by A
every stone and swimming fish.
I didn‘t waste much time looking at it or any of the other natural wonders surrounding me.
Because we had come into the presence of royalty, judging by the arrangement of six thrones
carved from the native stone, in graduating sizes and complexity leading to the massive center
chair.
The thrones were occupied, each chair seating a siren of imperious beauty. While I couldn‘t
be sure, I could almost guess which woman represented which ocean based on their
appearance. Each was completely unique in her appeal, coloring, and dress. One throne was
empty. I presumed it was for the Atlantic queen who no longer existed.
They were dark skinned and light, Asian and Caucasian. One woman bore a particularly
striking resemblance to Ren—presumably her mother, queen of the Mediterranean branch. A
tiny woman with Japanese features was, I assumed, the ruler of the Sea of Japan.
On the center and largest throne sat a tall blond woman who looked remarkably like me,
only better. A lot better. Her blond hair was loose, flowing unhindered to the waist of a
crimson lavalava hemmed in glittering gold. Her skin was too fair to actually tan, but it had the
hint of a warm glow. All of her features were beautiful, but her eyes . . . her eyes were
unforgettable. Because while she had the body of a youth, one look in those storm gray depths
and you knew she was ancient. There was both wisdom and cold, implacable pragmatism in
her gaze. I knew I should look at each of the queens, take their measure. But I couldn‘t seem to
look away from Queen Lopaka.
Even without the benefit of my vampire talents I would‘ve felt the power in that clearing. It
was thick, thrumming, almost a separate, living presence that grew with each passing moment.
Ren appeared beside Hiwahiwa and the two of them led me forward until I stood directly in
front of the row of thrones. The drumming continued, growing in intensity as more women,
sirens all, filed into the clearing, sitting on the ground in groups of four or five on either side of
the main path.
At a tiny gesture from Lopaka, the noise of the drums and the murmurs of the crowd stopped
in an instant. The rushing splash of water was deafening in the sudden silence.
Hiwahiwa bent almost double before her queen, her long hair brushing the ground at her
feet. ―Your Majesties. I present to you the abomination, Celia Kalino Graves.‖
Abomination. Great. Just great. Although I suppose it was better to find out right at the
beginning where I stood.
She means no insult. It is simply a label for what you are: not human, not siren, not even
vampire.
The voice in my head was calm and melodic, as if it was set to music I couldn‘t quite hear, a
song so heartbreakingly pure that I‘d never forget it if I did.
I shook my head, trying to break the spell. It didn‘t help much. But that was all right. The
warmth of the unheard music clashed in harsh counterpoint against the harsh words of the tiny
Japanese queen. She rose from her throne next to Lopaka. Glaring at me with cold, dark eyes,
her beautiful features twisted into an expression of disgust.
Again the words formed inside my skull. This creature, this . . . thing . . . has no place
among us. Siren blood may be in her veins, but it is blood corrupted. She was summoned to
appear before us weeks ago. Where has she been? She hasn’t even the decency to show respect
by bringing a gift for the queen of her line.
There was no sound, but I could feel the stirring of their minds against mine. Psychics. They
were all psychics. Well, I‘d guessed as much and Hiwahiwa‘s actions on the way here had
warned me. Had she done it deliberately? I was grateful either way.
Each voice in my head had its own melody. Some beautiful, some harsh. It wasn‘t music,
precisely, unless they chose to focus it that way. It was a psychic call. Until now I hadn‘t
understood what my gran meant when she‘d tried to explain it to me. Hell, maybe she hadn‘t
understood it, either.
I took a single, small step, putting myself a fraction ahead of Ren and Hiwahiwa. Bowing at
the waist, I tried to focus my thoughts and project them, the same way I‘d done with Hiwahiwa
on the boat. I knew I was bad at it, clumsy. Several of the faces surrounding me were openly
sneering. But I kept trying. Because if I couldn‘t use telepathy, they‘d hold it against me and
claim that I wasn‘t siren enough to live.
I am here. And I have a gift. My thought wasn‘t musical. It was harsh as the caw of a gull.
But I heard it. And so did they. For just an instant, I saw a hint of a smile twitch at the corner
of Lopaka‘s perfect lips.
By all means, bring it forward. Her voice was calm, but I would swear I felt a hint of
amused approval.
I reached into my jacket while I was still obviously outside striking distance and drew one of
the pair of knives Bruno had made for me. Designed to slay monsters, it was a powerful tool.
As I laid the weapon across my palm, hilt toward her, my vision misted. The knife was the
perfect gift. It was the undamaged one of a formerly matched pair. The other still worked, still
held its magic, but slaying a thousand-year-old übervamp had changed it. Instead of silver, it
was black, and no amount of polishing would restore it. On the other hand, this knife was
perfect. Magically powerful, it was beautiful and practically priceless. Bruno‘s feelings for me
and mine for him were bound up in that blade as surely as the magic was. It killed a part of me
to offer it. But it was the part of me already injured by his leaving and this was the only thing I
had that was worthy of her. I would keep the other knife, use it, and remember him. But this
one . . . this one would be my gift to the queen of all the sirens.
