Free Siren Slave by Aurora Styles Page B

swilling ale. This is proof that this mare is in need of a saddle.”
    “I did not know you were given to jests, Pompey.” He snorted at the thought of a gently raised princess, growing up amidst all this finery, imbibing and placing bets.
    “I’m not jesting. She reeked of drink earlier. She’ll probably be glad to miss dinner for want of sleeping it off. She might be more able to see reason if she is not drunk. Don’t go too late, or she’ll be drunk again.”
    Swan had smelled of drink, too…and tasted of it. He’d talk with Freya but not try to win her affections, else another admirer would seek to tame him. Etainen could not be concerned with Freya any more than Siegfried could afford to be distracted by Swan. It should not be so difficult to guard himself from these women, not with Julia so fresh in his mind. Two years was fresh, was it not?
    There was a tentative rap on the door. Pompey called for the visitor to enter. A small woman with a winged band resting on the brightest blonde head he’d ever seen stepped through the door. Her lashes were lowered, and she worried her lip while knotting her fingers in a vivid purple toga. Tyrian purple. The toga wrapped around her slender body and high breasts, but her arms were bare, banded with abalone and a bandage. Another woman was behind her, a large-breasted woman with long, black hair. The high-heeled shoes of Egyptian prostitutes clacked under a black toga that managed to cling to every curve.
    “Um, Pompey?” The blonde made a nervous bow and almost tripped. She was limping. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I’ve been so out of sorts that I can’t think straight with the wedding coming up. Odilia and I don’t get along. I just didn’t want to see her, so I said what I said to make her angry. I guess I did want to see her, so I could use her as a scapegoat for my irritation. I think it’s funny when she turns that really weird shade of gray and then purple, like someone’s strangling her. The color even has its own name. Grurple.”
    This was Freya?
    “I was probably pretty convincing, too convincing,” Freya continued, tapping the corner of her lips. “I didn’t want you to be dragged into it. I have a way of needling people, you could say. But I don’t use actual needles, just words.” The strange explanations, the way the words tumbled from her mouth, the limp… It had not been Swan he’d met earlier. Or had it?
    “You were very convincing, indeed,” Pompey said, leaning forward to study her.
    “I was,” Freya said with a wide grin. “I was furious with her, but I directed that at you and my parents, like a spoiled child. If it seems silly, it’s because Odilia almost got me killed today. Almost getting killed has a way of ruining a nice morning.”
    Siegfried studied Freya. Was she lying? If anyone almost got her killed today, it was herself. Did she think him stupid?
    “Do tell.” Pompey took a swallow of his wine. Siegfried didn’t think he was making the connection between the prostitute and the princess. All the better that Pompey was ill.
    “I know I shouldn’t sneak out to market like that. But it’s helpful to know what the people are thinking. People’s tongues wag when they think their rulers aren’t listening. Dressed as a peasant leaves me open to hearing a lot. The truth is that I’m just as concerned about threats as you are. That’s why I sneak out like that. In fact, today I was hearing something very interesting when Odilia recognized me and started bellowing after me. You’re aware of the Druids? I mentioned them before.”
    “Druids?” Siegfried asked. No, there had been no mention of that at all, not to him. There were no Druids in Remi lands.
    “Oh, yes, Druids. I have a target painted on my back, or is it on my heart? I’m not sure where they’re actually aiming, because they hit my arm a few days ago.” She gave a nervous laugh. “But if I’m dressed as a peasant, they’re not going to