Sleeping Nightmare

Chapter 21: the siren princess | Tyler

I knelt by the Princess' side, shards of loose rock crunching under my shoes. She didn't stir. By closely inspecting her, I discerned that she was breathing. She inhaled sharply and released it just as savagely, her chest barely rising and falling.

The diagrams had portrayed her to be a force of nature - I had no doubt that she had the potential, but they had overlooked one detail; her age. The drawing in Kye's book showed the Princess to be a regal lady about to emerge into her adulthood, but the girl that lay in front of me was a child.

Despite her body and clothes being dry, her hair was wet, as if she'd just been lifted out of the water. Her damp hair made it difficult for me to determine what colour it was. It could be black, or brown, or auburn.

Her hair partly covered her mouth and nose. I feared potential airway obstruction, which would explain her hurried breathing. My fingers were on her face before my mind could think, pulling her hair away. The wet strands slid down her cheeks in a sluggish manner, leaving a straight line of wetness behind.

The Princess' breathing remained furious, her exhales and inhales so quick that she seemed as if she were fighting to breathe.

Kye-Ann stepped forward, kicking a rock as she did so. The rock sailed over the Princess, an inch away from cutting into her high cheekbone. Before I could reprimand the garnet eyed siren's antics, Kye slapped the Princess' face in a bid to startle her awake.

Quick as a viper, my fingers circled Kye's wrist, and I pulled her behind me. "What the hell?" I demanded, most of my anger stemming from fright rather than annoyance. In the space of a few hours, Kye had committed an offence not just against one monarch, but two. "You don't just - "

A dry cough sounded. Kye-Ann's expression transformed into one of dark glee.

And the Princess that had been comatose for a thousand years slowly cracked her lids open, her brow furrowing slightly at the unwelcome glare of Kye-Ann's flashlight. Her eyes were hazel, reminding me of coffee on a cold morning, or cinnamon sprinkled on scones. On the outside of her irises was a faint ring of pale green-blue, like shallow water found at the beach or rockpools.

Her gaze drifted to ours, her eyes bleary from a millennium of sleep, and her mouth opened, curving upwards into what I believed was meant to be a smile. It may have been my imagination, but her canines seemed to be large and deadly sharp for a second - the next, her teeth were like that of a siren's.

"Princess," Kye-Ann bowed her head deeply. "I know you must be confused. Let me introduce us - "

"I know who you are," the Princess rasped. Her voice was deeper than what I had expected, but nevertheless, it was a child's voice. She couldn't be any older than the beginning of her teenage years.

A memory from earlier tugged at me. There had been an age in Kye-Ann's book. The Princess had been twelve when King Michael was overthrown and then executed, if I remembered correctly. And if Kye's inklings were right, the Princess would not have aged by even a day while asleep, which meant that she, after a thousand years, was still twelve.

Confusion flitted across Kye's features. "You do, Your Highness?"

The Princess nodded, struggling to push herself up into a sitting position. Her arms were so frail, so bony, and I found myself wrapping an arm around her back, propping her against me. She examined me, her eyes wary. I ducked my head at once in shameful apology and began to withdraw my arm, suddenly reminded that touching royalty was a crime.

Princess Georgina surprised me by grasping my forearm, keeping my arm where it was, as if she wanted the support. I shivered involuntarily - her hands were as cold as ice, and her fingernails were long, longer than most nails I'd seen, and each ended at a deadly point, as if the Princess were trying to mimic a monster's claws.