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No. I won’t do it. I can’t. I won’t be subjected to this. Not again. My mind flashes back to being in my father’s dungeon.
Manacles clamp around my wrists, chaining me to the wall. My ankles, likewise, are immobilized, clinking as chains prevent me from stepping more than a foot away from the stone wall.
“Relax,” Father says before splashing a bucket of water into my face.
I choke and sputter as the water drips around me.
“Take it in, Alosa. Now, let’s see how we can make you even more powerful.…”
I’m brought back to the present by a loud grunt. Riden has his right hand clutched around his arm. Blood squeezes its way out of a new cut, past his tense fingers.
“Hold out your hands!” Vordan demands, this time shouting.
Your memories are just memories,I tell myself.Father made you strong. He helped you learn everything you can do. If you survived the pirate king’s pressure and scrutiny, you can certainly take it from any other pathetic, mindless, slimy eel of a man.
My self-encouragement passes through me in less than a second. So before Theris can damage Riden further, I do as Vordan says. I won’t look at Riden. What does my obedience mean for me? What does it mean to Riden?
Niffon and Cromis kneel side by side in front of their buckets. Niffon plugs the end of his hollow branch, lifts it out of the bucket, and hoists it high into the air in front of me.
Vordan has thought of everything, it seems.
If only Niffon would lower the branch an extra foot, I could reach it. A simple underestimation on their part would be extremely helpful to me right now. But no. Theris has seen what I can do with limited resources. He won’t even allow me to get my hands on a stick.
I’m caught with anticipation and dread as I wait for what will happen next. Niffon removes his thumb from his end of the branch. The ocean water caught inside now falls into my waiting hands.
I let the water slip through my fingers and fall to the ground, but I hope it looks like I absorbed some of it. It’s my hope that I can fake my way through this. I can’t actually replenish my abilities. Not like this.
But Vordan will have none of that. He shakes his head in displeasure. Theris drags his sword against Riden’s skin again. This time near his calf.
“Do not let the water build up on the ground,” Vordan says. “Take it all in.”
He’s worried I’ll preserve the water until there’s enough for me to do something truly dangerous with it. So long as Vordan and his cronies have wax in their ears, it doesn’t matter how much water I have at my disposal.
But I don’t point this out. I haven’t any time to waste if I’m to avoid causing Riden any more pain. So when Niffon allows more water to drop, I catch it all and absorb it instantly. Nothing escapes me, and my hands dry immediately.
The change is instant. The soothing water becomes part of me. It fills the emptiness that I’ve felt for the last couple of weeks, replenishing my song, strengthening my confidence, easing my fear. I want to feel that comfort everywhere at once. I want to jump into the ocean and swim for the deepest, blackest space so the comfort will never leave me.
For a moment, all I can think about is the ocean. I have no cares except to return to her. Nothing else matters.
“Alosa.” It’s Riden’s voice cutting through my longing thoughts. I try to rein in the desires of the siren. This is why I cannot replenish my song unless I can take the time to get my bearings. For using the ocean to nourish me opens me to a siren’s instinct. And a siren’s instinct is not to care about anything except herself, her sisters, and the ocean.
This man is nothing to me. What do I care if they kill him? He does not matter. I matter.
“Alosa,” Riden repeats.
I narrow my gaze in his direction, attempting to focus my thoughts.Don’t become some soulless creature. You are a woman. Think of your crew, your friends, your family. Remember the time you stole a ship and made it yours. Remember how it feels to be a captain, to have earned the respect and gratitude of your crew. Think of the pride in your father’s eyes when you please him.
Think of Riden. Remember when you had fun fighting him, sword against sword? Remember the taunts and jabs. Remember the dagger. Remember his kisses. Think of Riden, who doesn’t deserve to die all because you can’t control yourself!
That does it. I return my gaze to Vordan, awaiting instructions.
“Sing to him, Alosa. Impress me.”
Vordan no doubt wants to see Riden dance and perform other ridiculous stunts. Under other circumstances, I think it would be funny to make Riden humiliate himself. But not now. Not to satisfy a man who has put me in a cage. Riden is no monkey, and I am no slave.
I look at Riden. He doesn’t look afraid exactly, just uneasy. “Go ahead,” he finally says. Since Riden faces me and the men have wax in their ears, they can’t tell he’s speaking to me. “We’ll get out of this eventually. Do what you need to in the meantime.”
Vordan watches me carefully, so I don’t risk nodding at Riden. Instead, I begin. I start with something simple and undetectable. My lips open ever so slightly as I sing a soothing, slow melody. The notes do not matter. It is the intention behind them that gives the song power. It’s what makes Riden do what I want. And what I want right now is to take away his pain.
