Siren Slave by Aurora Styles Page A

true.
    “I’ll put extra guards on the storage areas, men I trust,” Pompey said.
    “I sent word to the cook,” Freya said. “Bertha. She’s going to make you a special brew to make you feel better. It might even be in your chambers by now.”
    “Thank you, Freya,” Pompey said. “By the way, you aren’t supposed to wear purple.”
    Freya glanced at Hedwig, leaning against the wall, a hand resting on the curve of an ample hip, low-lidded gaze fixed on Pompey. “I said she’s wearing purple. I burned that hideous piece of rubbish she was going to wear. If you want to take it up with me, feel free, Pompey. You could try to…discipline me.” She licked her lips and gave her hips a shake.
    This made Pompey’s eyes glaze. “I might have to take you up on that offer. But, Freya, that color—”
    “I can explain,” Freya said. “Hedwig knows purple looks best on me. Especially Tyrian purple. See how it brings out the frosty tones in my hair? No other shade does it like that. But I was having some concerns, losing sleep, especially with the Druids trying to kill me.”
    “What do Druids and Tyrian purple have to do with each other?” Siegfried asked.
    Freya sighed and rolled her eyes. “Isn’t the connection obvious? People always say you can’t take anything with you when you die. But people always say they see ghosts wearing clothing. I imagine it’d be really awkward if ghosts pranced around naked. Could you imagine waking up to some warrior standing over your bed, cock dangling? You might laugh or you might be afraid. But back to the actual point…I’ve concluded that ghosts are seen wearing the last thing they wore in life.”
    “That…makes sense?” Pompey said.
    “Right,” Freya said happily. “So if the Druids are successful, I want to wear Tyrian purple and a toga, because I just love Rome, forever and ever. I want people to think I’m the ghost of some long-dead Roman nobility. I thought about wearing one of those leafy crown things, too, but I can’t remember if they’re Greek or Roman.” She shrugged. “So, I settled on this winged band. This is why I’m wearing the toga. In case I die. So, I hope you’ll relent so I can sleep better and honor Rome in my death.”
    Pompey was nodding at her indulgently and admiring both of the women. Siegfried had no idea how to react to Freya’s…logic. If that was the right word for it.
    “I also wanted you to know that I think it’s really great, everything that Rome’s doing. In fact, I sleep better at night, a lot better at night, knowing that Rome’s protecting me from things like pirates.” She gave a whimsical sigh, her dark eyes turning glassy. “Rome, the beacon of freedom and justice, a bastion of civilization…”
    There was just no way she was faking that. She droned on and on and on. Rome was this and that and everything “good and right.” She rambled on about their beautiful clothing, about how she admired Pompey for his work with pirates, and even complimented those ridiculous helmets.
    “So, I hope you’ll forgive me,” she finally concluded.
    “Yes,” her handmaiden said, though Siegfried doubted she was a maiden. “That Odilia’s a stupid bitch. She’s just jealous, because you’re cute and you’re marrying that what’s-his-name.”
    “Oh, Hedwig, you haven’t met Etainen. This is my betrothed,” Freya said, gesturing at him. He wondered if Freya realized they hadn’t been officially introduced.
    Freya grabbed Siegfried’s hands then. “I just know we’re going to be so happy together.” If her smile got any bigger, he thought her face would crack. “We have so much in common already. I can’t wait to talk to you about all things Rome.” She squealed in excitement, bouncing on her heels.
    Hedwig steadied her before she fell.
    If Freya would just keep silent, Siegfried thought she’d be pretty enough. He doubted silence was something she did very often. Hopefully she’d mind her silence when he