Siren's Song (33 page)

“Ask him yourself.”

“As you know, he's rather silent about certain things. But he must've had something you craved. Or was it simply love?”

She opens her mouth. Shuts it. Finally, “He was more my counterpart than you can imagine. Even in ability. Where I can destroy . . .”

“He can—what?”

Her lips clamp shut again in an expression that says I'll not get more. “At least help me understand what you and he had together.”

She scoffs. “So you can have something similar? Or perhaps in your pathetic mind—better? Trust me, darling, neither of you will last long enough to find out.”

I keep my hand through the bars as a sign I mean no offense. Because suddenly I don't. If anything, the only thing I feel is compassion. For the fact that every love she's known has eventually left her. Or is about to.

“About that . . . Do you think we're the only Uathúils left your father needs?”

“After the Cashlin queen, yes.”

I lean in. “And that's what you think—that he'll come for me once he's consumed them?”

Her mouth twists along with her gaze, but there's a hesitancy behind it.

I swallow and continue holding out my hand. “Because it seems to me there's one missing factor you may have overlooked.”

She turns and flicks a hand up as if uninterested in my speech even as her body tension says she's straining to listen.

“Your father needs each royal Uathúil from all five kingdoms. Except, who's the one from your land? Aren't the Mortisfaire tied to Drust?”

She stops and, from the side, I see her face pale so slowly I almost miss it, but the ash color emerges. Stealing the color from her cheeks, her lips, her throat. She turns.

I nod and slide a finger down the bars to her cage. “If I had to guess, I'd say that Uathúil was your mother.”

“The Mortisfaire he consumed was head of our order. She was the first he took for power.”

I shrug. “Interesting.” And start to turn. “Only . . . don't you think—?”

“Don't I think what?” she growls.

I flip around. “I was merely wondering if he's ever shown you those abilities. Has he been able to do what you can do? Or what your mother can do, for that matter? Have you seen him turn a person's heart to stone?”

“Go to hulls.”

But the undertone is so tight, so slick, she might as well be confessing I punched her in the gut.
Oh litches.
She's really never thought of this. I peer closer at her and see the fear slowly register. The confusion.

“I only hope for your sake he takes your mum instead of you.”

She lunges at the bars, grabs my shirt, and shoves her hand against my chest. Then starts to yank away, but not before I feel the thing I've been probing for. Her ability. It's there. It's already reacting to my own blood in her attempt to harden my veins.

I don't move. Just let her sense the beat beat beat of my heartpulse that feels nothing more than pity for her in this moment.

Her mouth goes straight as she pulls her hand back. “If my father didn't need you, I'd have killed you by now.”

“I'm sorry,” I say, and my voice cracks the slightest. For the life she's about to lose.
“Mercy grows hearts more than bitterness, Nym.”

Her face softens. Her hand against my skin weakens. She pulls away and looks at me with eyes full of fear. Of grief.

After a moment she turns and says quietly to the wall of her cell, “Have Princess Rasha focus Myles in on his innermost thoughts, not on interrupting the images. Those are merely the consequences, not the root. Tell her to train him at the root.”

“Did you just—?”

“Yes, and you're welcome. Now please leave me.”

I am about to reply with a thank-you when Kel's voice rings out above the steadily growing whirring sound of engines. “The airships are back! My father's returned!”

CHAPTER 31

K
ING SEDRIC, ROLF, THE LUMINESCENTS
surrounding Rasha, Eogan, Kel, and me, along with a number of councilmen and guards, are waiting in the War Room when Kenan arrives.

He enters with a few soldiers. The air in my lungs catches at the sight of his haggard face. “Your Highnesses.”

A quiet gasp beside me indicates Kel's seen his father, and then he's running for the large man who, rather than giving the characteristic gripping of the boy's shoulder, actually stoops to hug him.

I look away.

