Of Song and Scepter (SIRENS OF ADRIA) by Liesl West EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Liesl West
- Language: English
- Genre: Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.9 MB
- Price: Free
Enna
I COUNT MY LIFE in kills.
My first was the hardest: a male siren with a scowling face. My knife
didn’t cut deep enough, and the poor fucker clung to his life. It took me
until my twenty-third kill to perfect the flick and slice of my blade. I’ve
killed 2,735 since him, and now I know better. I have learned how to make
it painless, as easy as blinking.
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I’m a death-dealer. A monster. But like Odissa says, there are worse
things to be than deadly—dead is one of them.
Soon, I’ll be thirteen kills older. Already, my blood warms with the
anticipation of my task, hot against the cold, black water.
Twelve merman soldiers swim in single file above me, pumping their
tails in a quick but labored rhythm. Each carries a darksteel trident strapped
to their backs; the metal clinks against their scales. These are royal soldiers.
Their fear is palpable. I can smell it from down here, thick and uneasy.
They’re deep in the Drink—the home of monsters far more wicked than a
death-dealer like me. In these abyssal plains, dredgebeasts make a quick
snack of anyone stupid enough to cross their waters.
But I’m no one’s snack.
Like a death sentence, I approach from beneath, rising through the black
water. As mermen, they lack the advantage of heightened siren senses. Their
noses are flat, their eyes beady and small.
Lesser beings. My father’s disdainful voice filters through my memory,
but I shove it away. I have no use for his sentiments here.
Mermaid or magic-wielder, we bleed the same. I angle for the back of the
formation, where the soldiers swim with less confidence. Easy targets. The
first soldier dies to my knife: one cut to his throat, across the gills, and the
merman falls limp. His blood blurs my dark vision. I push his body into the
blackness to mask his scent. I have less than a minute now to dispose of the
formation before their blood attracts a feeding frenzy.
The next soldier goes the way of the first. One by one, I slit their throats,
easing into my rhythm. At the center of the formation, the Abyssal Princess
swims, oblivious to her approaching fate, the glint of her siren tail reflecting
the dim light of the glowmites.
Killing the princess is Odissa’s ticket out of the Drink, she said when she
gave me the order. And if all goes well with this deal, she will release me
from her service.
My knife cuts through withered skin. That’s 2,743 kills for Odissa. And
after each kill, she promises to grant me freedom from our blood oath. How
many more kills after this hit? When will my work finally be enough to
appease her?
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