Daughter of the Pirate King

“WHAT?” I SAY BECAUSE I can’t think of anything else to say.

“I can’t very well expect you to be honest about your abilities, so I’ll have to determine them for myself,” Vordan says. “Together, Alosa, we will identify all the powers sirens possess.”

He doesn’t realize how terrifying I find the prospect. How could he know how much I loathe, and sometimes fear, using my abilities? I hate the way I feel inside and out. I hate the emotional toll they take on me. And then there’s the way I change when I have to replenish my abilities. Vordan will have me demonstrate everything over and over. The thought causes bile to rise in my throat. I swallow it back down.

“I am only partially a siren,” I say in desperation. “What I can and can’t do will not apply to the creatures you will find at the Isla de Canta. I am of no use to you.”

Vordan pulls at the hair on his chin. “That is not true. Even if you are not as powerful as a true siren, your abilities will give me the information I need to prepare for such a venture.”

During our quick exchange, Vordan’s men have been moving. They place their buckets about five feet away from the cage, far out of my reach. They put what looks like a long, hollow, tubelike branch into each bucket.

“To start,” Vordan says, “you will sing for me.”

“Like hell I will.”

Vordan smiles. “And that is why the young first mate is here. Theris, show Alosa what will happen each time she refuses me.”

Theris pulls out his cutlass and rakes it across Riden’s upper arm, cutting through his shirt and sending blood streaming downward.

Riden winces, but other than that he shows no sign of pain. Instead, he laughs, applying pressure to the fresh wound. “You’re all fools if you think the princess cares whether I live or die.”

Theris snorts. “You’re wrong, Riden. Alosa lives by her own rules. She has a strong tendency toward vengeance. She can’t stand to see those who have wronged her walk away unscathed. Draxen kidnapped her, he beat her, he humiliated her, he tried to take her body. She loathes him. Yet he’s alive. Do you know why?”

Riden looks at me. I quickly turn my gaze downward.

“If she didn’t care about your pain, she would have killed him. Slowly and agonizingly. The fact that he lives proves there is at least one thing she cares about more than her own justice. You.”

That’s not true. I … I owed Riden. He let me keep my dagger when he should have taken it from me. I settle my debts. He helped me stay safe, so I didn’t kill his brother. It was no more than that.

I’m certain of it.…

Wait—my dagger!

From my seated position, I wrap my arms around my ankles, as though I’m trying to comfort myself. I pat my boot.

Except for my foot, it is empty.

“Looking for this?” asks Theris, pulling the weapon from his belt, where I hadn’t noticed it before.

I try to appear as though this doesn’t trouble me at all. In reality, I’m outraged. Not only did Theris take away my only hope of escape, but I’m rather attached to that dagger.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Vordan says, pulling my attention away from Theris. “I will tell you what to do, and you will do it. If there is any hesitation or deviance from my words, Riden will sustain another injury. Attempt to use your abilities to escape, and we’ll kill him and bring you someone else to enchant. Is that understood?”

I send Vordan a murderous glare. “When I get out of this cage, the first thing I’m going to do is kill you.”

Without even waiting for a signal from Vordan, Theris stabs Riden in his forearm.

My eyes widen as I hold in a gasp.

“I said, ‘Is that understood?’”

Though it’s against my nature—whether that be my human or siren one—I swallow my pride. “Yes.”

“Good. Niffon, Cromis—the wax.”

Vordan’s men hand him and Theris two wads of yellow-orange wax. Then they each pull out a pair for themselves. Each man inserts the substance into his ears.

So clever, Vordan. You think yourself invincible. I will find a way out of this. I always do. It’s only a matter of time. But I wish the fear penetrating through every limb in my body had the same confidence.

I’m not even attempting to hide the fury on my face when Vordan points to the buckets. His underlings each grab one of the thin branches and stick it into their bucket.

“Hold out your hands, Alosa,” Vordan says a little too loudly.

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.NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

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.

Instantly, his tense arm and leg relax, no longer feeling the cruel slices or the deep gash near his wrist. Then I tear a strip of cloth from the bottom of my blouse and throw it at Riden.

Vordan’s men stand, prepared to intervene should I be attempting to make Riden flee or free me. I should be flattered that they think I can manage something with naught but a strip of cloth.

