The Sartious Mage (The Rhythm of Rivalry) (32 page)

To my relief, Lisanda asked a question. “Will Kalli be safe on her own?”

I smiled as I felt some tension melt away. It looked like we would be ignoring what happened, which was fine with me.

“Definitely,” I answered. “She’s tough and good with a knife, but more importantly she knows how to take care of herself.”

Keeping her head low, Lisanda said, “Why is she so much friendlier with me now?”

“Kalli’s always that friendly. She blamed you for what happened at the farm, but I think she’s realized how wrong that was.”

I felt a small tingle of excitement just being able to speak with Lisanda again. I didn’t care what we talked about. Anything was better than the dreadful silence.

“I’m glad,” she said.

Though Lisanda’s voice was quiet, I still could hear its deep pitch and accent of nobility quite strongly. I’d grown to like her accent, not that I wanted to speak that way myself as it would just be silly coming from a farm boy like me. But it had a rhythmic cadence that made each word more of a delight.

But then her screams after the kiss came back to memory, and I realized her accent had the opposite effect when she was infuriated with me, causing each word to sting even worse.

While I took the time to reflect on her voice, the pause in our conversation turned into another dense silence. I quickly thought of something to say before it went on too long.

“Tell me more about your sister. The one your father almost had me marry.”

Her head snapped to me like I’d just insulted her but then conspicuously swung back to the trees ahead of us the moment our eyes met.

“I’d somehow forgotten about that.” She let out a breath, and I could see the surprise on her face turning into confusion. She looked up at me again. “Why didn’t you marry her? Most men would get itches in their britches at that opportunity. Did you worry she was ugly?”

A nervous laugh came out of me. We came to an opening where thick groups of plants dwelled in the absence of trees. The sun hit my skin with a burst of warmth.

Lisanda stopped for a moment to stretch her arms up and yawn, rising to her toes, then back to her heels with a relieving breath. It was the most graceful thing I’d seen in a long time.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” I answered. “I wanted the cure too much to think about anything else, and the offer of marriage just seemed like a way out of giving me what I was promised. So I demanded the cure instead.”

Lisanda started back into her casual stroll. “Do you regret it now?”

As I thought of an answer, I couldn’t help but notice the way the sun made her dark hair shine. I actually could see the brown in it in this light. The way it framed her face seemed to make her brown eyes glow.

“Well, if she’s anything like you, then…” I stopped myself. Panic came over me. I was about to tell her that I would’ve regretted not marrying Jessend if she was like her twin. What was I thinking?

Lisanda stopped to stare at me with a furrowed brow. I’m sure my face showed the panic I was feeling. It was too strong for me to hide.

“Never mind.” I waved my hands in hopes she would let it go. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s understandable.” Lisanda looked to the dirt. “I’ve been quite a nuisance.” She knelt down to pick up a smooth rock and started brushing the dirt from it.

Her comment made me realize I’d given her the exact opposite impression I’d meant. Lisanda thought I’d implied that I
would’ve
regretted marrying Jessend if she was like her sister. I contemplated correcting Lisanda, but she spoke again before I decided if I should.

“Jessend isn’t like me, though. I mean, we look similar, but she likes using the bow, walking through the city…even the dirty parts!” Lisanda shook her head in disbelief. “Jessend likes dangerous adventures and the outdoors. I prefer being where I can wear pretty clothes, stay clean, hear good music, read, and gossip with friends, I’ll admit it. As petty as it is, I love it.” Lisanda sighed. “Surprisingly, you two might get along.”

Truthfully, the idea of a less-refined version of Lisanda wasn’t appealing. That sounded too much like Kalli for me, but I found no reason to delve deeper into the conversation. No good could come of talking about Jessend and me being together.

“Are these things what you’ll be doing with your husband? Wearing pretty clothes and gossiping?”

Lisanda rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what Varth Farro has planned for me, probably torturing me with every new song he’s working on.”

“Bastial hell, he composes, too?”

She laughed bitterly. “Yes, and it’s just as bad as you’d imagine.” She let the rock drop from her hands just before we entered the shade beneath the trees once again. “I made the mistake of telling him I love music when we met last year.”

“A year ago? I figured he’d just started singing. How long has he been doing it then?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes turned and lifted to me. I saw a wry smile beneath them. “Too long.”

I laughed wholeheartedly, and with it came out all the tension that had built within me. I remembered something.

“You said you would sing for me. Will you now?” Without even choosing to do so, my body leaned toward her and bumped her arm playfully.

The other corner of her mouth lifted, but she turned to hide her face. “I’m not as good as you.” She leaned into me, giving me a harder but still playful shove.

“I’m sure you’re great.” The way the sun kissed the golden brown skin of her bare shoulder reminded me of a song. “Do you know
Golden Girl
?”

She brushed her hair over her ear, letting her slender neck catch the sun as well. “I know it, but I’ve never sung it.”

It was a strange concept to me to know a song but never sing it. I would’ve asked how that was, but I could sense that any chance Lisanda had to turn the conversation away from my request to sing would be pounced on like a cat waiting outside a mouse hole.

The thought of Exo killing my cat Rubble abruptly bubbled up from wherever it was buried and squelched my excitement. I could feel myself moving to a dark place with other dreadful thoughts emerging. They were tied to Exo like links in a chain. I could feel myself starting to drift out of reality, going deeper into my worries.

Sannil was in The Nest, and he shouldn’t be there alone. Soon, he would be delivering my note to a guard. Surely, they wouldn’t let him leave so easily. The worry of it sat atop my heart, heavy.

