand what you—” His free hand comes up to my face, cupping my cheek and chin.

  “Are you an angel or a devil?” he proceeds as his thumb grazes my warm skin. “Because something like you shouldn’t exist to mankind. We can’t handle it.”

  “I’m the daughter of King Triton,” I vouch with furrowed brows. “Son of Poseidon.”

  “So you are unearthly,” he hedges softly as his blue eyes float from my lips to my green irises. “How is a man not supposed to want you? To fuddle plans that have already been made and make them question their whole future.”

  “You’re speaking of you,” I state, feeling his warm breath touch the tip of my nose. “You want me.”

  He blinks then releases a stuttered exhale, straightening his spine. “What idiot wouldn’t want a beautiful woman? It’s just the strong ones that can resist it.”