Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

31 | The Remnants of Uncertainty

"Aren't you sore?" he asked. "Recovering?"

She hefted herself up over a loose spot. "No."

He sighed again, trying to pay attention. He was sore, but he wasn't even sure what from. He reached for the roof sill, pulling himself up over the lip a few seconds after her. He got his bearings on the roof, then looked at her. Would she push him? What was the point of this?

She settled down, raising her knees to her chin. She pointed behind him.

He spun as he sat next to her, snow still falling around them. He followed her finger, squinting. There, out in the distance, was a string of lights. In the middle, a circle of spires reached for the sky, sharp tips raised to the cloudless night. It was dazzling, stunning beyond words.

"The Kingsland," he breathed.

"I used to take the new members here to see it before they sailed into it for the first time." She tilted her head a little, thinking. "The extravagance, the lights—it can get into your head, have you wish for things you never thought you'd want. It's best to see the whole picture first."

And it was quite the picture. Those beautiful lights, the spires, the royalty coming off that place in waves sitting so close to this dying port, with its peeling buildings and overgrown streets. The whole picture.

He stared. It was far away still, but he felt like he could see it all right there in his heart. He felt like he could see the King, sitting on his golden throne with a crown atop his head, awaiting his fate.

He leaned back on his hands, keeping his gaze out there on those lights. "I figured it out," he said.

"Give me more than that, love," she said. "I can't read your mind."

He let out a deep breath. It didn't feel that way to him, of course. It felt like she could read all his thoughts, she every little desire he'd ever had. "You," he said. "What happened to you. I figured it out."

She glanced over at him, snow collecting in her hair, settling on her lashes. She didn't call his bluff or tell him he probably got it wrong. She just leaned back on her elbows, eyes firm on him, ready to listen.

He leaned back, too, watching the stars instead of her. "Sirens are ruthless by nature, but their queen keeps them in check. They're only supposed to take what they need, nothing more," he said. "Your mother, though—she didn't like to be mild, so she led a rebellion."

He watched the stars twinkle, watched the snow fall. "When she lost, she was banished for her actions. Her tail was stripped of her, as was her powers and the ability to pass them down to you. She took the other banished members of her failed uprising and formed a little army on Canale, but that never got her anywhere; it wasn't enough."

He looked back at the Kingsland, standing tall while the rest of the ocean slipped under the poverty line. "So she sought out the King, somehow. I don't think they fell in love, but if she was anything like you, he wasn't hard to seduce. Hence, you."

Next to him, Silta tilted her head a little and said, "She had this way of getting in and out of the Kingsland by swimming under those spires rather than trying to get over or through. It takes some practice, some breath control, but it works if you know to do it."

Something deep in his gut twisted as if it knew something he didn't. Instead of listening to it, he kept going with his story, "She told the King that she was pregnant, thinking it would give her access to the throne, but he didn't approve. He married some aristocrat that was good for the bloodline, and in a few years, they'll have a proper heir—Kerian—not some risky half-Siren. He ordered your mother to get rid of you."