Thoughts of Kory came next. The ache of my heart became heavier, and soon guilt started twisting its way into my stomach as well. Even though I knew it couldn’t all be my fault, it was impossible not to wonder if everything would’ve been better if I’d just left the Takary Palace in peace.

“You’re terribly quiet.” Curiosity dangled on Lisanda’s words. It made her sound wistful, but in a restrained way, as if she didn’t want to reveal that she cared whether or not I continued.

I’d lost all interest in hearing her sing, at least right then. I didn’t know what to tell her. She finally was smiling again. There was no reason to bring her down to my level of heartache by expressing my woes to her.

I knew this dark feeling would pass soon; I just didn’t know how to make it happen quicker. But she still was waiting for me to say something. I couldn’t let the silence become so heavy again.

Finally I just blurted, “I’m sorry,” completely unsure how she would take it.

Lisanda looked up at me from the corner of her eye. I didn’t return her look but kept my eyes where they wanted to stay—at the green grass far ahead.

She looked at me for a long while. It felt like she was burning a hole in my face. She didn’t ask why I was apologizing. She didn’t even ask why I’d given up trying to get her to sing. Instead, she turned back to glance at the grass ahead of us and surprised me by clearing her throat and starting to sing.

Her deep, womanly voice really came out as she started the first line of
Golden Girl
. Her tone was rich in flavor, like a strong cup of coffee, and her accent added a touch of spice to it. Altogether, it gave her a seductive sound that sent a chill through my body.

Lisanda glided through each line of the song effortlessly, as if she’d sung it a hundred times. There was nothing ordinary about her tone. It wavered beautifully between pitches. It was so original I clung to each word just to hear how she would sing it.

Though her voice was otherworldly to me, her face showed none of the confidence I expected to see when I turned to her. She seemed consumed by worry, like the wrong note was approaching any moment.

I didn’t understand it. The way she sang was unreal, the way I’d imagined fairies singing in stories. But then she used the wrong word—“on” instead of “in.” And then she skipped a verse, making it so the last rhyme was never resolved.

Nonetheless, her voice carried on with the same strength, and relief replaced the budding tension in my head. She’d definitely had a lot of training to be able to continue as she did. Fighting through a mistake to make it look planned is one of the harder things to learn.

Golden Girl
was about a little girl who was the youngest of four sisters. Each had a special trait, except her.

One could dance smoother than the rays of a low sun glimmering along a lake. Another could sing with more ethereal beauty than the bright moon in the starry black sky. And the third could play the strings with more grace than the wind soaring over the ground.

The three of them together were welcomed in the highest courts of the noblest men. But this left nothing for the youngest—the “golden girl,” as she was nicknamed when she was born, for she was the only one with blond hair and was expected to outshine the rest.

Golden Girl was skilled at dancing, but not as exceptionally as her eldest sister. She was a great singer, but nothing near her second eldest sister. She could play any stringed instrument with ease, but that role already was taken, and she didn’t get a chance to practice, for it only made her last sister jealous.

She tried more academic routes, studying under the best tutors, but quickly found everything in books to be more difficult to learn than the most complicated dance routines. She tried her luck with magic, only to fail in miserable frustration. Years passed and her family’s expectations of her lessened, causing her determination to grow even more.

By the time Lisanda got near the end of the song, her voice still hadn’t quieted in the least. But I felt the need to encourage her, especially from the way her eyes were squinted as if she was disgusted with herself.

Yet, I refrained. I didn’t want to interrupt her with a compliment that could wait until the song was finished. Listening to her sing while the sun pierced through the trees of the forest gave me a luxurious feeling for which I’d longed for a year but didn’t know I wanted until now. This is what the city never had for me, this feeling of belonging, of deep comfort. I was lost in the beauty of our surroundings, of her voice, and especially of her.

That’s when I knew what to do. I felt stupid I hadn’t thought of it earlier.

I joined her in song, harmonizing my voice to give an even richer flavor to the sound. It was like the perfect sauce on a fine cut of meat. She stuttered just for a moment when I began but quickly found her voice and flashed her white teeth at me in a smile as she sang.

We finished the song together. The melody was simple, not very catchy, but moving. The only reason the song wasn’t one of my favorites was because of the ending. It wasn’t sad, that I wouldn’t have minded. It was somewhat strange and in such a specific way it made me wonder if it was supposed to be based on a true story.

Golden Girl traveled to Meritar, home of the Elves, in her quest to become the best at something. The Elves were impressed with her ability to dance, sing, and play a variety of instruments, and they soon welcomed her into their culture.

This part didn’t strike me as being disconnected from the rest of the song so much, not yet. It was the final verse that never sat right in my diaphragm after I sang it, feeling like I’d eaten something still alive.

Golden Girl learned not only the secrets of psyche, but also that she was exceptionally skilled at using it. She stayed in Meritar with the Elves for years, becoming a powerful psychic.

Eventually, she returned home to find that everyone who loved her was now in fear of her ability with psyche. She was cast out, leaving her hometown, never to return.

I’d never met a psychic, so I had my doubts about whether psyche really existed. The Elves and the desmarls were part of history. Everyone knew they were real, even though most never had seen one.

But psyche was different. Psyche had no part of history. It was so disconnected, not only to the song, but also to the world I knew.

The tales that helped demonstrate and explain the present world were always the easiest to believe: the desmarls pushing civilization to the center of the continent, the Elves’ lack of help in the Bastial Steel War causing resentment.

It was the ideas that didn’t fit right in the world that curdled my stomach at the thought of believing them. And psyche didn’t fit, not at all. It was too strange—too unexplained. The thought of being able to manipulate others’ emotions made my skepticism lash out furiously. At least one psychic would be in a position of power if they really existed.