To Kill a Kingdom(43)
The scouts seem to recognize him. They smile and greet the prince with swift bows before opening the weapons bag Torik slaps onto their station. Though Elian’s knife is covered by his jacket, it’s not completely unnoticeable and he makes no real attempt to hide it.
The scouts approach his crew, albeit warily, and begin to pat the first of them down. They feel their pockets and run their hands over the linings of their clothing, checking for any hidden weaponry. When it comes to Madrid’s turn, she wags her eyebrows mockingly and Kye rolls his eyes.
The scouts continue along the group, passing Elian by. It seems he was right about his so-called immunity. Either Elian’s sway extends far beyond his own Midasan kingdom, or Queen Galina of Eidyllio really does have a weakness for pirates.
A scout approaches me and gestures for me to hold out my arms. He towers over me by at least two heads, with a patchy orange beard that trickles down to his neck. His skin is fish-bone white, a less immaculate version of my own. Or what it once was, before my mother’s curse. I still haven’t seen my new self. I would rather stay blind to how humanity has tarnished a face that once sunk ships.
The scout takes a step closer and I smell stale smoke on his uniform.
“Touch me,” I tell him, “and I will break every one of your fingers.”
His eyes roam over my body, taking note of how the wrinkled white dress clings awkwardly to my sharpened shoulders. He must decide that I don’t pose much of a threat, because he quickly grabs my arms and spreads them out like wings.
I use his disregard to my advantage, confident that even without my strength, I’m still deadly. I may not have my fins, or even my voice, but I am my mother’s daughter. I am the most murderous creature in the hundred kingdoms.
I twist my outstretched arm back underneath the scout’s hands and pull on his wrist, then angle my elbow up and make to crack it across his smug face. When I move, there’s a satisfying thump, but it’s not the sound of bone crunching.
It’s the sound of me being flung to the ground.
The guard has snatched my arm and thrown me with enough force for my elbow to scrape against the gravel. The pain sears across my skin and I feel fury like never before. I could have killed him with one hand if this was the ocean. One song. Yet now I’m cowering as my arm throbs under my weight. How can I expect to take down a trained siren killer when I can’t handle one pitiful guard?
I glare and the scout moves his hand to his hip, half-pulling his sword from his belt. His comrades reach for pistols. I can see the anger in their eyes, as they think about repaying me for trying to attack one of their own. But they don’t draw. Instead they look to the prince.
Elian stares back with an indifferent expression. He’s sitting on the counter of the scout station, one leg hoisted onto the wooden varnish, knee resting in the crook of his elbow. In one hand, he holds an apple the color of rose blossoms.
“So much for a warm welcome,” he says, and hops down from the counter.
The scout wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “She tried to hit me,” he snarls.
Elian takes a bite from the apple. “She also threatened to break your fingers,” he says. “You should grab her again and find out if she was bluffing.”
“I was just trying to search for weapons. We need to check everyone coming into the kingdom. It’s law.”
“Not everyone.” As Elian moves his hand back to his waist, there’s a flash of the knife he never seems to let out of his sight. If the guards didn’t notice it before, they have now. And it’s obvious that’s exactly what Elian wants.
The scout wavers. “She could be hiding a weapon,” he argues, but there’s less conviction in his voice.
“Right.” Elian nods. “So many places she could have stashed it.” He turns to me and holds out his hand. “Give up that crossbow you’ve got under your skirt and they’ll let you off with a slap on the wrist.”
His voice is deadpan and when I only glare in response, Elian turns back to the scout and throws his arms up, like I’m being difficult.
“You’ll just have to throw her in the dungeons,” Kye says, appearing by Elian’s side. I’m not entirely sure if he’s joking. “She’s clearly part of some elite smuggling ring.”
Elian turns to him and gasps, placing a hand to his heart. “Gods,” he says, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if she’s a pirate?”
Kye snorts, and after a moment I realize that I’m smiling too.
I can’t remember the last time I truly laughed. I’ve been so set on pleasing my mother that finding any joy of my own seemed unreasonable. Not that it mattered; I could be the perfect monster and it wouldn’t change a thing. If I disappoint her, I’m a failure. But if I excel, I prove my worth as a ruler and that’s a far greater sin.
I think of what look she’ll have when I present the Second Eye of Keto to her and throw it down like a gauntlet.
The scouts let us pass and when they move aside, the city opens its arms. Nobody takes a second look at me. I blend into the stone, merging with every other face in the market. I’m utterly insignificant for the first time. It’s both freeing and maddening.
“Take a good look,” Elian says. “This could be your new home.”
His hat hangs at his side, hooked onto the handle of his knife. Concealing the weapon and drawing attention to it all the same. He wants to be noticed. He’s incapable of being forgettable.