Every siren High Priestess has a Heart Core. The queen swallowed my sister’s. But she forgot about the second one.” They gut my sister like a fish in front of me. She’s thrown into a basin full of pearls, her massive tail thrashing, casting this sick blue glow across every face in the room. Soldiers shove their hands all over her — rough, careless — tearing off her scales like they’re peeling bark off a tree. Blue scales scatter across the stone like broken glass. Then they slice her open. A man rams his fist inside her belly, roots around like he’s digging through a sack of grain, and pulls out a Core — glowing, pulsing, beautiful. And just like that, they stop. Got what they came for. All because some queen heard a bedtime story. Somewhere deep in the Endless Sea, there’s an ancient race — sirens. And inside every siren High Priestess, there’s a Heart Core. Swallow it, and you’ll be irresistible. Forever young. Forever beautiful. Queen Seraphina heard that and lost her goddamn mind. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Had to have it. So her husband — the great and mighty King Aldric — sent his army to the bottom of the sea to make his wife happy. They butchered everyone. Every siren they could find — ripped open, left floating belly-up in water so red it looked like sunset. My aunts. My cousins. My elders. All of them. Split open and thrown away like garbage. And my sister — my Caelia — they dragged her out and cut her apart while she was still breathing. I’m hiding beneath a reef, watching the whole thing. Blood in my eyes. Blood in my mouth. And every tear that rolls down my face turns hard — crystallizes into a tiny gem before it even hits the water. Siren tears do that. They turn into jewels. Mine are stained red. The last thing I hear is Caelia’s voice — soft, steady, even now — whispering to me from behind the rock where she shoved me to safety. ““Don’t cry, little one. Just… stay alive. Survive.”” Here’s the thing the world doesn’t know. They think there’s only one High Priestess per generation. One Core. But this time, there were two of us. My sister got the beauty. The grace. The Core that grants eternal youth. I got something else. I got blood that breeds monsters. Mindworms — thousands of them — born from my own flesh, fed on my own bone. Creatures that burrow into your brain and make you see things, feel things, dream things that aren’t real. Creatures that can fake a pregnancy. Creatures that can eat a man alive from the inside out. I drag myself to shore. The Ancient Siren Rite — splitting your tail into legs — is supposed to be agonizing, and let me tell you, that’s an understatement. It feels like someone’s taking a serrated blade to my spine and just pulling. But I do it. Because Caelia told me to stay alive. And I’m not staying alive to hide. I spend three months feeding the swarm. My blood. My bone marrow. Everything I have goes into breeding these things until a small silver-white serpent — barely the length of my forearm — coils around my wrist. It’s eaten every other creature I’ve raised. Thousands of them. It’s the last one standing. I call him Fang. And then I walk to the capital. I disguise myself as a dancer, bribe my way through the castle gates with a handful of Siren’s Tears — gems made from my own crying — and I buy every scrap of information I can get. King Aldric’s schedule. His habits. His weaknesses. His routine walks by the lake. That night, the moon lays itself across the water like a sheet of silver. I dance barefoot at the edge of Sunset Lake, my toes barely kissing the surface, sending ripples through the light. The scent that rises off my skin — it’s a siren thing. Sweet. Heavy. The kind of smell that makes you forget where you are. Hundreds of fireflies come spiraling out of the dark, drawn to it, swirling around me like I’m the center of the universe. I know he’s there. I can feel him watching from the bank. I keep dancing. When I finish, I turn — and our eyes meet. I let my face flood with surprise. My heart is hammering, but not for the reason he thinks. I scramble for my shoes like I’m about to bolt, and right on cue, his voice cuts across the water. “You — are you one of the court dancers? That was… I’ve never seen anything like it.” I keep my eyes down. Play dumb. “It’s a dance from my homeland, my lord. Most people haven’t.” The spring air has a bite to it. I let myself shiver — just a little. He notices. Of course he does. He takes the pale cloak off his own shoulders and drapes it over mine. Gentle. Almost careful. I look up at him with wide eyes. Let the blush come. It’s not hard — the cold does half the work. That scent thickens between us. The air turns warm and close. I catch the flash of something in his eyes. Fascination. Hunger. Then he straightens up and clears his throat, all business again. “The Queen loves dance. Her birthday’s coming up. You’ll perform this piece for her.” I drop to my knees on the cold stone. “Forgive me, Your Majesty — I had no idea who you were.” He waves it off, but his eyes won’t leave my face. “Get up. You’re fine. Just don’t let me down.” I thank him. Accept the assignment. Watch his back disappear into the night. Then I twitch my finger. A Mindworm — tiny, almost invisible — wriggles off my skin and burrows into his. By morning, every corridor in this castle is buzzing with the same story: the King met a dancer by the lake last night. A knock on my door. A stone-faced matron I’ve never seen before. It’s starting.
