Page 12 of The Lost Siren

“It is an honor to meet you, Wren. I am Kieran.”

When Kieran realized his companion had yet to follow his example, his fist flew out and smacked him in his stomach. The other Draken doubled over in a rough bow, finally tearing his eyes from me.

“Er, yes; a pleasure. Sorry, I’m Ronan.”

Ronan was slightly smaller in stature, with his brown hair so dark it was nearly black cut short, and golden eyes that had only a tinge of brown to them. His nose was more delicate, though sharp cheekbones gave him a slightly predatory, hungry look.

They both straightened and looked at me in anticipation. I gripped the knife, not moving.

“Now you’ve done it, you’ve scared her with your staring.”

Kieran walloped Ronan around his ears, but Ronan snarled and snapped back, kicking Kieran in the knee. They both fell to the floor, scuffling. After a few growls and tussling, Kieran popped back up, his nose bloody and off-center. I watched with wide eyes as it healed in front of me, the nose snapping back into place with a ‘pop’ as he wiped the blood away. He hauled Ronan to his feet, as the smaller Draken shook out his leg.

“Sorry about that! Dominance fights are a common occurrence here, though not usually with us. This one knows his place.”

Kieran jerked a thumb at Ronan, who growled, but didn’t correct him. They both stood there awkwardly, waiting for me to make the first move. They’d be waiting all night.

“Shall we?” Kieran tentatively gestured at the food. He sat around the loaded table and began serving himself. He shot Ronan a dark look and the other Draken followed, struggling to keep his eyes off me. I’d have to watch him. The two men ate and chatted, for all the world ignoring my presence. After a bit, my muscles sagged, tired from being tense for so long. Clearly, these men weren’t going to attack me like Brogen did. I took a step towards the food but stopped, looking at the knife I held.

“Hold onto it if it makes you feel better; smart to always stay armed in unknown situations.”

Kieran talked around a large roll in his mouth, not even glancing up at me. I sat down and snatched a plate and a small bit of chicken.

“Good on you for getting Brogen when we couldn’t; that lowlife deserved it.”

I froze, my eyes flicking to Kieran’s.

“T-Thanks.”

Kieran wiped his mouth, looking at me seriously as I started eating.

“I apologize if Brogen has tainted your opinion of Drakens. Both of us are ecstatic just to be here, and you can expect nothing except stimulating conversation and perhaps a dessert tart, if that’s your preference. Drakens donotforce females, Brogen’s appalling instincts aside.”

Ronan shot another nervous glance at me. I swallowed, feeling some of my fear dissipate.

“Benedict gave the impression that—"

Kieran threw his napkin down, scoffing. “Benedict doesn’t always have...what’s the word, Ronan?” He snapped his fingers, and Ronan rolled his eyes.

“Tact?”

“Yes, that! He spends all his time outside the mountain and grows to expect the worst of us. A few hundred years ago, he’d have been correct; we’d have jumped you the moment you walked in. Centuries of self-control have mellowed us somewhat. Our inner animals are sensing the species is likely lost.”

“But Brogen—”

“Mostof us. You should always still be wary. It’s the Draken instincts; they scream at us constantly to find our mates and start our families. Some of us can tune it out, others can’t. It’s one of the reasons so few of us are left; we start turning on each other. That’s Benedict’s main job: to keep us in line.”

I added what looked like poached hare to my plate, along with a few potatoes. Companionable silence fell, and I loathed to break it. At least my stomach was able to keep down what I had put in it so far. Kieran shot a look at Ronan, who nodded.

“May we give you a gift?”

I wiped my hands on my napkin. “I suppose.”

Kieran unhooked something from his belt and so did Ronan. My hands twitched as they set down a pair of glittered, jeweled daggers on the table. The blades looked razor sharp, and the handle was carved from whatlookedlike bone. It wasn’t though, was it?

“The blade was fashioned from a demon spine. Nasty things, but this knife will repel them from you and hurt twice as much when you get a hit in. I hear you like your knives."

I allowed myself a smirk in his direction as I ran one finger down the hard white surface of the blade, unsure how to act. It was hardly an appropriate gift for any woman, but it felt perfect forme. It was hard to imagine being anything other than a slave or a servant, but a slave certainly wouldn’t own anything as deadly and awe-inspiring as this.