But it is for Riden’s arm. I weave a few more notes into the song, making Riden tie up his severest wound to stanch the bleeding. I wish I could heal it for him, but my abilities are limited. I can only alter the mind, where I’ve discovered pain truly comes from. I can ease Riden’s suffering temporarily, but nothing more.

I have only a few notes left, so I try to give Vordan what he wants. Riden stands up straight. His eyes don’t glaze over or anything. He looks perfectly normal, as though his actions are his own. But they’re not. He does nothing more or less than what I tell him through song. Riden moves through a couple of combat moves. I make him kick and punch at invisible foes. He jumps through the air, dodging and striking his opponents. Finally, he sheathes an imaginary sword.

I release him from my spell once my powers are drained. Then I sit on the floor of the cage.

Riden blinks. He looks around in confusion until he sees me and everything comes back to him. I did not take away his memories of the song, so he knows exactly what I made him do. He inhales a quick breath. The pain from his injuries comes back to him. I cannot keep the pain away once I stop singing. It was only a temporary relief, but I gave him what I could. It’s my fault he’s here in the first place.

Well, actually it’s Theris’s, but I can’t expect Riden to see it that way.

Vordan steps closer to the cage, peering at me intently. “Your eyes truly are the window to your soul, Alosa,” he says loudly in an attempt to compensate for the wax in his ears. “In less than a minute, they’ve turned from green to blue to green again. Such a handy tool to tell when you have the power of your song and when you do not.”

Damn.

I hoped they wouldn’t be able to tell when I was out. They’re observing me too closely. I won’t have any secrets left by the end of this.

“But back to the task at hand. I think you can do better than that, Alosa,” Vordan says in an encouraging voice that makes me even sicker to my stomach. “Try again.” He points a finger at the other pirate in front of me.

This time Cromis stoppers his branch with his thumb before raising it over my arms, which hang limply outside the cage.

This is an act. I want them to think that using my powers weakens me momentarily. Might help me get the drop on them later.

I pull the water into myself as it falls. I feel it running through me, rushing into all my limbs. Doubt becomes certainty. Weaknesses become strengths. Fear becomes resolve. These men don’t know who they’re dealing with. I am power and strength. I am death and destruction. I am not someone to be trifled with. They are beneath my notice. I shall—

“Alosa.” Riden’s voice cuts through my alarming thoughts. Does he notice how the siren tries to take me? Or is he merely urging me along because he’s scared of what Theris will do if I don’t immediately obey?

Whatever the case, I’m grateful he seems to have the ability to bring me back to myself. And quickly.

“Alosa, you don’t have to do this,” he continues. Again, he’s turned away from Vordan and his men, so they can’t possibly tell that Riden is speaking to me. “It’s all right. Ignore them. Focus on getting yourself out of this. You’re good at escaping. So do it.”

I smile at him despite the situation.

“Each time I escaped, it was because I planned ahead. I didn’t plan this capture.” I hope Vordan will assume my moving mouth is the beginning of my song. To keep the illusion, I blur the last word into a note and start a new song.

To me, the melody sounds fast-paced, exciting, thrilling. It always seems to match my intention. For this time, I run Riden through an impressive display of flexibility and dexterity. I make him do somersaults in the air. He runs up trees and flips off of them backward. I make him run faster than should be possible with his injuries. He performs stunts I’m sure he can’t do on his own, for as long as I know how to do them, he will be able to as well.

When I drain myself of notes, I sink to the bottom of the cage once more.

Vordan takes the wax out of his ears. His men, taking his lead, do the same.

“Much better, Alosa.” Vordan now has a piece of parchment and a stick of charcoal in his hands. It doesn’t matter that the wax is gone now; my abilities are gone, too.

“Let’s start breaking down the extent of your abilities.” Vordan begins writing with his charcoal. “If I’m not mistaken, you essentially have three abilities. The first is your song. You can enchant men to do essentially anything, so long as it doesn’t defy the laws of nature. For instance, you cannot make Riden fly. How many men can you enchant at a time, Alosa?”

I hesitate. Should I lie or tell the truth?

Riden gasps in front of me. Theris pulls back a bloody sword.

“Three!” I shout. “For stars’ sake, let me think a moment, would you?”