I extended the weapon to her, keeping my eyes down, not so much from respect but to keep
my tears from showing. I was crying. I couldn‘t help it. Never mind that this was the worst
possible time and place for it, the pain was suddenly there, as fresh and intense as that moment
in the courthouse when he told me he was leaving.
Lopaka stood. Her hands deliberately clasped mine for a long moment before she took the
knife. The gesture was warm and curiously gentle. I glanced up. Our eyes met and I realized
she knew, could feel exactly what giving this knife away cost me—what Bruno meant to me.
When she held the knife aloft, rainbows shot from its surface, just like in the safe when the
magic of the Wadjeti had touched it. A single note sounded, pure and clear, echoing through
the clearing like a crystal chime.
Wow. Even after she brought it down to look at the blade more closely, I could feel that tone
in my chest lingering softly as a dream.
A most worthy gift. Crafted in love and pain, as is most that is powerful and lasting. I accept
it from you with great thanks, daughter of my line.
There was an actual, audible gasp at that and the other queen—
Chiyoko, her name is Chiyoko.
Chiyoko staggered as if struck. She half-collapsed onto her throne, her face angry and
confused. You cannot mean to—
Lopaka twisted her head fast as a snake and looked at Chiyoko. If thoughts passed between
them, I wasn‘t allowed to hear them. But while the small Japanes
e queen paled, she did not
back down, in fact she rose to her feet, her expression defiant.
Celia Kalino Graves is a child of my blood, if not of my body. I accept her as I accepted her
ancestor, my brother Kalino. Lopaka‘s voice was utterly calm.
No! A raven-haired beauty rose from the throne two seats down from Chiyoko, her blue-
green eyes flashing. She is not a royal. Where is her prophet? Her warrior guard?
She has them. Adriana‘s voice was unmistakable in my mind. Clear as a bell and just as
clearly unhappy. When her previous prophet was murdered, within a day another appeared.
And the warrior wolf followed her to the alley where she was attacked and killed the monsters
that harmed her. She even has two attendant spirits . . . one the spirit of her former prophet.
Even after death, her guards are faithful to her.
“I cannot believe you would support your mother in elevating a rival to the line of
succession! ‖ Chiyoko was so shocked she spoke the words aloud as well as inside my head.
Truth is truth. Adriana was calm.
It was hard to get a mental word in edgewise when I had to struggle so much to even get a
word to appear in my own mind. I’m not a rival for anyone’s throne.
Well, that certainly got everyone‘s attention. Everyone but Lopaka was staring at me, most
literally openmouthed with shock. Lopaka‘s gray eyes were sparkling merrily and those perfect
lips twitched just a little, as if she was having a difficult time keeping a serious expression.
You would refuse the throne? Chiyoko‘s voice was barely a whisper in my head.
I couldn‘t help but laugh. It startled a parrot in the tree overhead. I spoke out loud simply
because my brain was starting to hurt from all the thinking. ―I‘m no ruler. I‘d only be kidding
myself to think I was. I‘ve always been human. I don‘t know your people or your customs. So,
yes, if someone was actually foolish enough to offer, I‘d refuse the throne. But it shouldn‘t
come up. You have other options.‖ I gestured toward Adriana and Ren. They were the only
ones I knew. There might be others. But I figured either of them would be a better choice for
queen than me. They‘d almost have to be. Hell, Bruno or Creede would be a better queen than
me. They had the magic and the telepathy. I had fangs and gulls.
―You have heard it from her own lips,‖ Lopaka said smugly, also out loud, which caused
more than a few shocked glances between the others. ―She has shown wisdom and prudence
and has honored our customs to the best of our ability.‖ She held up the knife. ―She came here
as soon as she was made aware I was trying to reach her.‖ The looks she gave her daughter and
Ren said that people would be paying dearly for that particular oversight. Lopaka finished by
speaking into my mind. She stepped down from the dais, put a hand on my shoulder, and
turned back toward the other queens. Her hand was warm and gentle and felt remarkably like
Gran‘s. I say that she has earned the right to live. Do any dare gainsay it?
There were some grim looks from the women seated on the other thrones. Chiyoko looked
positively murderous. Still, she gathered her skirts around her and sat fussily back onto her
seat. The dark-haired beauty moved more slowly. But eventually she, too, sat down.
Very well. Lopaka gestured to Hiwahiwa. Have the servants prepared the feast?
Yes, Your Majesty.
Excuse me, Mother. With all respect. Adriana bowed very, very low. I guessed she knew
that Lopaka wasn‘t going to be happy to hear about the duel. Especially not right after she‘d
given me the siren equivalent of the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.
What is it . . . dear? Just the slightest emphasis on the last word, the tiniest hint of
annoyance.
Princess Celia and I have a matter of honor to attend to.
Nothing serious, I hope. Lopaka‘s tone said that it had better not be.
