Siren Song

Creede grinned at me. He looked a little rough around the edges. There was stubble on his cheeks, but the look suited him, gave him kind of a rakish charm. Today he smelled of salt air, fish, and charcoal in addition to the cologne. Very outdoorsy and nice. “Your relatives know how to make an impression.”



Eleven of the boats stopped about five hundred yards away. The lead boat continued moving closer. I could see a bearded man in jeans and a T-shirt standing at the prow, a loudspeaker in his grasp.



“Ahoy, captain of Mona’s Rival. Is Celia Kalino Graves on board?”



Bubba set down the camera and headed behind the wheel. A moment later his voice boomed across the water, only slightly distorted by the megaphone in his hand, “She is.”



“Stand by for her escort,” was the prompt answer.



“Your escort?” Creede turned to me.



I shrugged. “How the hell would I know? I didn’t even know they were expecting me. I thought I was going to surprise them.”



We didn’t have much time to wonder about it. The words were barely out of my mouth when Ren stepped out of thin air and onto the deck of Mona’s Rival, accompanied by a stunning woman of about twenty or so with Hawaiian features and a dark braid twined with flowers. They each wore the colorful lavalava common in Polynesian cultures and they looked damned good doing it. Ren’s hands were empty, but her companion carried a paper-wrapped package.



“What the—” Creede doesn’t like being surprised, and admittedly he should have felt magic being crafted nearby. He stepped back, reaching his hands out in the same stance he’d had during the Will reading. He froze in mid-motion at a signal from me. I didn’t think they meant trouble and I’d learned from experience that sirens are a touchy lot.



“Celia.” Ren dipped her head, more an acknowledgment of my existence than any show of respect.



“Ren.” I gave her the same in return.



Even her hand wave was as graceful as flowing water. I hated her. Well, okay, not hated—not the way Cassandra thought of me, more in the California sense. She was just so much better at the elegant stuff than me. “This is Hiwahiwa. She is Queen Lopaka’s foremost aide. Hiwahiwa, this is Princess Celia Kalino.”



Creede’s eyebrows just about climbed off his face at the title, but he kept silent. Probably just as well. The sirens were pretty much ignoring everybody but me.



Hiwahiwa bowed, her braid swinging forward to brush the ground. “It is an honor, Highness.”



“The pleasure’s mine,” I answered. Only then did she straighten up.



“Her Majesty assumed that since you were coming on such short notice you wouldn’t have time to pack.” How the hell had they even known I was coming? Sigh. I did not need to be messing with sirens who were also clairvoyant. “She asked that I bring you something appropriate to wear.”



They were dressing me for a meeting I hadn’t even known I was having. Great. Just great. I smiled and took the package she held out. Turning, I made introductions, then excused myself to go change.



I went down to the stateroom, carrying my package. The Rusland contingent was in the mess/kitchen area. They’d quit arguing in favor of glowering silently at each other. I should probably find out what was going on, but I figured it could wait until I got changed.



The queen had sent me a lavalava. I’d never worn one before, so it took me a few minutes to get the knack of tying the skirt. Both the sleeveless top and the ankle-length skirt were a vibrant red that I expected to look hideous on me but just didn’t. The fabric wasn’t cotton. In fact, I couldn’t identify what it was. But it was natural and it breathed beautifully. Much better than the jacket I slipped on over my new outfit. If anyone complained about the jacket, I’d explain about the sun sensitivity. If they complained about the weapons, I’d remind them about my upcoming duel. But I was wearing it and I was going armed. Both Ren and Hiwahiwa had been barefoot. I didn’t do barefoot much. I hoped there were no rocks. Because sneakers would be . . . gauche.



When I finished dressing I stepped once again into the tiny space that served as the ship’s head. I was delighted to find toothpaste and a couple of unopened toothbrush boxes in the cabinet above the minuscule sink, along with a hairbrush. I wished for makeup, but that was too much to ask. Still, in just a few minutes, I was dressed and presentable.



When I opened the door, Dahlmar was standing outside. His hands were clenched into fists, but his voice was calm. Almost serene, in fact, which made the fists all the more noticeable.



“Ivan has reminded me that my first duty as king is to remain alive. He also pointed out that I have no immunity to the siren glamour. Thus, we are staying hidden downstairs.”



Ah, so that was what the argument was about. Couldn’t say as I blamed Ivan. But it does take balls to stand up to a king like that. Then again, Ivan had brains and power and had somehow managed to get his king to safety in the middle of a coup. A sure sign that Ivan had great big polished brass ones.



