A Siren's Song

The first man stepped over the railing before I had even reached the second verse, which was almost insulting.

I had barely warmed up. But the refrain was always the killing move.

Rain ran down the side of the ship in silver lines, turning the deck slick beneath his boots as he climbed onto the railing. One hand remained loosely curled around the wet wood, while the other hung uselessly beside him. He didn’t seem to notice the storm, the shouting behind him, or the black ocean churning several feet below. His eyes were fixed on the water, wide and distant, watching something that existed only for him.

That was the useful thing about a siren’s song. We never had to agree on what the victim saw.

One man might see a beautiful woman waiting beneath the waves. Another his wife, even if she had been dead for twenty years. Some heard their mother calling them home. Others saw lovers, gods, promises, lost children, dead brothers or whatever else their hearts had been foolish enough to leave unfinished.

Humans were remarkably predictable once you understood longing.

The sailor smiled.

Then he stepped into the Atlantic.

He disappeared beneath the water with a splash.

Kaia surfaced several feet to my right, her dark hair plastered against her face by the rain. “That was fast.”

I ignored her and continued singing.

She grinned before sinking back beneath the surface. Professionalism had never been her greatest quality.

The ship rocked above us as another wave struck its side, its hull groaning under the pressure. It was an ugly vessel, heavy and reinforced, with thick metal plates fastened along the lower timbers and narrow windows placed much too high above the waterline for a merchant ship. Harpoon launchers had been fixed along both sides, their iron heads large enough to pierce a grown merfolk from chest to spine.

Not that we had needed the weapons to identify what these men were.

I had smelled merfolk blood before we ever saw their flag.

There was a sweetness to it once exposed to air, metallic and sharp beneath the salt of the sea. It was a smell I had known since childhood and one I never learned to tolerate.

The second sailor appeared at the railing.

His crossbow hung loosely in one hand while his lips moved around a word I couldn’t hear over my own song. Perhaps he was calling someone’s name. Perhaps he thought somebody was waiting for him below.

It didn’t matter.

The song slid through him.

Come closer.

Not as an order. We didn’t need to command anything so crude.

A good siren song didn’t tell humans what they wanted.

It reminded them of what was already there. Deep down in their ugly hearts.

His crossbow slipped from his fingers and struck the deck behind him. A heartbeat later, he followed it into the sea.

Two.

Lyssara joined my voice from somewhere behind me, her lower harmony threading beneath mine so perfectly that the water seemed to vibrate with it. Kaia came next, higher and softer, until the three voices spread over the ship like mist.

The effect was immediate.

Shouting faded.

Boots slowed.

One sailor began crying with such sudden intensity that I almost wondered what tragedy the song had dragged from his mind. Another dropped his knife and started laughing as though someone had told him the best joke of his life.

A third walked directly into the mast.

Kaia’s voice nearly broke.

I glared at her. This wasn’t a joke.

Her mouth twitched around the song.

The sailor staggered backward, rubbed his forehead, then calmly resumed walking toward the railing as though he had not just lost an argument with a wooden pole.

At least enchantment restored dignity quickly.

More men spilled onto the deck. Some fought harder than others. One pressed both hands against his ears and screamed. Another drove a knife into his own thigh, probably hoping pain would shock him out of the song.

That worked against weaker sirens.

I was not a weak siren.

His scream slowly turned into a sigh. The knife fell from his hand. Blood ran down his leg as he climbed onto the railing and stepped into the water.

A particularly large sailor managed to wrap both arms around a rope fastened to the mast. His face twisted with effort, veins standing out along his neck as he held on so tightly that the rope cut into his palms.

“No!” he shouted.

At least one of them possessed a survival instinct.

I raised my voice.

His eyes widened. For several seconds, he resisted. Then his expression changed completely.

“Jessica?”

Ah.

Jessica.

There was always a Jessica.

His grip loosened. A heartbreaking smile crossed his face. “I knew you’d come back.”

He released the rope.

Three seconds later, Jessica drowned him.

Humans should really stop naming women Jessica. That name has brought down more men than any weapon or army.

The remaining sailors followed one after another until only one man remained standing near the wheel.

The captain.

Only he remained, both hands wrapped around a long iron harpoon. He had packed wax into his ears, which explained why he was the only man aboard who still seemed capable of remembering that walking willingly into the ocean was generally considered a poor survival strategy. Smart. Annoying, certainly, but smart.

I let the final note fade.

Lyssara and Kaia stopped with me.

For a moment, the only sounds left were rain against wood, waves breaking against the hull, and several men in the water who had finally discovered that whatever loved one they had expected to find beneath the surface was not, in fact, there.

The captain turned slowly, searching the water. He couldn’t see us with his weak human sight.

Fine, I will help him. I raised two fingers.

Lyssara vanished beneath the surface.