“It is with much relief and joy I find you returned and well.” Eogan bounds over to pat Kenan on the back and, with that movement, expresses what the rest of us in the room feel. It's as if the tension hanging over us for days is given a slight reprieve and the men within visibly relax.

Sedric offers the room's available chairs.

“I'll stand, thanks, or I'm likely to fall asleep.” Eogan's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“As will I,” Kenan says. “I assume the fact that we're all here means we each accomplished our missions.” He's looking at Eogan when he says this and is rewarded by a nod from his king.

“We found Rasha,” Eogan murmurs.

“And in good health, I see.” Kenan bows to the princess. “And what of other airships? I've brought a few back with me, but have any more crossed the channel?”

“Only those Nym took down and the one Eogan returned on,” Sedric says. “Although we clearly expect more now that they appear to have targets in mind and their forces in motion.” He eyes me. “Although, aside from Nym's watchfulness and skill with the sky, I'm not sure what defense we have from them. If they will, in fact, be Draewulf's first offense.”

“They will. I'm certain of it.” Eogan peers over at me. “It's what I would do were I him.”

“How much time do you think we have?”

Eogan glances at Rasha, to which she answers, “Three more days at the most.”

He nods. “I know his forces were chasing me, but I assume they also purposefully took out our warboats in order to ferry his forces over using boats from Cashlin.”

“Then Nym should head for the coast to stop them as they come.”

“They'll have innocents in them.” How I know this is beyond me, but my mouth goes dry at the awareness of it. I turn to Sedric. “It's what I would do. And Draewulf knows me too well.”

Eogan nods his agreement. “We may not have much of a choice, though.”

I raise a brow and stare him down. “There's always a choice. I believe you're the one who used to teach that.”

“Eogan's right,” Sedric interrupts. “They'll all be dead sooner or later if we don't act.” He glances at Rasha for confirmation.

“I believe so, yes.”

I bite back my comment. How could they be so matter-of-fact about it? At least show a little remorse before making such a decision.

“I believe the sooner we can get you to the coast, the better.” Sedric waits for me to look at him before continuing. “Can you be ready to leave within a few hours? You should take whatever you'll need since . . .”

Since I won't be coming back.

I nod and try not to look at Eogan.

“However, before you go . . .” Sedric turns to the Bron king. “Can you brief us on the situation in Bron? And will there be more soldiers or airships on the way?”

His tone is so hopeful it almost drags the tension back into the room.

Kenan runs a hand over his unshaved face and peers across the war map at Eogan. “First off I should tell you that Lord Percy and Lady Gwen are still alive, albeit locked in small quarters. Aside from that, I don't know whether this is a positive or negative, but my going to Bron has set off an underground war.”

He looks at Rasha. “I fear because of this I was unable to bring back anything more than the two extra airships and all the soldiers they could hold.” Then he turns to Sedric. “My apologies, Your Highness, but if Eogan's people were to stand a chance at forming a resistance movement, they needed all the manpower they could get. I was able, through meetings and influential sources, to give them the motivation and freedom they needed to pursue such a task. But I could not in good conscience take more from their needed numbers.”

“No apology necessary,” Sedric says, and even I can tell he's trying to keep the sound of defeat from his voice. “Your people are your king's priority and it is as it should be. What will come will come.”

Eogan bows his head, says, “Thank you, Kenan,” then looks at me. “Any luck with gathering forces among Faelen?”

“Not so far.”

“But they'll come,” one of the council members butts in. “One way or another. We've just sent out runners and enforcers an hour ago.”

I turn to the man. And again that sensation of being appalled while totally understanding his stance washes over me. It makes me feel ill.

I clear my throat and set a hand on the giant map before interrupting the kings. “In the meantime you should both know Isobel's ability is returning.”

They stall midconversation and Sedric raises a brow. “It's what? How did you hear of this? How did you—?”

Eogan doesn't seem surprised.

“I believe it to be the case as well,” Rasha adds, and behind her Mia and Mel nod.

