Escaping the Siren Prince

Change the Hypothesis

Cora slept until noon.

Not nine. Not ten-thirty with enough time to pretend she'd simply enjoyed a lazy morning on vacation. Noon.

By the time she opened her eyes, sunlight had already found its way through the thin curtains of the guesthouse and stretched across the floor in bright, accusing stripes. For several seconds, Cora lay perfectly still beneath the sheet, staring at the ceiling while her brain slowly returned to consciousness.

Then she realized something.

She hadn't dreamed last night.

No black water. No singing. No Luka waiting beneath the surface of the water. No waking barefoot somewhere she hadn't remembered going.

Nothing.

Cora closed her eyes again and exhaled.

"Thank God."

Apparently complete physical exhaustion had accomplished what locking doors, avoiding beaches, and several increasingly desperate attempts at rational thought had not.

She had slept.

Really slept.

Her body still felt like she'd been hit by a truck, although considering she'd spent nearly two hours alone in open water yesterday swimming for her life, that seemed reasonable. Her shoulders ached when she stretched. The muscles through her back protested when she rolled onto her side, and there was a bruise forming along one hip where she'd struck the railing before going overboard.

Evidence.

Cora stared at the bruise.

Yesterday had happened.

The boat excursion had happened. Falling overboard had happened. Spending what had felt like an eternity alone in the sea had happened.

What came after that sequence of events was where reality became considerably less cooperative.

She sat up and pushed tangled red hair away from her face.

There were two options.

First, Cora Langley, twenty-three years old, holder of a Marine Science degree from the reputable Coastal Carolina University, experienced diver and otherwise reasonably sane and functional adult, had suffered an extraordinarily vivid hallucination after prolonged physical exertion, dehydration, alcohol consumption, and oxygen deprivation.

All true and possible.

Or … second, Luka Varek had a tail and might be a merman, or fishman, or siren. Or whatever.

Cora stared blankly at the wall.

"Great."

There was also the inconvenient and unforgettable mouth-to-mouth exchange of oxygen that had felt suspiciously like a kiss, but wasn't a kiss, or at least that's what she needed to tell herself, because she had technically been drowning at the time.

And also the teensie fact that she'd breathed underwater.

Cora dropped her face into her hands.

"Nope."

She wasn't doing this from bed.

If there was one thing she'd learned through four years of labs, research projects, fieldwork, and professors who seemed to derive genuine pleasure from dismantling poorly supported conclusions, it was that when evidence didn't fit the hypothesis, you didn't ignore the evidence.

You changed the hypothesis.

Cora had spent the past several days trying to force everything happening on this island into explanations she already understood.

That clearly wasn't working.

Today was her fourth day on an island she'd planned to visit for five.

She had twenty-four hours before she was supposed to pack her suitcase, board the afternoon ferry, and continue toward the final stretch of her trip as though none of this had happened.

Cora had absolutely no intention of leaving without answers.

"Okay," she told the empty room. "We investigate."

First, however, she desperately needed a shower.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged through the steam feeling marginally more human. She washed the salt from her hair twice, conditioned it into submission, and stood beneath hot water until the stiffness in her shoulders began to loosen. Afterward, she pulled on a pair of linen shorts and a loose tank top, then regarded herself critically in the bathroom mirror.

The reflection looking back at her was less encouraging.

Her green eyes were clear enough, but the shadows underneath them suggested she'd spent the past several nights being psychologically tormented by the water surrounding this island.

Which, admittedly, she had.

Cora dug through her toiletry bag and found the cooling under-eye patches she'd bought in Seoul and had been hoarding for some hypothetical skincare emergency.

"This qualifies."

She wore them while brushing out her hair, applied moisturizer and sunscreen, then added just enough makeup to make herself look less like she'd recently survived a maritime disaster. By the time she pulled the patches away, she no longer looked entirely unhinged.

Good.

Because she had a plan.

Or, more accurately, she intended to acquire enough caffeine to develop one.

Cora grabbed her bag, shoved her sunglasses onto her head, and stepped outside.

"Cora."

She stopped.

Marija stood near the side of the main house with a basket balanced against one hip, looking at her with an expression somewhere between surprise and disapproval.

For once, Cora was delighted to see her.

"Perfect. Marija, where can I find Luka Varek?"

Marija blinked.

"Good afternoon to you."

"Good afternoon. Where can I find Luka Varek?"

Marija's mouth tightened.

"You sleep very late."

"I had a long night."

"I thought so."

Something in the answer made Cora pause.

Marija adjusted the basket against her hip and glanced toward the guesthouse. "I did not hear you when you come back."

Cora studied her.

"You didn't?"

"No. I think you were out very late."

"Out where?"

Marija gave her the sort of look that suggested Cora was being intentionally difficult, and then she shrugged. "Whatever you do yesterday."

That wasn't an answer.

Cora stepped closer. "Did you know I went on a boat?"

For the first time, Marija's expression shifted.

"A boat?"

There was enough genuine surprise there that Cora couldn't immediately decide whether Marija was an exceptional liar or actually had no idea what had happened.

"I took an excursion. Adriatic Blue. Blue Caves and Hidden Bays."

Marija frowned. "With Petar. You leave the island?"

"Technically, yes. Like Luka asked. Just not permanently."

"And you come back last night?"

That question was considerably more complicated than it should have been.

Cora crossed her arms. "Eventually."

Marija stared at her for another moment, gaze traveling over Cora as though checking for injuries she hadn't noticed before.

"Something happen? What?"

Cora almost laughed.

That was exactly what she intended to find out.

"Where can I find Luka, please?"

Marija's expression closed off. There it was.

"Why you want to see Luka?"

"Because I need to talk to him."

"You already talk to him."

"Yes. It was incredibly illuminating. He told me to leave the island and refused to explain why."

"Cora."

"Marija."

The older woman sighed and lowered the basket to the stone ledge beside her. "You leave Luka alone. He is not someone you should make enemy of."

Cora's eyebrows rose. "Is that what I'm doing?"

"I don't know what you do."

"Neither do I. That's why I'd like to speak with him."

Marija's lips pressed together.

"His family been here on Vela Luka very long time," she said. "They are powerful. Village people respect them."

Cora thought of Luka standing waist-deep in water that should have been twenty feet deep.

Powerful suddenly seemed like a word with several possible definitions.

"What kind of powerful?"

Marija immediately reached for the basket again and turned to go inside as if she hadn't heard the question, and decided the conversation was over.

"Marija."

"I have things to do."

"Does everyone on this island answer questions by leaving?"

"Perhaps you ask many questions."

"That's not a thing."

"It is here."

Cora watched her start toward the house.

"Where can I find Luka?"

Marija stopped but didn't turn around.

"You don't."

Cora smiled despite herself.

"Okay. I'll find him myself."

Marija looked over her shoulder, and the expression she gave Cora made it abundantly clear what she thought of that decision.

Cora adjusted her sunglasses.

"Coffee first, though."