There were sirens everywhere. At the altar. Surrounding Rían’s boat. At the shore, eyeing her, Rory, and the remaining two royal guards. The aquatic faerie’s eyes were a swirl of green blue, with black vertical pupils that reminded her of when Chaz shifted into his beast. Their heads barely broke the surface of the water, with everything below their noses submerged, watching them like predators stalking their prey.
Jenaveve shivered, her heart racing as she kept volleying between the ogling sirens, who were barely a few yards away, and watching what was going on with Rían and the gleymt baby.
Rory grabbed the reins at the side of her horse, pulling Jenaveve closer to him. He whispered, “They’re just watching us to make sure we don’t do anything. You’re ok.”
“But is Rían ok?” she breat