The captain caught the movement and spun around, lifting the harpoon just as a blue-green tail broke through the waves behind him. Lyssara launched herself high enough that half her body cleared the railing, grabbed him by the ankle, and pulled.

He hit the deck flat on his stomach.

The harpoon fired uselessly into the storm. A second later, he disappeared over the side with a scream he probably could not hear himself make.

Kaia surfaced beside me. “Can I eat that one?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because of the peace treaty. Don’t act as if you’re hearing this for the first time.”

“But come on, they’re hunting us down to sell our body parts and probably hang them over the fire. Surely, I’m allowed to have a bite too?’ she said, flashing her razor-sharp teeth at me.

I sighed.

Her brows slowly drew together. “Please?”

“You are going to be fat.”

Lyssara surfaced on my other side, already laughing. “She already is.”

“Hey!” Kaia narrowed her eyes. “Do I look like a puffer for you to keep poking? “

“Yes.”

“You’re horrible.”

“That’s how you speak to your princess?” I said jokingly.

“That is not a defense.”

“It has worked surprisingly well so far.”

The ship drifted above us, seemingly empty now.

Almost.

I tilted my head.

Something moved below deck.

Lyssara heard it at the same moment because every trace of amusement vanished from her face.

“More humans?”

“No.”

I could hear the heartbeats now.

Small. Weak.

We submerged.

The cold water closed over me, submerging my upper body and the scales flowing along my lower body until the deep-blue tail spread behind me. My gills opened along my ribs, and the ocean sharpened around me.

Underwater, everything made more sense.

Sound carried through the sea in ways land creatures could barely understand. The smallest scrape of metal vibrated through water. A frightened heartbeat could travel farther than a voice. The ship creaked above us, every beam complaining as the waves strained against it.

And beneath all of that—

four heartbeats.

Weak.

Irregular.

I swam toward the lower hull.

Iron bars had been fitted across narrow openings, protecting a reinforced compartment from outside attack.

My stomach tightened. “Cages.”

Lyssara and Kaia came to a stop beside me.

Neither of them joked.

Inside the first cage, a child stared back.

Merfolk.

Perhaps nine years old.

His skin had gone grey from dehydration, and the delicate gills along his ribs were inflamed, almost red from being kept out of water. A restraint had been fastened around his tail where humans would have bound ankles.

His eyes widened when he saw me.

Then he began to cry.

Quietly.

There was not enough moisture left in him for tears.

I wrapped both hands around the bars and looked past him.

Three more captives.

One woman.

Two children.

Behind them stood several sealed crates. I already knew what would be inside.

Scales cut from bodies.

Teeth.

Fins.

Pearls removed from living merfolk.

Blood preserved in glass.

Anything humans had decided was valuable once separated from the person it belonged to.

Kaia’s face changed. “Can I eat the captain now?”

“Yes.”

She vanished before the word had properly left my mouth.

Lyssara looked after her. “You really shouldn’t encourage her.”

“She made a reasonable request.”

“Last month she ate three smugglers and made a review back home. Now everyone asks me if I can smuggle back at least a finger.”

I ignored that and turned back to the cage. “Break the hull.”

She sighed but moved with me.

The hunters had reinforced the ship specifically against attacks from merfolk, which meant the humans who built it had at least possessed some intelligence.

Unfortunately, they had reinforced the iron but not the wood around it. I drove my shoulder into the hull beside the bars. The timber cracked.

Again.

The fracture widened.

Lyssara struck the weakened section beside me, and together we tore open enough of the hull for seawater to rush into the compartment.

The prisoners panicked for half a second. Only until the water reached them.

The little boy’s gills opened. His entire body shuddered as he drew in his first proper breath.

The relief on his face alone justified every human corpse drifting behind us.

We widened the opening until the captives could swim out. The children emerged first, slow but moving. The woman came last and would have sunk if Lyssara had not caught her around the waist.

Her eyes found me. Recognition came slowly through exhaustion.

“Princess…”

I touched two fingers gently to her forehead. “You’re safe now.”

Her eyes closed. That seemed to be all she needed.

Kaia returned several moments later, chewing something.

I looked at her.

She stopped. “What?”

“Don’t take anything with you.”

Her chewing slowed.

Lyssara turned away. “And stop talking about how delicious feet are!”

Kaia swallowed. “I swear human feet are so ugly, but you should try licking them once. Uff. So good.”

Sometimes I wondered whether allowing her into the royal siren guard had been my first significant strategic failure. Then again, she killed efficiently. One could tolerate personality flaws.

Another patrol appeared from deeper water, drawn by our signal, and took the rescued merfolk from us. The sea had already begun reclaiming the dead around the ship. Small fish gathered first, then larger shadows moved beneath them.

Nothing wasted.

Land creatures found that part of the ocean horrifying.

I had always found their burial traditions stranger.

Put a dead body into a box. Put the box into dirt. Mark the dirt with stone. Return repeatedly to stand above the box for decades.

At least the sea understood what death was for.

