Page 127 of The Sun King's Noon

Richard stiffened.

Flint’s head was tipped back, and his eyes were glassy. Kaelen was no better. He had let go of the wheel, and hunger etched his face. Both men had already fished out their earplugs.

“Oh,” Kaelen breathed. “Oh, that is—that is the sweetest?—”

“Kaelen.”

“—the most beautiful voice, Richard, can you not hear it? She is calling. She is calling me?—”

“Me too.” Flint meandered towards the starboard rail. “I must see her face. I must taste her lips.” He let out a low moan. “By the gods, I must touch her skin.”

Kaelen chased after him, and a shiver ran up Richard’s spine.

“Stop.” He lunged for Kaelen’s arm. “Listen to me?—”

With a twist of the wrist, Kaelen peeled Richard’s grip from his sleeve and jolted him aside. By the time Richard recovered his footing, Kaelen had reached the rail.

The song swelled, a harmony now of discordant chords, carrying a desperation and longing so profound that it set Richard’s teeth on edge. He ran to Kaelen and Flint—Kaelen beaming at whatever he saw in the waters, and Flint breathing hard and trying to tear off his vest. On reaching them, Richardseized the backs of their clothes. He looked down, and his eyes widened.

She floated some six feet below, her long red hair fanned out about her, drifting on the currents. Her skin was pearl-white, her breasts bare, and through the clear waters, Richard spotted a tail of emerald scales. As Richard stared, she held out her hand with a smile.

“Oh,” Kaelen moaned at Richard’s shoulder. “Oh, she wants me?—”

“Lovely thing,” Flint crooned. “Lovely, lovely thing. I shall join you, sweetheart?—”

Her smile lengthened, and the song rose another octave, splitting into a chord that pierced through Richard’s eardrums. He yanked Kaelen and Flint back just as their boots hooked over the rail’s lower rung.

They went down in a tangle. Richard hurried to straddle Kaelen and grab his collar.

“Kaelen. Look at me!”

But there was no recognition in Kaelen’s gaze. His pupils had almost entirely swallowed the brown of his eyes. Richard slapped him hard, but Kaelen’s smile did not even flicker.

“She is waiting,” Kaelen said dreamily. “Richard. Richard, she is waiting?—”

“There is nothing waiting but your death, you fool—” Richard slapped him again. “Wake up!”

Kaelen switched their positions in a single roll, slamming Richard onto his back. The breath punched out of Richard, and his skull cracked against the deck, sending sparks of pain through his skull and black spots across his vision. Kaelen’s weight pinned him for a heartbeat, and then, he was rising again, heading to the rail. Flint was already there, a boot upon the lowest rung.

Richard scrambled to his feet, head throbbing.Think. Think!

His panic subsided on spotting the coil of rope nearby.

It would have to do.

CHAPTER 46

Richard cinched the final knot and stepped back, breathing hard.

It’d taken him a while to finish the task, and his arms ached from the hauling. But the result was satisfactory. Once he’d abandoned the foolish notion of breaking the enchantment, the answer’d been simple.

Containment.

Loop the rope tight about the waist, draw it round the mast and pull. Flint had been the easier of the two—he wasn’t as strong and weighed much less. Richard had toppled Flint from the rails and dragged him to the mast before lashing him there.

Kaelen had been a great deal harder. Twice, the knight had nearly gained the rail again, flinging Richard away as effortlessly as if he were a leaf stuck to his clothes. The third time, Richard—heart pounding, head still throbbing from where it had cracked against the deck—yanked down Kaelen’s trousers. They tangled around Kaelen’s legs, making him trip, and he fell face-down onto the planks with a wet crunch. Richard had moved quickly, lugging Kaelen to the mast by his ankle, then binding him with seven loops for good measure.

Now Kaelen sagged against the timber, blood streaming from his nose and his yellow smallclothes stark in the dim light. The man’s pupils were still blown wide, and he strained against the bindings, voice thick with longing.