“I was also able to discover that while we were still in Bron, Draewulf had his wife killed.” Kenan's voice is quiet. “Presumably in an attempt to take her Mortisfaire power. Although I was told he was unsuccessful. Something about her having made too many alterations over the years . . .”

I freeze. And let the air build up in my throat before exhaling.

“Then Draewulf will need Isobel,” I whisper.

The two kings and both their right-hand men swerve their attention my way. “And you know this how?” Rolf asks, not unpolitely.

I don't know how to explain it, but I've rarely been so certain of anything in my life. In my blood. In my head.

“In that case, it'd be wise to keep her as far from the battlefield as possible,” Sedric says.

“Can we spare the men needed to watch her?” Rolf interjects.

“We'll have to.” I look at Sedric. “Your Majesty, if you'll excuse me, I believe you can do without me now. I would like to pack and prepare for the coastal trip you spoke of. I'll be ready to leave when you send a unit to my room.”

“Of course, yes. And thank you.” The king tips his head, but it's clear he's still distracted by the conversation regarding Lady Isobel. He promptly resumes asking Eogan questions as well as inviting the Luminescents to fill in details from what they've learned.

I give Rasha's hand a squeeze and leave them to head for my room to pack two sets of blue leathers, extra boots, and a hair comb.

Once finished, I braid my long white tresses and settle in to sit by the window—to search the sky and landscape for more airships as Sedric requested.

After a half hour nothing new has appeared and I'm just eyeing the four airships being worked on when a knock on the door startles me.

“Come in.” I stand to grab my bag for the soldiers.

Eogan walks in looking a bit unsure whether he's allowed to or not. The next moment he's shut the door and strides toward me with hands tucked into his pockets. “I thought you'd like to know I peeked in on Lord Myles a few minutes ago. Princess Rasha has been able to ease his visions enough to give him sleep.”

I stare at Eogan. At this man who knows me so well that he's aware of how much I'd care about something so simple—about a man I loathe. More than that, Eogan's aware I'd want to know.

I swallow. “Thanks.”

“From the sound of his visions, I take it your time travelling the villages didn't go quite as planned.”

I look away.

“You saw an old owner.”

I wave a hand toward the far-off forest that's melting into fog banks. “It doesn't matter.”

“It does to me.”

The tension, the fury in his tone, is simultaneously scary and severely romantic. I blink and force the heat in my neck down.

“That whole thing with rallying the people . . .” I look at the glimpses of empty roads stretching in multiple directions. “Apparently it's not what I'm cut out for.”

He shakes his head, but before he can argue, I lift a hand.

“The thing is”—I swerve my gaze down to my boots—“I'm not sure whether I'm worried or relieved they're not coming.” I run a finger over the itching vein in my wrist. The one that's still got the poison in it.

He steps closer until he's standing beside me, staring out the window too. “So you wouldn't be responsible for their deaths. Except . . .”

I nod and he waits until I glance up at him to continue. “Either way they're most likely going to die. Allowing them to participate in fighting for what they value is you honoring them, not leading them to their demise.”

“I know.”

“Would it make a difference to you? To be given the choice?”

“Of course, but I have abilities that—”

“No, you have honor. And free choice. Which is what everyone deserves.” The way he says it—the way he looks at me—makes me wonder if we're still talking about war or . . .

He glances away before I can read more from his gaze. He runs a hand through his black hair, pushing his bangs back so they look gorgeous and his eyes greener. I inhale and curse him under my breath for whatever his hang-up is that is keeping us separated by so little distance and yet so much space.

“Why'd you really go back for Rasha?” I ask.

“I told you. Because we need her.”

“Why else?”

He purses his mouth and stares at me a moment before uttering a swear. “Why are you asking?”

Because I want to know you. I want to know what's going on inside of you.

I want to know what you're still so afraid of.

I shrug. “Does it matter? Just tell me.”