Return.

Feed.

Forget.

Continue.

The rescued woman caught my wrist before the patrol carried her away. “There were others.”

I turned back to her. “Others where?”

“Another ship.” Her voice trembled with exhaustion. “They separated us two nights ago.”

“Which direction?”

She pointed east.

Lyssara glanced at me. “More hunters?”

The woman nodded.

My jaw tightened.

Blackwake had apparently decided that one ship full of stolen merfolk was not ambitious enough.

“We’ll find them,” I said.

The woman released my wrist, and the patrol carried her away.

“Nermina.” Kaia’s voice came from above us. Something about her tone made me look up immediately.

A body floated near the surface several feet away, face down in the water. Unlike the hunters, it had not begun sinking. The current carried it slowly past the wreckage.

I swam toward it.

A young male.

His clothing was finer than anything the hunters aboard the ship had worn, although blood and seawater had ruined most of it. Deep wounds crossed his front, and one sleeve had been torn almost entirely from his shoulder.

Lyssara reached him first and rolled the body over.

Dead.

His eyes stared blankly toward the storm-dark sky.

Kaia drifted beside us. “Human?”

I shook my head.

Humans didn’t have green hair unless colored.

Merfolk. But not Atlantic.

Something metallic glinted beneath the torn collar of his tunic. I reached down and pulled free a small medallion hanging from a chain around his neck.

Three curved waves surrounded a crown formed from coral.

I knew the crest immediately.

Lyssara did too. “The Southern Court.”

I nodded.

The neighboring sea kingdom. The same kingdom whose prince I was expected to meet tomorrow.

Kaia looked from the medallion to the sinking hunter vessel behind us. “They attacked them too? Someone connected to royalty?”

That was certainly what it looked like.

I examined the corpse again. Several wounds were narrow and deep, the unmistakable damage left by Blackwake harpoons. But the blood seemed dry. Was he killed a while ago? But why was he in one piece? Blackwake was efficient in making money, using every opportunity and cruelty to get even one penny more if possible. Anyway, I couldn’t save him anymore.

“So, it seems. May he return to the depths.”

Lyssara’s expression hardened. “They’re becoming bold.”

“Bold or desperate. We are so far north; where did they catch him?”

This was dangerous.

Blackwake usually knew exactly how far it could push before one of the sea kingdoms responded with overwhelming force. Hunting isolated merfolk was one thing. Striking people connected to royalty was another.

I closed the dead man’s eyes. “Take him with the others. We’ll return his body to the Southern Court.”

Lyssara nodded.

Soon, it seemed, I would have more to discuss with my future husband than ceremonial greetings and marriage arrangements.

Blackwake hunting our citizens was our problem. Blackwake attacking his people as well made it a shared one. In a way, it was almost convenient. Nothing strengthened a political alliance quite like a mutual enemy.

Above us, the abandoned ship groaned loudly as water finally overwhelmed the damaged hull. One side dipped beneath the surface, dragging loose crates, broken weapons and fragments of timber down with it.

A harpoon sank past me. Followed by another. Dried blue blood stained the metal tip.

I watched it disappear into the darkness below.

“We return home.”

Kaia frowned. “What about the second ship?”

“The patrol will search.”

“We could search.”

“We could also arrive home after sunrise and explain to my father why the Crown Princess vanished the night before she is supposed to meet her future husband.”

Lyssara smiled. “Cold fins.”

“I am not afraid.”

Kaia spoke. “A tiny bit nervous?”

“The last time I was nervous was when I lost Father's king crab pet.”

“Yeah, yeah, you are perfect. Everyone knows.” Kaia rolled her eyes. “Leave some for us.”

We turned west.

The water grew colder as we descended, wrapping around me with the familiarity of something that had known me since birth. Currents pressed against my scales and shifted around my tail. The noise of the dying ship faded behind us until there was nothing left but the sea.

My sea.

My kingdom.

One day, the northern Atlantic would be mine to lead.

Not because someone had simply placed a crown above my head and expected me to grow into it, but because I had spent my entire life preparing for that responsibility. I knew our borders, our military routes, our treaties, our enemies and our trade currents. I could identify every major house in the Atlantic Court and tell you which ones hated one another because of disputes older than their grandchildren.

Everyone had always known what I would become.

My parents knew.

The Council knew.

The military knew.

I knew.

Tomorrow I will finally meet the prince I had been promised to since childhood. Our marriage would unite the northern and southern Atlantic, strengthen both armies, and place one family over waters that had remained divided for centuries.

The path had been drawn for me long before I was old enough to swim without someone watching.

One way.

Straight.

Clear.

I never found that frightening.

Quite the opposite.

There was comfort in knowing exactly where you were going.

Behind me, Kaia suddenly called, “Princess!”

I turned.

She was holding the dead captain’s hat. “Can I keep this?”

I stared at her. “You ate him.”

“Yes.”