“There’s nothing to think about. Answer, and no harm will come to Riden. Now, you replenish your song with water from the ocean. And the ocean water only goes so far. You couldn’t make Riden do very much with the amount Cromis gave you. I’m sure the complexity of the instruction will determine how much water is necessary.”

And each man’s mind is different. That affects the amount, too, but I’m not going to bother mentioning that. Riden’s mind is much more steadfast and firm than I’m used to seeing. Enchanting him takes more out of me than most men would normally.

After a moment’s pause, Vordan looks over his notes. “Splendid. Now, the power of your song affects the mind. But to what extent? Theris has seen you make men forget. When you enchanted poor Riden here the first time, he didn’t remember the experience. Theris has also seen you put Riden to sleep. I’m sure you could easily make a man kill himself. But could you give him a different reality?”

“Yes,” I say quickly, not wanting to risk any hesitation.

“Show me.” He puts the wax back in his ears. His men follow suit, and a fresh flow of water is lowered down to me.

I look to Riden as I take it in. For some reason, looking at him allows me to keep a clear head as I feel the water’s strength flow into me, something I’ve never experienced before when replenishing my abilities.

“I hate playing the puppet,” I say. “Do you have any ideas?”

“If anyone’s the puppet, it’s me,” he says agitatedly. “You’re the puppeteer.”

I look at him in annoyance.

“I’m working on one,” he says to answer my question. “Keep taking orders until I can get it all sorted out.”

I don’t allow myself to hope as I start singing, closing my eyes and picturing what I want Riden to see. I imagine a magical world full of new colors and sounds. Butterflies with brightly lit wings flutter around me. Shooting stars pelt across the purple sky overhead in rapid succession. A nearby body of water sends sprays of droplets flying into the air at impossible heights. Birds larger than whales soar overhead, featuring feathers in reds and blues. I put together the first random elements that come to me, adding more and more details until I’m satisfied. Then I open my eyes.

Riden bears a look of sheer wonder and astonishment. He reaches out in front of himself as if to touch the invisible creatures I’ve placed in front of him.

“Beautiful,” he says.

“Alosa,” Vordan says. “Project that image onto Theris as well.”

I see now that Theris has handed his pistol to Vordan. He removes the wax from his ears and places it into his pocket. I quickly expand the song to encompass him also, relieved now that Theris is unable to hurt Riden. He, too, is soon amazed by everything around him. He spins, trying to see every bit of the magical world I’m showing him.

My mind reels as I try to think of something I could do now that I have one of Vordan’s men under my influence. With Riden and Theris, the fight would be two against three. But I haven’t enough song left after my projected world to make Riden and Theris do anything substantial. Vordan is so very careful not to give me any scrap of power over him.

But I wonder why he’d bother having me enchant one of his men at all. If he’s so curious about my abilities, then why not offer himself up?

“Excellent,” Vordan says, scratching his charcoal quickly over the parchment. “Now release Theris.”

I do. Theris instantly looks all around him, adjusting to reality, then replaces the wax in his ears. Vordan returns his pistol to him.

“Now show me something really impressive,” Vordan says.

I look from Theris to Vordan, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Make Riden see something horrible. Make him feel pain that isn’t really there. Show me how men are at your mercy.”

Cromis releases another rush of water, and I barely catch it in time.

I feel as though icy needles puncture my stomach. He can’t expect me to …

I stop singing as the water seeps into my skin. Riden is released from the fake reality I’ve given him. I feel my mind drifting away from me.

These men are all dead. Once I get my full strength, I will reduce them to shreds of flesh. I imagine the way my body will change. The strength I will have. I see myself pulling all five of them down to the ocean’s floor, watching their eyes as the life drifts out. Feeling their bodies squirm until they’re caught into oblivion.…

“Alosa!”

It’s as if I’ve woken from a deep sleep, though my eyes have been open the whole time. I’ve drifted off to my own alternate reality. My alternate self.

“It’s okay, Alosa. Come back to me,” Riden says.

I turn my gaze to him.

“Whatever it is they’ve told you to do, do it.” He won’t have heard the order, not when he was caught up in another world. “We’ll get through this. Just keep going.”

I can’t. What does it matter if I let them cut Riden because I hesitate? Either way, he’ll be hurting.

