A Curse of Gold by Annie Sullivan

Author:Annie Sullivan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blink
Published: 2020-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

I hear Triton shouting before I even emerge on deck.

“Dancing,” he calls.

When he spies me stumbling onto the deck, his smile widens. “Ah, you’ve come to join me.” And somehow he gets louder, shouting across the ship, “The land princess and I wish to dance.”

I skid to a stop, my stomach feeling like it did while staring at the mussels a few moments ago. “No, we’re not—”

“Hello, musicians,” he hollers over my objections. He meanders over toward the mast as if sailors might be hiding behind it. He nearly trips on one of the deep claw marks Grax left behind the deck.

“Your captain should really take better care of his ship,” he says.

Before I can tell him his pet did that, he’s already gone back to searching the deck for any sailors he can force into being musicians.

I scurry behind him, but just when I’m about to tell him there will be no dancing, he turns around and throws up his hands.

“Doesn’t anyone on this ship know how to make music?”

“The sailors are most likely sleeping,” I say, holding up a hand to stop him while I go on. “And we will not be waking them up to play music.”

“Fine,” he replies.

The stern objection that had been forming on my lips dies.

Fine? I’d been expecting him to argue. But at this point, I’m too tired to care why he’s given in so easily. I just want to thank him and get out of there.

I’m opening my mouth to do just that when he snaps his fingers.

“Don’t worry,” he says, a wide, lopsided grin streaking across his face. “I fixed it.”

A slow melody hums over the ship. It seems to come from all around us at once. The notes are low and long, accented by little clicks that almost sound like bubbles popping in a steady beat.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Seahorses singing through their trumpets. Magical, isn’t it?” He sways back and forth, and his eyes twinkle as they stare down at me. They’re misty blue—just like the ocean where the tide meets the shore—a swirl of blue and white melting together.

I clear my throat and look away. I don’t need to be staring moonstruck into his eyes. He may be handsome, but I know better than anyone that real beauty is more than skin deep.

“Aren’t you tired?” I venture.

Triton leans in close. “I don’t need rest. I’m immortal.”

But I barely hear his answer because his face waits inches from mine. His skin smells fresh and light, like the breeze that drifts in through my windows on a warm summer’s day. The smell overwhelms my senses. I’m vaguely aware this must be how Triton lures women into becoming his Temptresses.

Something about the music, about his eyes, the way he smells, it all makes me want to lean forward and kiss him.

I pull back, stumbling away from him, the feeling fading the farther I move away. “What did you do to me?”

Confusion crosses his face as his brows narrow. Then some sort of realization must dawn because he crosses his arms and stares out toward the ocean around us.

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