Siren Song

distance, the Pacific. There were curtains, but I got the impression they were seldom closed. I would’ve had to close them. The view would’ve been too distracting. I’d never get anything done.

Now, however, I was having no trouble focusing at all. Because the queen and I were having issues. “I understand, Your Majesty.” I kept my eyes down, my voice even. “But the jet had been inspected, thoroughly inspected, by your people and mine just minutes before. The only way someone could’ve planted that bomb was by teleporting.”

“There are others with that capability.”

And thank God for that, I thought. But I didn’t say it. Gran would be so proud. She’s been working with me on not mouthing off since prepuberty. Of course I was dealing with a telepath, so Queen Lopaka probably heard me anyway. Maybe she’d appreciate the effort.

“You believe that Eirene is the siren involved in Kristoff’s coup.”

Hell, yes! Her mother, too. And we only have one chance to defeat them. I kept my lips zipped, but I thought it loud. Gulls began to swoop outside the window as I got more agitated.

The queen paused, glaring at me. I had told her my suspicions about Ren and Stefania before. When the evidence was circumstantial, she’d been willing to take the steps of switching landing sites “just in case.” Yet now that we knew we were betrayed she was reluctant, not wanting to risk any of her people on what she considered a bad bet—even if she might secure a strong European alliance and flush out a pair of dangerous and highly placed traitors.

Creede, Adriana, and I were arguing in favor of Plan B: acting as though everyone on board had died and hiding us out of sight until Kristoff’s press conference, then having Okalani teleport us into the middle of it.

It was bold. It was crazy. And it just might work. If the queen would let us do it.

Adriana spoke up. “Your Majesty . . . Mother. If our enemies believe they’ve succeeded, they’ll let their guard down. If we are going to attempt to help King Dahlmar, this could be a priceless advantage. I’ve seen an eighty-five percent chance of success with this new plan.”

“And if we’re wrong? If they are innocent?”

I thought—but quietly—You have got to be kidding me! She couldn’t be that deep in denial. What did I have to do to make her believe me? Show her the memories?

Yes. Adriana answered my thought.

Well, shit. Of course. Who could do the deed? Pili was down for the count.

Adriana answered me. I guessed she was projecting to both of us at once given the look in Queen Lopaka’s eyes. Nifty.

I can do it. I might not be strong enough to take you through all of your memories, but we know what to look for now, know when it happened. If I show you, Mother, if you can see this for yourself, will you give King Dahlmar the aid he seeks?

Queen Lopaka let out a frustrated breath and slammed a fist down on the desk, eyes flashing. She looked just like . . . me in that moment. Why is this so important to you, Adriana? Why do you press so?

Adriana let out a low noise that was like a refined growl. Her eyes glinted with righteous anger. She cursed children, Mother. She brought demons onto the soil of our island. This cannot be allowed to stand. If in helping ourselves we can help an ally as well, then it is well and good.

Queen Lopaka stared into her daughter’s eyes for a long moment. When she finally answered, it was as if she’d aged a decade before my eyes. “Show me.”

It took very little time. We knew the memory we needed, so there was no searching, no spooling through my life and the damage the curse had inflicted. Adriana simply took my memories and played them out as an image above the tropical fish tank against the wall.

Queen Lopaka sat, silent and still, for a long moment after the scene had played out. Neither Adriana nor I dared move.

When the queen finally spoke, it was in an intense whisper. “It’s her. I recognize her, even without seeing her face. I knew she was desperate for Eirene to rule, knew she was capable of much to achieve it. But cursing our own children? Such evil—” She shook her head and a single tear trickled down her perfect cheek. “Dear Goddess. Stefania . . . why?”

I didn’t know what to say in the face of her obvious pain. I’d expected her to be angry. God knows I was. Then again, for me it was personal.

She wiped the tear away with an impatient gesture and turned to me. “Do what you will. You have my support.”

I gave a low bow and started toward the door. I’d barely gone three steps when her voice stopped me. I turned back to see an expression on the queen’s face that I’d seen in the mirror more than once. Contrite, pained. “I’m sorry, Celia. I should’ve believed you. Know that I would’ve protected you had I known.”

There was nothing to do but shrug. “You didn’t know.”

“But I should have.” Something in her voice told me that this failure would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Just like me.

They put us in a large conference room with attached restrooms. Everyone who had been on the plane was there, along with a couple dozen more of the queen’s Elite Guard—a special-forces unit that worked together like a well-oiled machine. Creede is one hell of a mage. His concentration and attention to detail were impressive. He, the guards, and the mage squad formed a force to be reckoned with. The minute we were all behind closed doors, the mages set up a magical perimeter so tight that even Okalani couldn’t have teleported through it. Nothing was going to break that barrier: not sound or sight and certainly no magic. The power of it burned across my senses when I tried to test it, and the air in the room felt thick enough to drink. My ears actually popped two or three times, adjusting.

I wasn’t part of the military end of things. The queen had given her orders; General Carson and his staff were calculating the best means of carrying them out. They went through the plan minute-by-minute, covering contingencies that might arise and what the response would be. The loss of the plane, despite their precautions, hadn’t shaken them as much as made them angry and even more determined to succeed. Before, they had been content with implying that the civilians should stay back. Such subtlety had been abandoned now, with Thompson taking Creede and me aside and bluntly telling us to “stay the fuck out of our way.” They didn’t like that we were being brought along. But Okalani was our transport and King Dahlmar had insisted that Creede and I be his personal bodyguards.

The clairvoyant was starting to display the image of the press conference on a wall of the conference room when I felt a massive blow hit the shield. It had a pinpoint focus and two of the mages responsible for the protections nearest the doors fell in their tracks, eyes rolling back in their heads. A third staggered, only keeping himself upright by force of will—and because he had a table to lean on.

No one knew what was happening. Medics rushed to aid the fallen. Creede looked grim and rushed toward the door with me at his heels.

A second blow, followed by a sensation like maggots crawling across my skin. I smelled sulfur, tasted bile. I started swallowing convulsively to keep the contents of my stomach in my stomach.

Someone out there meant business. With the shields crumbling I could hear the sound of fighting in the hall. Gunshots, boomers, and screams of pain were all clear to me.

“What is it?” Okalani stared at me wide-eyed.

“Get to the other side of the room, now!” I ordered as I pulled the 9mm I’d been given to replace my trusty Colt.

“It’s going to fall,” Creede announced. “I can feel it.”

“Carson, you hear that?”

“Civilians to the far side.” He barked out other orders and his people moved into place with crisp efficiency.

Okalani ran to the far side of the room to join Princess Adriana, King Dahlmar, and most of the others.

Carson sidled up beside me, weapon at the ready. “You do realize that you’re technically a civilian,” he said