The Sea Siren

Chapter Nineteen

Vivian

Most of the villagers look as I do this morning.

Pale, still reeling from the inebriation of the night prior.

As I move past the huddled groups muttering through mealtime, a nauseating grilled roast which I will unquestionably pass on, I hear them offering recollections to each other. A great deal don't remember their actions once the drinks settled in, once the exotic substances weaved their way into their nervous systems.

I do not share that luxury.

I remember every bit, every fragment, every hour.

I wish I could forget as they do. Forget his eyes, boring into mine with unhinged desire. His lips, adorning my skin as if he were attempting to sew the unseen parts of me that were broken, together, inch by inch. Most of all, his words—words that continue to torment my ears as I try to erect my walls around so many people, people that expect a certain woman to enter this room.

A captain.

But since the sun rose over the horizon, this captain laid in her tent, staring up at the fabric rippling against the wind, hearing his voice as if it were right beside her ear.

I can't help myself. I need you.

You fit perfectly in my hands.

Don't look away. Look at me. In my eyes.

I had to muster every inch of dignity that still remains in me in order to show face to these people... most importantly Leona, who notices my hair in the crowded gathering room, smiling devilishly slow.

"When we celebrate, we celebrate." She passes me her goblet as I sit with an exhale. "You have the darkest rings around your eyes than anyone else in this room."

"I tossed and turned most of the night."

Just not in the way she would naturally think.

Her eyes, along with everyone else's within earshot, swivel past me, towards the far entrance. Hesitating to turn, knowing only one person on this island can cause that kind of commotion, I daringly tilt my face towards my shoulder, peering back.

Leona blows out a low whistle. "I take that back. His eyes are much darker."

My stomach plummets at first sight of the prince... Antony.

Reminding myself of his title does nothing to alleviate the gravity of my situation.

Marcus has risen from his seat, beckoning him over despite Bastian's irritated look. While Antony has won the hearts of the people here, my crew are unwaveringly distrustful. Freshly showered, evident by his sleek hair, he nods politely, following him. From the table over, Euce springs up, deserting her friends in order to near herself to Vale's youngest prince.

I hardly manage to prepare myself for his scanning eyes to find mine.

The moment they do, I spin back to face Leona, trying to conceal the nauseating feeling building in my throat. I'm not successful.

"You're paling by the minute," Leona observes.

"Remind me to never drink again."

"You hold your liquor fine. When I saw you last, you were sober." She blinks, insufferably reading my face as effortlessly as she does her tea leaves. "You know of my gifts. My proficiency is in matches."

"Nothing happened."

She smiles secretively, unnerving me further but I hold my look of indifference.