My dressing room is bustling with activity. Two doctors are looking me over and both my parents are fussing over me. Mom’s worried about my injuries and my dad is giving me tips about the next trial—but I can barely focus on a word he says. I really only want Bash and Halen at this point, but family and servants only. I’m tempted to tell them Bash has my name tattooed on his chest as a promise to me, but I keep my mouth shut.
If the third trial goes as planned, it’ll be over in no time—and both my dad and I will swim away from it. Well, he might be unconscious, but he’ll be alive, and that’s what counts.
One of the doctors turns to me. “Your wounds are sewed up.”
“She’ll be okay to keep on with the trials?” Dad asks. “I should’ve just used the Ayers power. I don’t know what I was thinking. Suppose I was distracted.”
“She’ll be fine—just needs to have the sutures looked at in a couple of days.”
I press on the stitches, and find the wound barely hurts. Kind of tingles.
The doctor nods. “Magic, your highness.”
“Perfect.” Dad turns to me. “Are you ready, or will you need another moment before we head back to the arena?”
My stomach knots and I glance at the bag I brought. “Could I have a few minutes alone to give myself a pep talk?”
“I can give you a pep talk like none other.”
“Please?” I force a smile. “I just need some time alone to prepare myself. Then I’ll be able to give it my all.”
Mom turns to him. “It’s only a couple of minutes, Tiberias.”
He glances back and forth between the two of us. “I can’t say no to either one of you.” He kisses the top of my head. “Just two minutes, daughter.”
I nod. “Promise.”
Mom takes his hand, then everyone clears the room.
My heart thunders so hard I shake. I take a deep breath and make my way over to the bag. I look around to make sure nobody’s watching, even though I know I’m alone.
If this doesn’t work, I’m out of luck. I need this to work.
With trembling fingers, I unzip my bag. Look around again. Pull out a bottle of wine I snagged from the castle the last time I was there. I quickly open it and gulp down two glasses.
Enough to give me the buzz I’m going to need to pull this off but not enough to inhibit my thinking. Can’t let anything get in the way of this.
It’s my dad’s life on the line.
And he’s not even worried. Didn’t act like anything was wrong moments ago.
Knock, knock!
“Time to go, Marra,” my father calls from the other side of the door.
I force the cork back into the bottle’s mouth and shove it into my bag, then zip it up before opening the door.
Dad smiles. I’m overcome with emotion and throw my arms around him.
Maybe I should’ve drunk a little less. Can’t change that now.
The two of us head back to the arena. He whispers about the plan in place for his servants to revive him.
I don’t bother to let him know those plans won’t be necessary. I’m going to render him unconscious without taking his life. It’s the only way—even if he doesn’t see it yet. He will, though. And he’ll even commend me for my out-of-the-box thinking.
Everything goes by in a blur as we re-enter the field. It has been cleaned of all blood and any other remnants of the downed monster that had only been trying to fight for its life, to protect itself. Guilt stings for my part in its end.
I really should’ve refused to take part in these trials. So barbaric to have to kill anything. Or anyone.
We reach the microphone, and Dad praises my efforts so far. “Clearly, Marra is a worthy modern-day Queen Sirena. I couldn’t be prouder of her. She hasn’t turned away from any challenge presented to her—and I know this third and final test will be the hardest in many ways.”
I smile and nod. I feel bad about going against his instructions on this, but he’ll understand. He’ll be alive, no chance of death.
He continues on a little longer, sharing his love of Queen Sirena’s legendary stories, and asks me if I want to share anything.
I shake my head. “Let’s just do this.”
Before the wine wears off.
We make our way to the middle of the field, and servants bring us our tridents.
You really going to try and skirt the rules?
“It’ll work,” I mutter without moving my lips.
He’s confident in his servants’ abilities.
“I’m not. Just go along with it.”
You’re the boss.
The servant who handed my dad his weapon raises three fingers. “Three … two … one!” He moves out of the way.
