“I have not.” Smitter took a swig of his own drink, then rotated to face me. “King Adonis from the Isle of Sottom sent word. He’s dispatched a battleship to Anthemusa in search of the Siren Queen’s lair. It left one moon ago and should have returned already. We are awaiting news.”

“News of a massacre no doubt,” Lou said, her voice low.

Sottom was a kingdom of warriors, killers who saw no use to pretend otherwise, but they were not weaponized to face the Siren Queen, nor did they know how to infiltrate her ivory tower, but even more importantly, none possessed the power to kill her. Hundreds of sirens, known as the Queen’s Guard, swam the coasts, protecting the perimeter. The waters vibrated with the sound of their song. Sottom’s soldiers would never get through their defenses. Hell, none of the ships I commanded could. It was how we failed time and time again.

“Why would they even try to go that far north? It’s a suicide mission,” Lou added.

“People have lost everything. They are losing hope,” the King answered. “They are desperate, and Sottom’s populace comprises of natural mercenaries led by a warmongering king. They don’t frighten easily. Dying for their kingdom is a privilege to them.”

“Why can’t you just tell the sirens to be nice?” Savina asked. She reached across the table for a slice of dried apricot and popped it into her mouth.

Both my head and King Delphi’s whipped toward Savina, but it was Lou who said, “Sirens can’t speak to humans.” Her eyes softened. “They can only communicate with each other.”

Savina’s nose twitched, and my gut plummeted. Stopping her would only declare my guilt.

Savina swallowed. “That’s not true. Rye can talk to them,” she said, looking to me for confirmation.

King Delphi’s eyes narrowed on me as I sunk into my chair, wishing my bedtime stories had been just stories. The king’s hand covered his daughter’s. “Savina, darling,” he cooed in the way of adults to naïve children, “Rylander was just telling you entertaining tales before bed. They are not real. Right, Rylander?”

I nodded, unable to lie aloud to Little Rose.

“Savina, you are a lady of this court. Too old to believe in silly bedtime tales,” Queen Olivine reprimanded. She finished the contents of her glass and waved down a servant for a refill.

Savina’s gaze flitted to her mother, then back to me. “But what about Queen—”

“Enough, Savina.” The king’s sharp tone sliced across her words. He turned to me. “Please be more mindful of your anecdotes, Captain Rylander. Children are very impressionable.” In truth, a reminder to use more discretion.

I bowed my head. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“But I thought…”