I’m brought straight to Queen Seraphina. The Gilded Hall is exactly what you’d expect — dripping with silk, gold everywhere, jewels stacked on jewels. And there she sits, alone on a raised platform like she’s holding court. Crown pins. Gemstone earrings. Rings on every finger. This is the woman who wiped out my bloodline because she wanted to look pretty forever. This is the woman who killed my sister. She takes one look at me and her face crumples with disgust. Presses her lacquered nails against her lips. “This ugly little thing is supposed to dance for me?” Before I came, I dotted my face with fake freckles. Dark ones. Clusters of them. Covered every inch. Because I know what Seraphina is. She’s the kind of woman who’d slit your throat for being prettier than her. If she saw my real face right now, I’d be dead by dinner. I kneel on the stone floor, nails biting into my palms so hard I almost bleed. Every cell in my body is screaming — kill her, kill her now — but I press it all down and make my voice small. “Your Majesty, I’ll wear a veil during the performance. You won’t have to see my face.” She snorts. “Well. You’re certainly no threat to anyone looking like that. If the King wants to send me a pet dancer, fine. I’ll take his little gift.” She flicks her wrist. The matron drags me out. I’m barely through the door when I nearly slam into Aldric. He glances at me — and I see the confusion flash across his face. This freckled, plain-looking girl is nothing like the moonlit beauty from last night. But the scent doesn’t lie. He knows exactly why I did it. He knows that if Seraphina had seen my real face, he’d be stepping over my corpse right now. Something dark crosses his expression. His jaw tightens. And for the first time — just barely — I see anger toward his queen flicker behind his eyes. I let the corner of my mouth lift. Just a fraction. That’s all it takes. One tiny seed of doubt. One hairline crack. It’ll sit in the back of his mind and fester — grow roots, spread, until it’s something he can’t dig out no matter how hard he tries. And when that day comes? All of Seraphina’s power, her family, her precious position — it’ll just mean she’s got further to fall. I go back to my room. Wash the fake freckles off. Seraphina. You wanted supernatural beauty? Eternal youth? I’m going to make sure everything you stole turns to dust in your hands. Fang slides up my wrist. I stroke his tiny head. “Soon,” I whisper. “She goes first. Straight to hell. To apologize to my sister in person.” The day of Seraphina’s birthday, the castle goes all out. Water lilies have bloomed overnight across the entire surface of Sunset Lake — which everyone takes as some kind of divine blessing. Lucky omen. Great sign. Aldric stands at the shore with Seraphina on his arm. She’s beaming. “So — my gift. When do I get it?” He nods. The music starts. I step onto the lily pads. Each step barely touches the water — light as breathing, precise as a blade. That scent rolls off me again, and the fireflies come pouring out of the darkness, hundreds of them, spiraling around my body like a living constellation. Every single person watching has gone slack-jawed. Frozen. Like they forgot how to blink. Every single person except Seraphina, who’s digging her nails into her own palms hard enough to draw blood. Mid-spin, my veil slips. And there it is. My real face. No freckles. No disguise. Just — me. I turn toward Seraphina and smile. The hatred in her eyes is so raw it’s almost a living thing. The dance ends. Nobody moves. Nobody makes a sound. Until I kneel in front of Aldric. “For the Queen’s birthday, this humble dancer offers her best. May your reign with the King be long, and may your joy never fade.” “Long live the Aurelia Empire!” I don’t know when Aldric let go of Seraphina’s hand. But it’s gone now. He reaches down toward me. His voice is soft. “Rise. You didn’t disappoint.” Seraphina’s jaw is clenched so tight I’m shocked her teeth don’t shatter. She forces a smile. “What a charming gift, my lord. I love it.” “Good,” Aldric says, barely looking at her. The Mindworm’s been doing its job — pulling his attention, stirring his emotions. But it’s too risky to leave in much longer. I curl my finger, ready to call it back — And that’s when a voice slices through the crowd. “Your Majesty — how about you give this beauty to me? Consider it a peace offering between our kingdoms.”
