Omar’s rambunctious siblings often had dinner in the family suite under their nanny’s strict eye, allowing their parents and Omar one peaceful meal in a day. On this evening in the dining hall, Omar picked at his food while conversation buzzed around him, hearing nothing except highlights of his conversation with Ellie, seeing only the encouraging look in her eyes as they spoke in the stable, tasting only the sweetness of her face and voice.
More than ever before he believed she was the girl for him. Strange how he’d known before they shared even one real conversation. Over the years he had observed her, slyly asked questions about her, and admired her character and reputation as well as her undeniable beauty. He’d spent a lifetime surrounded by pretty girls, enough to know that physical beauty could never be enough. He wanted a lifetime mate he could respect and love, a friend and companion.
“Omar?” his mother said.
He realized tardily that she had spoken his name several times already. He blinked out of la-la land and into reality. “Yes, Mama?”
Then he realized that people, two of them ladies, stood beside their table, and he quickly rose, nearly tipping over his chair. The Earl and Countess of Roxwell and their daughter, the Honorable Gillian, greeted him with glowing smiles. A premonition hit him like a fist to his stomach.
“Lord and Lady Roxwell have invited us to their suite this evening, wishing to honor you, Omar,” his father said, evidently pleased and proud.
“To . . . honor me?”
“For your fearless rescue of our precious daughter,” said Lord Roxwell through a broad smile. His lordship’s hair was red-gold like his daughter’s, but there the resemblance ended. No doubt to Gillian’s relief, she was in all other respects the image of her beautiful mother.
There was further talk, but Omar, drowning in a sea of denial, heard nothing more until his mother spoke the fatal words: “We gladly accept.”
Afterward Omar was not altogether sure he hadn’t let out a whimper of horror. If he did, the noise of the dining room swallowed it.
As soon as the earl’s family departed, with Gillian casting Omar backward glances filled with promise, Queen Sofia tried to rush King Aryn through his dessert and brandy. “We mustn’t keep them waiting, dear.” Then she turned to Omar, squeezed his forearm, and laughed in delight. “What exactly happened today? How could you keep something like this from us, Omar? You never said a word!”
“I said nothing because it was nothing, Mother. A unicorn frightened Gillian’s horse, which dumped her into a copse of little trees. She’s never been much of a rider. She was screaming and swearing and couldn’t seem to move, so I hauled her out while another fellow caught her horse.” He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs, desperately hoping they believed him. “But then she was hysterical, and her horse wouldn’t let her remount, so I let her ride behind me. That is the full extent of my heroism, I assure you.”
Queen Sofia’s pleasure dimmed. “Omar, it isn’t like you to speak ill of a lady. She must have told her parents flattering things about you, for they seem quite eager to befriend us.”
The evening went downhill from there. As they walked to the castle’s west wing, his parents seriously discussed the potential political advantages of an alliance with the island duchy of Roxwell, a manufacturing capital with financial and political ties extending over the entire northern continent.
And the visit with Gillian’s family only deepened Omar’s distress. Her parents urged her to relate her version of the adventure, which bore scant resemblance to his own: The unicorn had been huge and fanged, its horn and eyes glowing red, and Omar had dashed under its very nose, lifted the helpless lady into his arms, and snatched her away from certain death. Strong implications of passionate embraces and declarations of undying love laced every word.
Omar was hard put to keep his jaw from dropping at the lies. Nothing he could say dimmed the gratitude or determination of either set of parents, and Gillian glowed with adoration and triumph.
The visit lasted under an hour, but the king and the earl managed to imbibe a quantity of port while Gillian and the two mothers spoke of family traditions, travel, and fashion. Omar received the distinct impression that his mother wished to regard Gillian as a daughter, and his father seemed quite chummy with the fish-eyed earl by the time Omar helped him out the door and through a maze of halls to their own rooms.
Omar slept little that night. When morning dawned he was wide awake, staring over the edge of his bed at the place where Ellie had sat looking up at him only days before. The day his life equation started to become rational and real.
She was the only woman he would ever marry. That much he knew for certain. If anything, events of the previous night had cemented his decision, providing a stinging eyeful of the life he could end up with if he didn’t stand firm.
He flung himself out of bed, glanced out the window to see clear skies, and threw on running clothes. Some of his best thinking happened while running, and he could use a brainstorm or two.
A few minutes later, as he entered the lobby, he noticed someone else heading out the main doors, a guy in running gear. There were plenty of running trails, so not a problem. But this person turned, saw him, and waited for him to approach. “Omar. Want company?”
“Sure, why not?”
It was the prince from Auvers who’d joined the riding party yesterday. He was young—eighteen or nineteen? But he looked fit, and he’d done his part helping with the horses after the disaster ride.
They decided to run one of the trails beside the lake. “No more than four miles for me today, and slow,” Omar said. “I need to work back up.”