Adriana straightened, her eyes flashing a little in defiance. We had a . . . contretemps . . . the
night we met. We have agreed to a duel. Since she is apparently a siren, it cannot be to the
death. Adriana didn‘t bother to hide her disappointment about that. I‘d thought her quarrel with
me might be resolved by the whole refusing-the-throne thing. Apparently I‘d been wrong.
Maybe she just flat disliked me. Someone who dislikes me? Surely not.
You are a princess, Adriana. Queen Lopaka‘s voice was stern. Princesses do not duel to the
death, regardless of whether both combatants are sirens.
I have no prophet. I have no guard. I will never rule. My title is an empty one. The bitterness
in Adriana‘s voice cut like shards of glass.
Shit. Well, didn’t that just suck. For her. But for me, too. Through no fault of my own, I had
what she didn‘t. To someone as proud as she was, that was just unforgivable.
Empty or not, you are not allowed a duel to the death. To clear victory or first blood only.
Lopaka gave me a look that let me know as clearly as any words that I‘d better watch myself.
If I hurt her baby, all those warm fuzzies from a few minutes ago would evaporate into thin air.
Great. Didn’t this just suck moss-covered pond rocks.
To clear victory then. Adriana turned to me. Agreed?
Like I had a lot of choice. And like I knew what that even meant in this culture. Fine with
me. Do we get to use weapons, or is this hand-to-hand?
Hand-to-hand would be better. Less chance of accidentally going too far. Although even that
would be tricky. I have vampire speed and increased strength. I hadn‘t worked out hard or tried
to spar since the bite, so I wasn‘t exactly sure how careful I‘d need to be. Sirens are immortal
beings, but you can hurt them. Amputated limbs don‘t grow back and brain damage and
severed spines don‘t heal any better than they would for a human. Then again, I‘d never
actually seen a siren fight. It might be that I was outclassed. I could be in for a serious butt
whipping.
Adriana‘s one big advantage was jealousy. Dr. Marloe had said that jealousy works like a
magical poison. I wasn‘t jealous of Adriana. Yeah, she was prettier and a princess, but she was
so screwed up. I mean, Lord knows I have issues with my mother, but Adriana didn‘t seem to
be doing all that much better with the queen. Adriana envied me for some bizarre reason. Envy
is a form of jealousy. Knowing my luck, her weapons would be poisoned for me.
Hand-to-hand. Adriana paused. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of the weapon that
matches the one you gave my mother. Now how had she‘d known about that? Telepathy, I
suppose. One scratch might kill me. Or not. I can’t be sure.
I was a little surprised. A moment ago she‘d been more than ready to risk dying. Now she
wasn‘t? Not that I was sorry, but what the hell?
You are not who and what I thought you were. Adriana‘s voice held clear puzzlement.
Honor must be served, but I am no longer certain your death would be a good thing for me or
my family.
Ah, so she‘d been that sure of winning. She must be very good to be that cocky. Cool. Since
this was the equivalent of a sparring match, it could be fun. I do love a challenge.
In front of the dais, people rearranged themselves into a loose circle about twenty feet in
diameter. The queens remained on their thrones. Since the thrones were on a higher level t
han
that of the fighting area, they‘d be able to see well enough.
I stripped off my jacket, wondering what I should do with it. I didn‘t want to leave it lying
around where anybody could get at it. Most people are honest. But it only takes one who isn‘t.
I already suspected that Ren had sticky fingers. I didn‘t want to lose either my weapons or the
jacket itself.
I was saved by Queen Lopaka yet again. At her gesture, Hiwahiwa stepped forward, taking
my jacket and then standing before me, waiting expectantly.
For what? I looked around and saw Adriana standing nude in the center of the fighting ring.
Oh no. I‘m not good at casual nudity. I looked at Queen Lopaka. ―Is there some big
ceremonial reason we have to fight nude? I mean—‖ I pointed at the rock-strewn sand. ―There
are places I really don‘t want to get sand embedded.‖
She fought not to laugh. The machinations a person‘s face goes through when trying to stifle
an involuntary reflex are actually pretty interesting to watch. Finally she spoke and her words
held all the laughter her well-schooled features didn‘t. ―Nudity guarantees there are no
weapons or charms secreted that could injure the other or protect one from the other. We have
fought nude for millennia. However, I can accept this is a different age and that you are not
familiar with our customs. I will permit enough clothing for modesty, but no more.‖
So, while everybody watched, I stripped down to my undies. I‘d sort of cheated when I put
on the lavalava to begin with; I‘d just tucked down the straps of my bra. Fine. I‘m a prude. But
even though I was wearing my panties and bra, I was seriously uncomfortable. Adriana being
nude was going to change my fighting style. There was something about throwing a punch at a
breast that wasn‘t the same as punching a shirt. Weird but true.
Pretending a poise I didn‘t actually feel, I made myself walk casually through the path the
crowd made for me until I reached the center of the ring.
I don‘t know what I expected: maybe one of those formal bows that start a martial-arts
match, maybe somebody shouting, ―Go!‖ I wasn’t expecting Adriana to launch a high kick at
my face with no warning whatsoever.
She was good and she was fast. Whoever had trained her knew what they were doing. I
