“I’ll tell her a variation—I’ll skip the part about all the lovers.”

He hesitated, scratched the dark stubble on his chin, and finally nodded. He paused. “You haven’t thrown up in a while.”

My gaze slid down to the glass I held, and I raised my eyebrows, hopeful I’d found some cure, when the door to the cabin flew open and Theodore strode in.

My spine straightened. Theodore was pallid, with deep grooves of lingering discomfort between his brows. He stood just inside the door, a thick leather folder of papers at his side. He met my eyes, and then his gaze dipped to the dress I wore.

“It fits,” he said, his tone oddly flat.

“Yes. Do you like it?” I flounced the skirt over my lap and added in an overbright voice, “I’m fortunate that you kept it on your ship all these years.”

Theodore’s gaze sharpened and darted between Lachlan and me. A sudden flush of red colored his pale cheeks. “I beg your pardon?”

Lachlan’s eyes bulged at Theodore’s biting tone. “Good luck,” he whispered before he rushed to stand and made for the still-open door. “If you’d both like some relief, may I suggest a hug?” He tried for seriousness, but there was no missing the delight that filled his voice. “A blood bond is happiest with some level of closeness, especially as it settles.” He swung the door shut before I could throw my glass at him.

I set it down on the table instead, feeling a twinge of guilt for embarrassing Theodore. Perhaps I could charm my way into his good graces. I stood and swayed a little from the drink and lack of food, but I met Theodore’s gaze with my chin high. Even if I’d drunk nothing at all, the whole room would have seemed to tilt. The king of Varya did that without even trying. He drew the air toward him, made the solid floor practically bow beneath my feet. I felt a sort of pain to look at him, his beauty and rigid authority. It made me want to flee.

Since I couldn’t, I smiled fully and inclined my chin toward the folder he held. “What’s that? Do you need my signature on some official paper once you finally reveal our third agreement?”

He gave a grunt. “That’s not a terrible idea, but no.” He looked down at the folder and a lock of dark hair fell over his brow. “These are the contracts the Empress of Obelia sent over with her stipulations for my marrying her daughter.”

“Oh.” I stepped around the settee to stand closer, a soft smile still on my lips. The bunched bond in my stomach loosened and I let out a soft breath of relief. He looked at me with disarming intensity. “Are you… eager?” I asked. “To meet your bride?” I regretted the question instantly.

He considered for a moment. “If I’m honest,” he said, carefully, quietly, “no. But eagerness isn’t necessary. It’s an advantageous match for my kingdom and fulfills what is required of me.”

My brow buckled. “What if she’s awful?”

He shrugged like he’d never considered it.

I half envied the ease with which he could deny himself so much and half pitied him for it. “Have you at least seen her portrait?”

“Yes.”

I waited in vain, smile long gone, for him to say more. “Well… if you find yourself inspired to shirk your responsibilities…” I tried for levity, despite the frantic claws scraping through the inside of my chest. “… Perhaps I can offer you some guidance on how to rid yourself of an unwanted fiancée.”

He shook his head and strode away from me to set the contracts upon his desk, but as he did so, he smiled. A real, full smile. It dimpled one cheek and crinkled his green eyes at the edges. His teeth were white and straight, and I found myself staring after him like an addle-minded girl.

“Is it so hard for you to imagine?” he asked, as he set the folder within a polished wooden box and locked it with a silver key. “To fulfill one’s duty and be satisfied by it? I don’t need a charming or beautiful wife. I don’t need her to be a friend. None of that will benefit my kingdom.”

“And you are your kingdom? There’s nothing you need that it doesn’t?”

He perched on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. He beheld me with one of those frustratingly unreadable looks of his. “Like what, my lady?”

“Like…” Like passion or humor or friendship, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak it. My mind went slippery with his attention locked on me. I shook my head and curled my hands into my wrinkled skirt. “You never answered me,” I said, softly. “Do you like my dress?”

He regarded me, lips curling mirthlessly, then looked me up and down, very, very slowly.

I held my breath as his green eyes roamed.

“You look lovely.” His voice was filled with graveled admiration, but it somehow did not sound like a compliment.

I bit into my cheek, annoyed by that tilting feeling he cast over me. “I cannot tell whether you mean what you say.”

“I always mean what I say, my lady. It’s my implication that you cannot grasp.” He uncrossed his strong arms and gripped the edge of the desk he perched upon. “You are lovely. You’re charming, and if our circumstances were different, I’d likely enjoy a meal with you, bask in your wit, but as it is your beauty and charm are like gnats that I must swat away from my eyes to keep my vision clear. Your qualities are wasted on me. They do not matter, because your purpose and power exceed them.”

The silence between us contorted, a mirror to my insides. I kept perfectly still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me shrink, of making me into some pest when it was his own self-importance that riled. “My purpose and power,” I said in a glacial voice. “And what might that be?”

For once an emotion flickered over his face, but to my frustration, I could not place it. He let me see him tense. He made a moment of pulling in a full breath and slowly releasing it. “Your purpose—the reason I agreed to bind myself to you—is to ensure that you will help me track down and kill King Nemea’s water deity, Eusia. And it’s your power that makes me believe you can. That silent lure you possess is Gods’ power. It’s beyond what a normal Siren can wield.”

I stilled. Blood raged through my ears. “Gods’ power…” I breathed through the light feeling that began to fill my head. “No. You’re… no—”

His acerbic tone fled, and he sounded suddenly like he was speaking to some spooked creature that was a moment away from a rampage. “I believe you’re the daughter of the Great Goddess Ligea.”

My thoughts came clipped and quickly. Theodore telling me he knew me. The Great Goddess Ligea’s statue in Nemea’s ritual room, her face chiseled to dust. I supported myself against the back of the settee.

I’d already given my word to Theodore, and it was my bleeding duty to honor it. I’d likely die trying. “Not possible,” I squeaked. The sickness from our bond had settled, but I still felt ill.

“You have her face.”

I shook my head. “That’s why… that’s why you look at me like that… isn’t it?” I needed air. I needed to move. On weak knees, I bolted for the unlocked door and ran out onto the ship’s deck. It teemed with sailors.

My feet slapped over the damp planks as I wove through the crew. The sky was a fiery red now and the salt wind whipped at my hot cheeks. Sea mist fell over me like the gentlest rain, sparking over my skin, clinging to the silk of my borrowed gown. I ran straight from the stern of the ship to the bow.

Behind me, Theodore’s voice boomed. “Everyone belowdecks. Now.”

I only heard the clomp of boots as the crew obeyed. The ship captain echoed the king, hurrying the sailors away. But I didn’t watch them go; I bent over the ship’s rail, not taking my burning eyes off the water. Though it frightened me to no end, though I dreaded what sort of monster it might make of me, I preferred its horrific mystery to what Theodore seemed so certain of.

He came up behind me with slow steps. “Lady Imogen…”