Aldric’s head snaps toward the voice. “Who said that?” “The Crown Prince of Valdris, Your Majesty,” Cedric murmurs from his side. A man steps forward — tall, broad, dressed head to toe in foreign finery. He moves like someone who’s never been told no. “King Aldric. I’m Prince Kaelen of Valdris.” “Hand her over, and I’ll guarantee a hundred years of peace. Not one drop of blood spilled between our nations.” Dead silence. Then gasps. Because this is insane — in the best possible way for everyone except me. One dancer for a century of peace? Any king with half a brain would take that deal in a heartbeat. Seraphina jumps in immediately. “My lord, surely this would be a wonderful opportunity for the girl. A prince’s consort — what more could she want?” Aldric hesitates. And I can see the war playing out behind his eyes. Logic says do it. Strategy says do it. Every political instinct he has is screaming take the deal. So why can’t he? I lift my face and look at him. Just look. Today I’ve painted shimmering marks near my eyes — they catch the light and make everything about my face more intense, more devastating. But right now, those devastating eyes are filling with tears. Something cracks inside him. I see it happen. “You’re too late,” he says. “She’s already mine.” Seraphina chokes. “My lord?!” Kaelen bows — disappointed but graceful — and backs away. My back is drenched in cold sweat. Thank god. Thank god I didn’t pull that Mindworm out in time. Without it nudging his emotions, he would’ve handed me over without blinking. No king in history turns down free peace for a girl he met two days ago. That afternoon, he declared me his in front of the entire court. That evening, the royal decree shows up at my door. I am now the Lady of the Moon. I leave the dancers’ quarters and look out over the castle grounds. In my chest, a vow settles like iron. Everything they did to you, Caelia — to our people — I will repay it. Every last drop. When I reach Moonstone Hall — my new chambers — Seraphina is already there. Waiting. She looks at my face and smiles. Poison dripping from every syllable. “You lied to me.” “If I hadn’t — would I have lived long enough to dance today?” She laughs, stroking the cat in her lap. “Fair point. You do know me well.” The smile vanishes. “But let me make something very clear. Title or no title. King’s bed or not. I will kill you whenever I feel like it.” I hold her gaze. Steady. Calm as still water. “So you’ve already picked how I die?” “A fire. A tragic accident. The Lady of the Moon, burned alive in her own chambers.” She leans forward. “Aldric and I go way back — childhood sweethearts. My father and brother fight his wars. You think he’ll shed a single tear over one dead mistress?” Her men grab me. Bind my hands. Bind my feet. Throw me to the floor. Oil splashes across the walls. The floor. My dress. The first spark drops and Seraphina laughs — loud, wild, free. “He’s drunk tonight. Dead drunk. No one’s coming for you, sweetheart.” I watch her walk away through the growing flames. My face doesn’t move. The fire erupts. The guards at my door grab their throats — blood gushing from their eyes, nose, mouth, ears — and crumple. Dead before they hit the ground. I step through the fire with Fang curled around my arm. My little insects have already laid a trail. I follow it — running, running — until I crash headfirst into someone’s chest. I look up. Wide eyes. Trembling lip. The terror on my face is flawless. Aldric crushes me against him, staring at the blaze over my shoulder. “Who the hell did this? Find them. NOW.” I bury my face in his chest and say nothing. He knows who did it. We both know he knows. But he’ll pretend — because Seraphina is his childhood bride, and her family has an army. He’s not going to punish her. Not for me. Not for a girl he barely knows. “I’m scared,” I whisper, pressing closer. Making myself as small and soft as possible. He’s really drunk. Flushed. I can smell the wine on every breath. And I’m a siren. Every part of me is designed to make men lose their minds. Add the Mindworm stoking his desire, and the look in his eyes shifts from concern to something much, much darker. He scoops me up and carries me straight to his chambers. It won’t take long for Seraphina to hear about this. And she will absolutely lose it. Right on schedule — I’ve barely settled in when her steward drops to his knees outside the door. “Your Majesty — the Queen is feeling terribly unwell. She’s begging to see you.”