King Dahlmar brought my attention back to the matter at hand. “It is traditional in this situation to present a gift to a monarch . . . something of significance to you personally or of great value. It would be a grave insult not to do so. Do you have such a gift? We had little time to plan this trip.”



No, I didn’t. I could probably come up with something. Maybe. “Do you have something that would work?”



His expression grew rueful. He made a gesture to include his Disneyland getup. “If I did, would I be dressed like this? I just felt I should warn you. But she anticipated your need for clothing, so perhaps she will understand—” But he sounded doubtful.



“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “I’ll think of something.”



He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t let him. “I said, don’t worry about it.” I’d had a thought. Not a welcome or happy thought, but there you go. I had something that would work as a gift. It was magical. It was valuable. And I really, really, didn’t want to part with it. That should make it perfect.



I pushed past him, moving quickly up the stairs. I was tired. Tired of not being able to eat, of having to slather myself with sunscreen; tired of political bullshit, constant near-death experiences, and narrow-minded assholes stalking me. I hated it all. My life was completely out of control. I was still reacting because everybody else kept anticipating my plans. Worse, there wasn’t any guarantee that any of this was going to change, no matter how much I wanted it to, tried to, change it. And today I was going to have to part with one of my most treasured possessions because of some political bullshit nobody’d bothered to warn me about, and then defend my right to exist.



Sucks to be me.



I stepped onto the deck; the ladies were waiting patiently. Bubba raised a brow at the lavalava, which admittedly hugged every curve. Creede didn’t take his eyes off the women who’d managed to surprise him. I didn’t blame him at all.



“Let’s do this.”



14



A four-seat motorboat was sent to fetch us. Ren explained with some embarrassment that she could only teleport herself and one other person. I pointed out that this was exactly two more people than I could manage. It made her laugh. Even Hiwahiwa managed a smile, though she tried to hide it. The sailor driving the dinghy didn’t bother. He was grinning ear-to-ear.



I returned Bubba’s wave as we drove off. He actually seemed happy to be staying behind with Dahlmar and Ivan. Creede wasn’t happy at all.



I didn’t blame him. I was nervous as hell, bordering on frightened. Would I make it back? Maybe, maybe not. I might be able to talk my way out of this, assuming the queen would listen. But I was already at a disadvantage because she thought I’d insulted her deliberately. I doubted I’d get a chance to explain. Even if I did, Adriana and Ren were both princesses. I was betting their word would carry more weight than mine.



Then, if I made it past the hearing, there was the duel. But that didn’t bother me as much. A straight-up fight I could handle. Until I’d been locked away, I’d trained nearly every day. I’m familiar with most weapons and have made a serious study of a couple of different disciplines of unarmed combat. And when it comes to experience in flat-out dirty street fighting, well, I’ve got plenty of that.



So I just had to get past the talking—which I wasn’t good at—and on to the fighting, which I was. Piece of cake. Yeah, right.



The dinghy pulled up to the mother ship. She was huge and gorgeous. I don’t know enough about boats to describe the ship with any degree of accuracy, but suffice it to say that I imagined her featuring prominently in Bubba’s wet dreams. Strong arms helped me up the ladder and onto the deck, releasing me as soon as I was standing safe on my own two feet. As soon as we were all on board, the fleet began to move away from Mona’s Rival.



You seem worried. Are you well?



I didn’t recognize the voice in my head, so it wasn’t Ren. Since the crew all appeared to be male, I looked to Hiwahiwa by process of elimination. She smiled.



“I’m fine, thanks. Just a little nervous about meeting your queen.”



Queens. You’ll be presenting yourself to the high queen, yes, but to the others as well.



Okay, so Ren hadn’t been messing with me and neither had Jeff. Multiple queens with one high queen. And Hiwahiwa was thinking at me, which meant I probably was supposed to communicate telepathically as well. One problem: I hadn’t been able to do that before the bite and I hadn’t actually learned how since. Still, the basics had been covered way back in grade school when they were testing all of us for the talent, and there was no time like the present to learn new party tricks.



I concentrated, forming the words in my mind while I pictured her face. How many queens are there?



Again she smiled, apparently pleased I’d responded in kind. Currently five. The Pacific line is home to High Queen Lopaka; the lesser queens are from the Aegean, the Baltic, the Sea of Japan, and the Indian Ocean.



None from the Atlantic?