Siren Daughter by Cassie Day

Author:Cassie Day [Day, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: young adult epic fantasy, young adult mythology fantasy, gods goddesses titans, mythical creatures sirens mermaids, outcasts loners exiles, coming of age, greek mythology fiction
Publisher: Cassie Day
Published: 2021-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

THE GOLD COLLAR SETTLES around my neck with a click.

I remind myself it’s all part of the dress. All part of the Olympian flair for dramatics.

Staring into the mirror outside our bathroom, I run a hand over the shined circle of gold. Whose job is it to polish gold within these halls? Imagining some lanky youth brings no comfort. The collar remains a collar pressing my necklace into the delicate skin near my jugular.

I’m no wayward dog or goat. I’m Agathe, daughter of sirens, and my song is a weapon.

The ivory dress attached to the collar falls into place. There are only dresses of the same design in the cabinet. My stained one vanished with the flow of servants in and out of our rooms. To light the hearth or tend to the bath forever strewn with flower petals or to deliver trays of food; there’s a person attending to every need.

I long for my old dress along with Charon’s gifted cloak, also gone. I’d wear them again if I could. But would I dare defy the court? I don’t know.

In her bed, Desma pretends to sleep. Her chest moves steadily and her breaths are even. But she’s still. Too still.

I should tell her so. Instead, I leave the room. Maybe if I ignore the problem I won’t have to deal with it at all. But I let the door slam behind me, satisfied with the resulting thud when she startles and falls.

I fiddle with the scraggly ends of my braided hair, glancing down the hall. No one in sight. There’ll be no one to guide me to the throne room this morning.

I try to visualize how I was dragged here. No images come besides the twisting, turning corners of my distorted memory.

Left or right? To the left, a window letting in rays of sunshine. To the right, rows of vases overflowing with flowers. Tap, tap, tap, my foot goes while I mull over which to choose.

There’s a statue near the window. I step closer. The barrel chest; Zeus. A beardless version, perhaps closer to his youth spent fighting the Titans, but him all the same.

I step to the left. The halls wind through one another but I follow the series of statues, each a different god or goddess. Soon I reach the wide main hall. The throne room waits at the end, two guards on each side of the open doors.

A woman strides from between the doors. Her clothes are different, colorful and elaborate, but I know her tanned skin and dark hair—Persephone.

My necklace pulses with heat.

“Follow her,” Nyx whispers into my ear.

I spin, heart leaping in my chest. A tendril of Nyx’s darkness grins at me in a parody of her face.

The guards clink their spears against the stone floor. The throne room doors close on silent hinges. I glance at the guards. Beneath their solid golden helmets, nothing of their faces shows except a sliver of skin.

“Focus!” Nyx says.

The darkness undulates, glancing to each side. Then, with a hiss, it dissolves.

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