I’m draped in nothing but a silk slip, looking up at Aldric through heavy lashes. My voice comes out low and sweet. “Are you going to go to her?” His eyes are glazed over. He stares at me like the rest of the world just… stopped existing. “With you right here… I can’t even remember her name.” I press my hand to my mouth and laugh — quiet, teasing. It’s just us in this room. Just candlelight and him looking at me like I’m the only real thing left. His breath is hot against my neck. His fingers trace my collarbone. And then — just like that — he’s out cold. On his forehead, a pale pink Mindworm is still wriggling its way deeper. I roll him onto the bed. Pull the blankets up to his chin. “Sweet dreams, Your Majesty. I made this one special.” Then I slide the pin from my hair and prick my fingertip. A few drops of blood onto a silk cloth — the rest goes straight into his mouth. Can’t waste the good stuff. This amount won’t kill him. Not yet. But give it time — night after night, drop after drop — and it’ll eat him from the inside like rust on iron. And here’s the beautiful part: no healer in this world can cure it. Only me. The moon’s directly overhead now, pouring silver through the window. I sit on the edge of his bed, counting minutes. A scratch at the windowsill. A spider — no bigger than my thumbnail. One of the thousand tiny spies I’ve seeded throughout this castle. She’s coming. I stand. Smooth my clothes. Walk outside. Seraphina is standing at the foot of the steps with what looks like half the castle’s staff behind her. Servants, stewards, guards — a whole damn army. This isn’t a jealous wife checking on her husband. This is a siege. I stand above her on the steps. Slowly — deliberately — I sweep my hair to one side, baring the fresh red mark on my neck. Moonlight on my skin. A smile on my lips. Sweet as sugar. “The King’s asleep. Maybe try again tomorrow?” Her face twists into something barely human. “You filthy — I will kill you with my bare hands!” I point — lazy, casual — at her belly. “Careful, Your Majesty. You don’t want to upset the baby.” She freezes. Mid-scream. Like someone hit pause. Here’s the thing about Seraphina. Aldric once promised her — give me a son, and I’ll make you the most powerful woman in the kingdom. Official. Permanent. Five years of marriage. Nothing. Not even a scare. She’s tried everything. Every healer, every remedy, every folk cure in every corner of the continent. Nothing works. And if she can’t produce an heir soon, that promise dies. “Guards! Drag this whore out of my sight and BEAT HER TO DEATH!” Yeah. I hit a nerve. I shake off the hands grabbing at me. “Your Majesty — take a breath. Maybe call a healer? Have them check?” I pause. Let the silence build. “Because this baby? I’m the only one who can keep it alive.”
Seraphina’s lying on a chaise in her private chamber. Half a dozen healers are on their knees in front of her. She’s propped up on one elbow, exhaustion carved into every line of her face, patience clearly gone. “Well? Am I pregnant or not?” “Without question, Your Majesty. Every sign points to a healthy pregnancy.” They say it in unison. Like a chorus. Seraphina shoots upright. Her eyes go glassy. “Really?” Her voice is shaking. Tiny. Careful — like she’s holding something so fragile that breathing wrong would break it. And I think — huh. So even someone like her can look this small. She turns to me, remembering my words. “And? Is it stable?” “Strong and steady, Your Majesty. Nothing to worry about.” She smiles. For one second, it’s genuine. Then she looks at me and the smile turns to murder. “Now that I’m carrying the King’s heir, I really shouldn’t have blood on my hands.” Pause. “But God, you make me want to.” She snaps her fingers. Her men lunge at me, fingers digging into my arms. I twitch one finger. Seraphina doubles over screaming, clutching her stomach. The healers rush in. Check her pulse. One by one, their faces drain white. They hit the floor. “Your Majesty — please — we’re losing the baby —” She goes dead pale. She just found out she’s pregnant. How can she already be losing it? She looks at me. All the venom’s gone. All the cruelty’s gone. What’s left is raw, naked terror. “Do something! Now!” “If you lose this baby — I’ll kill everyone you love.” My nails are buried in my palms. Everyone I’ve ever loved. That’s the funniest thing she’s ever said. They’re dead. All of them. She killed them. I’m the only one who crawled out of that grave. And I crawled out for her. I step forward. Dab a tincture on her wrists. Her color slowly comes back. The healer checks again. Stable. Crisis over. Here’s the truth: I don’t know the first thing about medicine. And Seraphina isn’t pregnant. The night she tried to burn me alive, I slipped a Mindworm inside her. A special one. It mimics every sign of pregnancy — fools every healer, even produces kicks in the later months. But it also feeds. Day and night. Draining the host from the inside out. And it answers to me. If I want her dead, she dies. One thought. That’s all it takes. But just Seraphina? That’s not enough. The men who actually butchered my people — they were her father and brother. Her brother. Duke Seraph. Those thick, greasy hands of his running up and down my sister’s tail. Ripping off scales like he was shucking corn. Scales and blood raining down while Caelia’s face twisted in silent agony. She never screamed. Not once. She clenched her jaw so hard she cracked her own teeth. By the time she died, they were shattered. I look at Seraphina’s happy, hopeful face and feel something cold settle in my chest. Every second of pain my sister felt — you’re going to pay back a hundred times over.
