Austin stopped talking, rereading the first sentence. Lure and enchant. Seed desire.
“Command is missing,” Austin said, displeased.
“I don’t think that is something other sirens can do,” Tristan said. “I’ve studied the previous monarch’s bloodlineextensively, and you’re the first siren anywhere in that line. You can do far more than what you’ll find in that book.”
Austin accepted that answer and continued reading. The rest of the page listed sirens—five known in the last three hundred years, another five suspected—and gave a brief overview of where their territories had been. The next page began an account of the earliest siren from the last three hundred years.
Austin looked up again. “There’s hardly any.”
“Sirens have always been rare. Nobody really knows what influences whether a merperson is born one,” Tristan explained. “It’s indiscriminate across family lines, north or south, powerful or not. My line has always been exceptionally physically strong, but we have never had a siren. Adonis’s line has always been healers, though one of his ancestors is in that book, born a siren instead.”
“Hm.” Austin returned to the text, reading quietly now. Tristan turned his gaze back to their surroundings, keeping quiet watch. Eli peeked over Austin’s shoulder, declared it unreadable, and left to “find some gossip” for Austin. He mutteredKas, Kas, Kas,as he stalked away. Kas ignored him.
Tristan kept everyone away, leaving Austin to read his book in peace, until Hal approached. Austin purposefully did not look up from his book and let out a soft growl. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hal’s distressed look—and the fire in his eyes—as he whirled on his heel and tracked away. Embarrassment followed quickly. He flicked his gaze up to Tristan, finding a smug, superior look directed at his brother across the room.
Again. Austin had been mean to Halagain.
“I don’t want him to hate me.”
“He doesn’t.”
“But I’m always awful to him.” He hesitated. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”
“He’s a dominant male,” Tristan said. “It’s natural to want him to keep his distance. Particularly if you’re favouring me.”
The easy explanation had Austin folding his book shut.
Tristan’s amusement returned, and his eyes picked out Hal, once more mingling with party guests. “Most try to earn his favour, so it’s quite funny seeing him ignored for a change. Not that it will dissuade him from trying to be close to you. When—if—we mate, then your instinct to warn him off might lessen.”
“If? I thought we were? We’re court, aren’t we? You can feel me?”
“Yes, we are. Though…we haven’t technically met all the requirements,” Tristan said.
“What’s left?”
A somewhat uncomfortable look crossed Tristan’s face. Austin sat up straighter, eyes sharp. “Something you don’t want to do? It’s not sex, then.”
Tristan shifted in place. He met Austin’s eyes, so he didn’t avoid him, but there was a look in his eyes like he wanted to. “I’m not sure I can bring myself to—”
Rusty-red hair snagged Austin’s full attention before he could learn what Tristan didn’t want to do. Walking alone through the main hall doors was the fisherman Sam, a loathsome, horrible boy. Duplicitous. Rotten. Filled with lies and hidden cruelty.
Heat spread across Austin’s cheeks, and bladed power crept to a spot just behind his sternum, where it ballooned, pressing out so hard he swore his ribs creaked. Tristan gently squeezed his hand. Austin ripped it away. Awareness of their touching legs bolted through him, and Austin spared a second to silently snarl at Tristan. The merman calmly slid his legs back, severing all physical contact between them.
Tristan sat rigidly upright as his gaze swept the floor, landing on Sam as he approached them.
Sam smiled nervously at Austin. “Hey.”
“Leave.”
Austin didn’t need to see a single wince to know that his voice hurt. Even Tristan flinched. The floor of dancers turned toward the nearest doors, and everyone still sitting got quickly to their feet, making for the exit. Hal watched his party guests flood out past him, then cast a curious look toward Austin.
Sam remained exactly where he’d been, his smile gone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Leave,” Austin repeated, the word harsher, sharper. Sam didn’t flinch, but Hal, after a disgruntled exhale, followed the rest of his party guests out. The great hall was empty now, save for Austin, Tristan, and Sam.
“I will, I promise,” Sam said in his pleasant Irish accent. “I’m not here to bother you.”