“Good with me, as long as we can do a few sprints.”
“What’s your name again? Sorry I can’t remember.”
“No big deal. It’s Briar.”
They jogged on a path leading west along the lakeshore between flowerbeds and green lawn. A stand of trees blocked the lake from view. Everything seemed idyllic, yet Omar felt uneasy. “Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched? I mean, like, now?”
“Watched by what, flowers?” Amusement laced Briar’s voice, and Omar was about to subtract the kid from his potential-friends list . . . but then Briar glanced at him. “To be honest, yeah, I do. This place is laced with magic. I’m only half kidding about the flowers.”
“When did you arrive?” Omar asked.
“Night before last. Seems like a great place.”
“You haven’t been here before?”
“Never, but I’ve heard about it all my life.”
Conversation lagged, yet the silence was comfortable. Trees still blocked their lake view, but the snow-topped mountains rose above all, majestic and silent.
“Something wrong?” Briar asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but you seem out of sorts.”
“Parents pushing for marriage,” Omar said. “Wrong girl.”
Briar nodded. “Understood.”
No further words necessary. Then the trail cut right toward the lake, revealing a view of the sirens’ island . . . or where it should be.
Omar nearly tripped over his own feet. “Whoa, look at that!” The lake shimmered in morning sunlight, but a thick mist enveloped the island.
“I’m guessing the fog is unusual,” Briar said.
“Very,” Omar said.
They both stood there, panting.
“Magical, of course,” Briar said calmly. “The island has sirens, I’ve heard.”
Omar gave his head a shake. “A friend of mine drove a ski boat to the island the other day and walked up the beach. No human has ever done that before. I’m guessing the cloud is connected to Tor’s island invasion. Sort of a message from the siren queen to keep off.”
“Took a lot of nerve to try a stunt like that.” Briar’s silvery eyes glinted as he surveyed the island. “Fantastic. That island . . . it doesn’t belong here, does it.”
“They say the siren queen moved it here from Singkiang.”
Briar shook his head in wonder. “I really want to see this place.”
“It’s off-limits to guests.”
Briar glanced at him. “We’d better get going.”
A feeling of something wrong hovered over Omar all the way to the two-mile marker and remained after they turned back. Briar was a good running partner. He talked enough, but not too much. Yet Omar sensed impending trouble, and he feared Ellie would be involved. Was Briar connected with it?
After a furtive glance at the blond prince, Omar tried to remember what he knew about Auvers. It was a wealthy land with extensive coastline and many harbors, ruled by a queen with a prince consort. He thought there was some tragic story connected with the Auvers royal family, though he might have gotten his northern countries mixed.
When it came right down to it, Omar didn’t know much about any of his summer companions. In his experience, relationships formed at Faraway Castle seldom went deep, although his sister Layla seemed happy in her marriage to a lord from El Dabaa, an ancient land far to the west of Khenifra. The two had met at the resort every summer, and somehow during the eighth year something had clicked for both of them.
Friendships were difficult enough for Omar. Romance was a greater challenge still, but he was highly motivated. If Ellie needed help or protection, he wanted to be there for her.
He and Briar sprinted the last stretch then agreed to cool down by walking to the docks and maybe even taking a plunge. Now that he’d apologized to the lake serpent, Omar thought he might take the chance.
While they paused at the picnic tables to stretch, a noise caught Omar’s attention. On the shore near the beach, someone was putting a kayak in the water. The guy climbed in, pushed off, and Omar saw him clearly.
Tor.
Taking a kayak.
To the island. The island covered in magical mist.
Omar spun toward Briar. “That’s Tor. He must be siren enchanted. We’ve got to stop him.” He took off running along the shore, shouting, “Tor, don’t do it! Wait—you don’t know what you’re doing!”
Tor heard him. He shook his head and paddled faster.
Omar stopped beside the row of upturned kayaks and stared, his mind racing. What could he do? If Tor entered that mist, would he ever return? Old legends spun through his head. Tor might go insane. He could be dragged under and drowned, or even eaten by sirens!
Briar appeared at his side. “What should we do? Was he wearing a lifejacket?”
“Yes. He swims like a fish. But the sirens . . .” He made up his mind. Turning, he gripped Briar’s forearm and pushed the button on his wristband. “That calls Ellie Calmer, the girl from the stables yesterday. She might be able to talk Tor out of the enchantment. Go back to the castle—she’ll find you. I’ll take another kayak and chase Tor down.”
He flipped one upright.
No paddle.
He took off running toward the storage sheds and racks.
“But won’t the sirens enchant you too?” Briar ran beside him.
“I don’t think so.” Omar snatched a paddle off a rack and ran back. “Go get Ellie!”
“Right. Be careful.” Briar headed off toward the castle.
Omar shoved his kayak into the water, climbed in, and started paddling. Tor had a big head start, but there was still a chance.