Dad holds up his trident and gives a slight nod, clearly wanting me to attack. I lunge for him, giving him a little of what he wants. We spar, each blocking each other’s moves. So far, he isn’t going easy on me. However, that will likely change as he wants the only end he can see more than anything.
We go back and forth, intensifying the battle but not bringing it to life-threatening levels.
Not yet.
“You trying to keep it exciting for the audience?” Dad asks.
“Sure.” I go with that. Then I pick up the pace, and swing my weapon close enough that I nearly nick his skin.
He beams. “Better!”
I want to shake him. How can he be so eager for his own death? Doesn’t he realize the guilt he’ll leave me with if this goes wrong?
Dad glances at my fists. “Nice.”
They’re glowing because I’m mad at him.
“You going to use the Ayers power against me?” Now he’s taunting me. Probably knows how much I don’t want this.
I stop mid-movement, and he crashes into me. His trident flying from his grasp.
“Didn’t see that coming.” He sounds so proud.
My stomach knots as I prepare for what’s coming next. He lifts a brow, clearly confused.
Good.
I open my mouth and take in as much water as I can. Hold onto it and burst out into song. It’s one he sang to me when I was young and thought he was my doting uncle.
He tilts his head and draws his brows together.
Thunks sound in the audience as mermen fall at my voice.
Dad doesn’t budge, doesn’t crash down. In fact, he leans on his weapon and straightens his back. “That’s lovely, and I couldn’t be more pleased with your song choice.”
More thunks sound in the background.
I struggle to keep singing. He’s trying to distract me, but I’m not going to let it work.
Feminine shrieks and cries sound as the mermen continue crashing down, losing consciousness—like my dad should be doing. But he isn’t.
Why not?
My mind races as I start the song over. A thought strikes me—whenever I sang, those with me never passed out.
Dad must be too close to me for this to work. I inch away from him, belting out the lyrics as loudly as possible. He doesn’t move, and I finally stop when half the arena separates us.
He rushes toward me, his trident aimed right for me. I hold up mine and block it, forced to stop my song. I grunt and push against him. “Why aren’t you passing out?”
“I noticed the missing wine from our room, and when your mother knew nothing about it, I put two and two together—you wanted to use your siren powers on me to keep from having to kill me.”
I struggle against him. “How did you figure that out?”
“You’re my daughter.” He presses his bar harder against me. “I know how you think.”
“But how’d you keep from succumbing to the song?”
“Magic.”
“Of course.” Disappointment washes through me. My perfectly laid out plan isn’t going to work.
Or will it? I have to keep trying.
I’m not going to kill him. I’ll find another way around the stomach pains and ancient legends.
Dad comes at me, swinging his trident. “You need to do this.”
“No.”
He thrusts it at me, and I duck out of the way. He strikes again, this time brushing one of the spikes against my stitches. Blinding pain paralyzes me momentarily. Once I recover, I see the tips of his weapon aiming straight for my chest. I move my trident to divert his attack.
My dad is trying to force me to fulfill Sirena’s dad curse, even if it happens through self-defense.
He’s going to be sorely disappointed.
We dart around the arena, him attacking and me deflecting. He moves so quickly, it’s almost surreal. I can barely keep up. I gasp for water. Focus my attention on protecting myself without inflicting the slightest injury upon him.
Dad stabs at me from the right. I whip my trident around to intercept.
Move to the left and surprise him. He won’t see it coming.
“I’m not going to kill him.”
His people are ready to revive him. They’ve done it before.
“Doesn’t mean they can do it again.”
My dad darts back and forth, swinging this way and that. His weapon heads straight for my neck. I hold out my trident to prevent myself from being impaled.
Instead of countering my move, he throws himself into the points.
I stare in disbelief. Shock.
The tines of my trident stick out through his back. The water around us turns bright red before dissipating to pink.
He looks at me, the light fading from his eyes. “I told you this needed to be done. It’s all for you.”
His eyes close.
I scream for help.
His body goes limp.
“Somebody save him!”
Everything around me disappears as a warmth spreads through my body, starting at my hands and radiating out.