The Dark Siren's Unexpected Mate

Meeting Once Again

I spend the rest of the day and the whole night completely restless. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. My stomach is in twisted, anxious knots, and they only get tighter when it’s time for Angelo and I to leave for the palace. 

“Don’t worry, child!” he says, “You’re going to be fine!”

But his calming words don’t match his voice. He’s just as nervous as me. After all, this is the biggest job he’s ever had… the biggest job any tailor can have.... Creating a dress for a royal wedding.

He paces nervously around the room, grabbing every sample he can find that might be worthy of the redheaded snake. He’s carrying around a mound of silk, lace, satin and velvet. It’s so high that it’s almost reached his chin.

Every time I think he’s grabbed every swatch possible, he exclaims “Oh!” and runs off to grab more. 

“Can you collect the sketches?” He asks, nodding toward the desk. 

I go over to pick up the scattered pile of papers, and the few I see are absolutely breathtaking. This man is ridiculously talented, and yet he’s living a life of solitude on the edges of town… a social outcast. 

I carefully stack the drawings and follow Angelo out the front door, trying to ignore the growing knot in my stomach.

We begin our tenuous march up the hill to the palace in silence. Our mouths are too tense for conversation. It’s not too long of a walk, but it feels like it’s taking forever.

By the time we finally reach the palace gate I’m a sweaty mess. 

The guard looks down his nose at us, his eye barely visible under his iron helmet. “You’re expected,” he says in a gruff voice as he steps aside to let us enter.

“Th… thank you…” Angelo stutters. 

“Head straight to the great hall,” the guard orders. 

We nod and continue on our way. When we enter the enormous room, our eyes grow wide with amazement. The giant stone columns arch to meet an impossibly high ceiling that’s been painted with a heavenly mural. The stained glass windows let in a rainbow of colored light that dances over the marble floor. 

I’ve never been in a room this beautiful before, and I’m certain Angelo hasn’t either. He’s trembling so hard that he might just fall apart. 

I hope he gets it together before that redheaded t**t arrives.

“Angelo,” I say, “You’re going to be fine.” I’m not used to saying soothing words, so it comes out a little harsh. Oh well. 

I keep looking to the shadowy entrances to see if someone is coming. The prince is close. I can feel it. I know it’s crazy, but I can feel that connection… that bond… it’s getting stronger the closer I get to him.

So when footsteps begin to echo down the hallway, my heart starts to race.

Get ahold of yourself, Calliope! He’s just a boy. Don’t let him do this to you.

The footsteps get louder, and the knot in my stomach twists even tighter. I’m dizzy and nervous, and I’m practically ready to pass out from anxiety by the time faces appear in the doorway.

The colorful light glistens on the head of flaming red curls as they enter the room. Angelo bows low. “Lady Bethea,” He whispers in a choked voice. It takes me a moment to regain my composure, and I bow as well.

I peek up and see that she’s followed by two ladies-in-waiting and a guard. But no prince.

I try to hide my disappointment. What am I even thinking? What am I going to do if I ever see him? Kill him? Tempt him? Kiss him?

I shake my head and stand up, flashing a forced smile at the beautiful princess-to-be. 

Angelo is standing up slowly, and I can tell that he’s so nervous that he doesn’t know what to say. I guess I’ll have to handle this for now.

“Good morning, my lady,” I say in my musical, tempting voice. I can see her companions melting slowly as my dark magic takes hold. It still has no effect on Lady Bethea herself, though. “If I may,” I say as I hold out the drawings toward her. 

She raises a beautifully arched eyebrow, then nods almost imperceptibly. 

I approach slowly to show her Angelo’s sketches. She looks at them in a cold, callous manner. 

I grit my teeth in frustration as I look at her indifferent face. How dare she look at his hard work like this? These drawings are masterpieces!

But I manage to control my temper and take a deep breath, still holding the forced smile. “This one is my favorite,” I say as I point to one adorned with lace that has a plunging, daring neckline, “But it’s only for the bravest of women.”

She looks up at me, narrowing her eyes defiantly. 

I smirk at her, knowing that I’m daring her to object. “And then,” I add, “If we were to add the shape of this skirt to really accentuate the curve of your hips… well… you’d be the talk of the kingdom for ages to come.”

She folds her arms and looks down her nose at me for a moment, then hastily grabs the sketches from my hands. 

But she still won’t say a word. It’s almost like she thinks herself too far above me to be worth conversation.

If only she knew what I could do to her. What I want to do to her.

But somehow, I manage to hold onto that smile. “We have some fabric samples for you to look at as well,” I say, looking back over my shoulder at Angelo who looks as if he’s made of the same stone as the floor. 

“Master Angelo?” I say with a little cough.

“What?” He says, “Oh… yes… samples…”

I can see Bethea rolling her eyes out of the corner of my gaze, and I’ve never wanted to smack someone so badly in my life. 

Angelo pulls out a few of the most expensive, finely woven samples to show her. She beckons for him to approach… almost as if she can’t be bothered to even take two steps toward him. 

The more time I spend around her, the more murderous my urges become. Usually my hatred is targeted toward men, but I could make an exception for her.

I watch quietly as she fingers through each of Angelo’s samples. She shows no emotion, no reaction at all. 

Just when I think I might explode from the boiling anger that's bubbling up in my belly, I hear footsteps approaching.

"My darling!" Exclaims Lady Bethea in a completely different voice. Suddenly she's full of life and charm. Then I realize who she's talking to. My heart stops beating and I turn to look over my shoulder. 

There he is.

The prince I've been searching for. The prince I've been hunting. He's right in front of me.

He smiles at Lady Bethea, but the expression doesn't touch his eyes. They're filled to the brim with sadness and tortured emotions.

"My dear," Bethea says excitedly, "I'd love to know what you think of this proposal for my wedding gown!"

"Of course," he sighs as he takes a step into the room. He looks over at Angelo and gives a polite nod, and then his eyes trail over to me. 

Our gazes meet, and I feel like I've been shaken by an unseen force. His eyebrows shoot up in horror. He recognizes me. His chest heaves in panic for a moment, then he bolts out of the room as fast as his feet will carry him.