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Dad doesn’t budge, doesn’t crash down. In fact, he leans on his weapon and straightens his back. “That’s lovely, and I couldn’t be more pleased with your song choice.”
More thunks sound in the background.
I struggle to keep singing. He’s trying to distract me, but I’m not going to let it work.
Feminine shrieks and cries sound as the mermen continue crashing down, losing consciousness—like my dad should be doing. But he isn’t.
Why not?
My mind races as I start the song over. A thought strikes me—whenever I sang, those with me never passed out.
Dad must be too close to me for this to work. I inch away from him, belting out the lyrics as loudly as possible. He doesn’t move, and I finally stop when half the arena separates us.
He rushes toward me, his trident aimed right for me. I hold up mine and block it, forced to stop my song. I grunt and push against him. “Why aren’t you passing out?”
“I noticed the missing wine from our room, and when your mother knew nothing about it, I put two and two together—you wanted to use your siren powers on me to keep from having to kill me.”
I struggle against him. “How did you figure that out?”
“You’re my daughter.” He presses his bar harder against me. “I know how you think.”
“But how’d you keep from succumbing to the song?”
“Magic.”
“Of course.” Disappointment washes through me. My perfectly laid out plan isn’t going to work.
Or will it? I have to keep trying.
I’m not going to kill him. I’ll find another way around the stomach pains and ancient legends.
Dad comes at me, swinging his trident. “You need to do this.”
“No.”
He thrusts it at me, and I duck out of the way. He strikes again, this time brushing one of the spikes against my stitches. Blinding pain paralyzes me momentarily. Once I recover, I see the tips of his weapon aiming straight for my chest. I move my trident to divert his attack.
My dad is trying to force me to fulfill Sirena’s dad curse, even if it happens through self-defense.
He’s going to be sorely disappointed.
We dart around the arena, him attacking and me deflecting. He moves so quickly, it’s almost surreal. I can barely keep up. I gasp for water. Focus my attention on protecting myself without inflicting the slightest injury upon him.
Dad stabs at me from the right. I whip my trident around to intercept.
Move to the left and surprise him. He won’t see it coming.
“I’m not going to kill him.”
His people are ready to revive him. They’ve done it before.
“Doesn’t mean they can do it again.”
My dad darts back and forth, swinging this way and that. His weapon heads straight for my neck. I hold out my trident to prevent myself from being impaled.
Instead of countering my move, he throws himself into the points.
I stare in disbelief. Shock.
