The Siren's Song
Summary: See Siren's Song Masterlist
Chapter II: Washed Up
Rhys
The harbor didn’t get many newcomers. Despite their souvenir booths, they weren’t the place to find the pretty buildings and history lessons. Aside from their previous bloody conflict with the sirens, there wasn’t much to Hewn Harbor’s past. They were pirates, fishermen, and known families claiming the housing around the port.
The business and trade was a matter of what their fathers’ fathers had put together. He knew the citizens, he knew the traders, and and he hadn’t once seen the young woman the sailors were cornering before today. And that made her interesting. Suspicious, of course, especially considering the obviously fake name. But interesting.
“What’s that look for?” his brother asked the second Rhys entered their shared home.
Az always knew when something was going on. “I ran across a new face today. A young woman. About twenty, I’d say. Quite lovely. I’ve never seen her, but I suppose a friend of ours could have dragged some cousin or sister along.”
“Not that I’ve heard of,” Az said, looking over at Cassian for a response. “I can dig,” he continued. “If you think she’s trouble.”
“Trouble, not yet. Just interesting to find out here.” Accepting the bourbon Cassian offered, I sank into a chair, scanning the rest of the house. “Mor and Amren?”
“Mor is upstairs,” Azriel said. “Amren hurried out a few moments ago. You know how she is about making her own little nest when we’re docked.”
“Indeed,” Rhys murmured, stretching one leg to help the twinge in the knee he'd injured flying overboard as a boy of eleven. The hard metal and wood of the fractured ship his father ordered ruined had made for a hard landing and miserable recovery. Every rising storm stirred that memory. “Whose turn to cook?” They exchanged a look, then turned back to Rhys. We all hated that particular duty. No volunteers to take his turn, then. And Mor and Amren were hopeless beyond boiling water. “Fine.”
“How long are we staying docked, Rhys?”
He shrugged at Cassian’s question. Though we had no breathing family left, most of the crew did. “Another day or two. We’ve already been here for over a week.” Home turf or not, Rhys never liked staying docked long. His soul ached for the sea and stars. “Don’t promise your conquests anything.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough.”
~~~~~
He didn’t know what it was about the storm that brought him out, despite that bad knee. Maybe it was the natural call of the waves he was raised on. Maybe it was something else. But the pull was stronger than ever tonight. He walked beyond the port, letting cool, damp sand sink between his toes as he watched high tide roll in.
A full moon shone above him, blotting out most of the stars in its vicinity. Here, when the sky went dark and the moon and stars rose, away from the chaos of the main port was home. Here he could be alone with his thoughts, enjoying the silence of the beach stretching out of sight.
But tonight, though the beach was silent, it wasn’t empty. Not with an unconscious woman sprawled at the edge of the shore, her face dangerously close to the evening tide rising and falling.
Stepping closer…
It was the woman he'd met this afternoon, spending all night wondering about. Like she had some magic to command his endless attention. And as he tugged her suspiciously dry skirt down to cover her exposed legs, he found that might just be the case. Her skin was still damp, leaving a patchwork of navy sand-crusted scales over her thighs, shins, and calves.
She was a siren.
And she was a long way from Adriata.
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AN: Short, I know.
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