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My nose scrunches. "Can you just... move him elsewhere?"
He looks at me with a brow raised. "Are you making demands of me in my own kingdom, Miss Elva?"
With a laugh, I shove against his shoulder. "Just asking a favor. I'm not sure I'll be able to focus with his dead body so close to me."
"You get used to it," he assures me, making me a little bit queasy to think more dead bodies are going to be in my near future. "But I'll send him away since you asked so nicely."
"Thank you."
The dead Shan, who doesn't look dead at all, stands, waiting patiently for something. Kai produces a key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and opens it just enough to let Shan through. The corpse doesn't even look at us; he just walks by with a blank stare, walking the opposite way we came. His steps grow quiet as he disappears down the dark hall.
Directing my attention back to the Syrens clutching each other in the corner, dried blood crusting along their legs and arms. They stare at me, abject horror on their faces. Neither of them has even looked at Kairon or at their only possible doorway for escape. Instead, terror fills their faces as their gazes stay locked on me.
"After you, Elva." The king holds the door open for me, and the Syrens become inconsolable.
"Don't let her touch us," one of them pleads with the king, pushing her black hair streaked with crimson blood out of her face. "Please! We'll tell you anything; just please don't let her touch me."
Confusion fills the king's face, and he looks at me before looking back at her.
"Why?"
The other answers, "I... I don't know— we don't know, but you can't let her touch us! It'll be a fate worse than any torture."
"Just kill us now, please! You can't let her touch us. They said—" Her eyes roll back in her head, lids fluttering like she's fighting for lucidity. "Don't let her touch. Her touch is the torture of a thousand slow deaths. A million tiny slices of agony that your body won't let succumb to the sweet relief of dying."
For a moment, I'm scared the king will use this as a reason not to trust me. The reveal of a secret that he knows is true but doesn't know the truth of.
Instead, he looks back at me, open curiosity and mischief bringing his features alight. "Do you want me out here or in there with you?"
Trusting me to lead this is the best gift he could possibly give. He lets me decide if I want to face this alone or side by side. Even though I can see the nerves hiding behind his smile, scared of leaving me alone with two creatures that can sing someone into submission so easily, he allows me the complete freedom to do what I want.
"Wherever you'll have the best vantage point." I shrug. A part of me knows I should feel sick about this. This strange, flirtatious discussion of how we're about to torture and kill two Syrens. It's too vulgar and violent of a moment to feel so intimate, but venturing into this with Kairon and his morbid, wicked humor is so delicious. I can't deny that, at this moment, I've never craved his touch more.
He smiles, the fire in his eyes heating. Again, he gestures me through the door, his hand on my lower back as I walk through. The Syrens' pleas turn into cries as they try to burrow their way into the wall behind them to escape us. The click of the cage door shutting drives them into hysteria, going as far as to try to push each other toward me.
The king chuckles. "I don't think I've ever been in a room where I wasn't the person everyone was most afraid of."
A smile fights its way onto my face, even through my trepidation.
Slowly, I walk toward the Syrens with my hands up placatingly. They scream, making themselves as small as possible. "It's alright," I tell them. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Don't—" One sniffles. "Don't come any closer."
I crouch, coming down to their level and trying to remain completely unintimidating. "It's okay," I tell her again. "Can I check your wounds?"
She sniffles, trying to gain clarity through the fear. I reach out for her leg, and she flinches away from me. I barely manage to get my fingertips to graze her shin, and that's enough.
Terror floods me, tempered with a violent rage, confusion, anticipation, and even a little hope. It's the hope that makes my heart sink. She still thinks there's a chance she's getting out of this. Even though they were part of a plot to kill me, looking at a life that's soon to leave this world because of me is a raw, clawing feeling, rivulets of guilt tearing through me.
Pushing through my own concoction of feelings, I calm hers. The tears stop, and the fear and anger abate, leaving a semi-lucid, still very confused Syren before me. I look behind me at the king, his head tilted to the side, watching me with curious eyes.
"You're okay," I tell the Syren, and she nods.
The one behind her still claws to escape, pushing her friend away to get further from me.
"What's your name?" I ask her.
"Veil," she tells me, blinking repeatedly while searching for clarity.