I get back to Aldric’s chambers. He’s still out cold. I slip off my outer gown, slide in beside him, and stare at the ceiling. I wonder what his face is going to look like when he finds out Seraphina’s pregnant. Because here’s the thing — he’s the one who had her poisoned. Years ago. Secretly. Made sure she could never conceive. The Ashfords are too powerful. Too much military muscle. If Seraphina produced a male heir, her father could use that kid as a puppet — stage a coup, take the throne from the inside. Does Aldric care about Seraphina? Sure. A little. Childhood sweethearts and all that. But the crown comes first. Always. He wakes up and stares at me for a long, dazed moment. That dreamy look — still swimming in last night’s visions. My Mindworm dreams are very good. I flutter my eyes open under his gaze. Shy smile. Little stretch. I’m reaching for his robe when Cedric’s voice comes through the curtain. “Your Majesty — the Queen’s sent word. The healers confirmed it this morning. She’s with child.” The smile dies on Aldric’s face. Just — gone. Like someone blew out a candle. “Has the news gotten out?” “She’s already sent a rider to Lord Commander Ashford.” I start to get up — give him space, play the considerate mistress — but he catches my hand. “Stay. You’re exhausted from last night. Rest here.” His thumb traces circles on my wrist. “I’ll find you somewhere better to live.” I thank him. Lie back down in his bed. Watch him walk out the door. Seraphina’s pregnant. The Ashfords are circling. Aldric’s buried in politics. Nobody’s paying attention to the dancer with no last name. Perfect. Prince Kaelen of Valdris — that’s my blade. I don’t just want a handful of deaths. You wiped out my entire species. I’m going to tear your kingdom apart from the inside. I write a note, let Fang carry it in his mouth, and send him to find Kaelen. Days pass. I move into nicer chambers. Things are quiet. Then Seraphina’s steward shows up at my door. “The Queen’s in terrible pain. She needs the Lady of the Moon. Immediately.” I run my fingers over Fang where he’s coiled on my desk. Tuck him into my sleeve. Head to the Gilded Hall. Inside, the incense is so thick it burns my eyes — but underneath it, I can smell the blood. So. Aldric made his move. Too bad. There’s nothing real in her belly. He can poison her all he wants — all it does is make her hurt. Nobody knows I saved her “pregnancy” that night. Aldric has no idea. I stand over Seraphina’s bed, watching her face crumple with pain, and pull out my silver needles with a calm, practiced hand.
The Mindworm doesn’t care about Aldric’s poison. Inside Seraphina’s belly, it keeps growing. Multiplying. Getting fat. “My baby — is it going to be okay?” The words barely come out.” She can barely get the words out. I make a show of checking her pulse. “Yeah. But it’s going to hurt.” Even half-dead, she can’t help herself. “If you’re lying, my father and brother will make you beg for death.” I slide the first needle in. Slow. Inch by inch. All the way in until it disappears under her skin. The pain must be unreal — I can see it eating her alive — but she can’t scream. Can’t move. All she can do is stare at me with those bloodshot eyes, shaking with rage. Her father and brother. Right. I’d love to see them try — considering they can barely keep themselves alive right now. I gave Kaelen a handful of Mindworms weeks ago. Told him to get them into the Ashfords’ food. Father and son both command the border army. Once the worms take hold, they get reckless. Aggressive. Stupid. They’ll overplay their hand, and when they do, their soldiers will lose faith. An army that doesn’t trust its generals is just a mob with swords. Ten whispers. One for each finger. I stop. Seraphina passed out three whispers ago. I wave toward the door. “Send the healers in.” But it’s not just healers who walk through that door. Aldric’s right behind them. The healer checks Seraphina through the curtain. Aldric and I stand side by side. His eyes are ice. “I didn’t realize you had hidden talents.” “A village remedy, Your Majesty. Nothing grand.” He doesn’t smile back. Just stares at the curtain. I wrecked his plan and he’s pissed. I’m still trying to figure out how to spin this when the healer speaks. “The Queen’s pregnancy is stable, Your Majesty.” Aldric’s face goes dark. But he walks over to Seraphina, takes her hand, and plays the loving husband. “You’ve been through so much, my love.” She gives him a weak, grateful smile. “For you and our child — it’s nothing.” I stand off to the side, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. He doesn’t look happy. He looks like someone forced him to swallow glass. “I should thank Lyra,” Seraphina says sweetly — so syrupy I nearly laugh. She knows she’s falling apart. Every healer in the kingdom couldn’t keep her pregnancy stable. Only I can. Aldric turns to me. The cold in his voice could freeze the lake solid. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
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