But the pain won’t be real if you sing to him, I try to tell myself. He’ll hurt for a moment and then it will be over. You can’t falter, or he will truly be hurting from another sword injury. Just do it quickly.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.

Instantly, Riden screams. He writhes on the ground in pain as imaginary hot pokers drive into his skin.

I hate myself. I hate my abilities. This is not how my powers were meant to be used. I am despicable, lowly, unforgivable.

I end Riden’s suffering as soon as I dare, hoping it was long enough for Vordan. I relinquish the leftover song into the air, disposing of it quickly. I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want anything to do with it. Get it away from me.

The sick bastard laughs. “Well done.” Vordan writes some more on his parchment. I wish I could drive real pokers into his flesh.

“I’m satisfied with your singing abilities for today,” Vordan says, freeing his ears from the wax. “Let’s talk about your second set of abilities. If Theris overheard you correctly, you can read a person’s emotions, but this ability does not require nourishment from the sea. It is something you innately possess.”

Riden gasps on the ground, trying to recover from the imaginary pain. I watch him rub his hands over his skin, convincing himself it wasn’t real.

“Alosa,” Vordan snaps, pulling my attention from Riden. Theris steps forward and kicks Riden in the face. Blood trickles out of his nose, staining the sand red. In a way, I’m relieved that Theris kicked him so hard. Riden is now unconscious and can’t feel any pain.

“Yes,” I answer. “I can know what people are feeling, if I choose to.”

“And you don’t have to sing?”

“No.”

“Excellent.” More scratching on the parchment. “Tell me what each of my men is feeling.”

I’ve used this one plenty of times today already. I can’t risk using it much more, or I’ll lose myself. The last thing I need is to forget who I am when I’m in such a life-threatening situation. The exposure to the sea’s power almost claimed me several times already. And Riden’s not awake to pull me back again.

I’ll try to rush it. Then shut it off.

I admire the complexities of emotions. They’re paintings for me to see. I just have to suffer through the otherworldliness in order to see them. As the sickly sensation rushes over my skin, I look quickly at each of Vordan’s men. “That one is hungry,” I say pointing to Niffon. “That one is bored.” That’s Cromis. “He is excited—no, happy about something.” That’s Theris. “And you are…” Vordan’s is a bit more complicated. “Content,” I finish.

Vordan looks to each of his men in turn, who nod, showing I’m right.

“Bored, are you, Cromis?” Theris asks. “Perhaps we should reassign you to kitchen duty.”

Cromis looks determinedly at me, his mission. “I am fine, C— Theris.”

Theris purses his lips for a moment, but his face returns to normal quickly thereafter.

Interesting falter, though I shouldn’t be surprised that Theris gave me a false name. Frankly, I don’t care what his real name is. His name will cease to matter once I am free and he is dead.

“Shut up,” Vordan hisses at his men. His eyes are on his parchment until he looks up at me. “We’ll toy around with that one some more tomorrow. Let’s hurry on to your third and last ability, Alosa. Tell me, what would you call this power? I’ve had a hard time coming up with a concise name for it.”

I think for a moment.

“Riden may be unconscious, but I can still have Theris hurt him. So speak up.”

I glare at Vordan’s despicable form. “I can become any man’s idea of a perfect woman.”

“Essentially you’re a seductress. Can’t expect anything less from a woman, can we?”

If I hadn’t already marked him for death, he would definitely have a black mark on him now. Through clenched teeth, I say, “I can become whatever I need to be to get a man to do what I want him to.”

“You’re a manipulator. I imagine this ability goes well with the emotion reading. Couple those two with your song, and you truly are a formidable creature—a master over all men. Now, I’m assuming this ability only works on one man at a time?”

“Depends. Many men are attracted to the same things. I can only discern one man’s perfect woman at a time, but if those characteristics are liked by many in the vicinity—”

“Then you could affect them all.”

“Yes.”

“Give me a demonstration. I want you to use this on each of my men.”

Of all my abilities, this is the one my father found least useful. He didn’t test it out like he did the other two. I had to experiment with it on my own. I haven’t yet found any consequences for using it. Aside from feeling like a complete strumpet when I’m done. But I’m not above using it to get what I want. Though I usually prefer to have some song left to erase the memory from my victims afterward.

But by the end of today, it seems I will have lost my sense of safety, my secrecy, and my dignity.