Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (23 page)

For a moment I felt bad for him. He’d spent an entire year surrounded by yes-men and women. I could see how that would be lonely. Fortunately, I could talk to Marin and Glenn to gain some perspective. Sometimes they drove me crazy, but at least I knew they were genuine.

Then something else occurred to me. “Yesterday,” I said slowly, “with Glenn here—”

He shook his head, “Yeah. That damn elf.”

I whipped my head up to him, “You
know
he’s an elf?”

“Of course I do.” He sounded almost offended, “I have eyes.”

“But I told you—”

Score smiled, “When you told me to ignore him, I played along. I don’t want him to know I’m a siren.”

“Why does it matter?” I asked, blushing again. I’d assumed that I was being slick, but he knew I was trying to manipulate his perception the whole time.

“The letter… it said to avoid the other magical people— they’re dangerous, and I’ll be hunted down.” He furrowed his brows, “It’s been right about everything else, so I’m not risking it.” He grabbed one of my hands, squeezing it, “You’re the only one who can know about me, Sarah.”

I shook my head, “I don’t know, Will.”

“Please.” He closed his eyes, “
Please
call me Score.”

“Okay…
Score
… I…” I thought I should tell Marin and Glenn about him. If the council knew he existed, they could get him under protection like I was. But he looked so hopeful, so trusting, all I could do was sigh. “Yeah. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Good.” He rubbed his forehead. “Thank you… I’m sorry for how this all came out. I wanted to play for you, to make it less of a shock. More of a… happy surprise? I hope?”

I smiled in spite of myself. Unless he was completely lying to me, it seemed like he meant well. “If… if you really
are
like me, I guess I’m glad I’m not alone.”

He looked relieved. “I suppose I can skip the human instruments,” he said, glancing at the red guitar on his bed. Score picked it up and looked at it with admiration. “This was always one of my favorites. I bought it in Italy last summer, had it made for me…” I felt my brows raise. What sort of life did Score live? It felt extravagant. “But even a master craftsman can’t compete with siren work,” he said. He replaced it on the wall and walked to the corner, towards the guitar he’d described earlier as his favorite.

He hauled it, case and all, to the bed. He kept glancing at me, as if he wanted to catch my reaction when he opened it. I folded my arms over my chest skeptically.

Snap, snap. He unlatched it, swinging the case open. My heart leapt into my throat, my breath catching.

It was a rich wood, carved out in designs as complex as my own dulcimer. I’d conditionally accepted what Score had been telling me, but looking at this instrument, I believed him— he truly was another siren.

He picked it up and turned it over, allowing me to examine the intricate carvings. On the back was a bird with open wings. A sun was behind it, and I marveled at how similar it was to the bird carved in my dulcimer. It was gorgeous. My fingers twitched as I reached out for it involuntarily.

I pulled back hastily, looking into his eyes with guilt. “May I?” I asked softly.

He grinned, grabbing the hand I’d tucked back. He pressed it gently into the wood, looking into my eyes. “Anytime, Sarah…”

Running my fingers over the designs, I picked up the guitar carefully. Placing it gently on my lap, a warmth settled into my stomach. I sighed contentedly, surprised at my reaction.

“Do you have an instrument?” he asked me reverently.

I nodded, my eyes still transfixed by the guitar. “Yes… a dulcimer.” I tore my gaze from the instrument. He looked confused, so I raised a brow questioningly.

“I just… expected something more… contemporary.”

I smiled. A dulcimer did seem a bit old-world, but it was mine. He’d just have to see it, that’s all.

My fingers brushed across the strings. The tune and pitch was as perfect as my dulcimer’s was.

“Would you like to play it?” he asked me, tilting his head a little.

I smiled, shaking my head. I
did
have the desire to play, but I wouldn’t. I’d never play or sing again. It was too dangerous. “No, thank you.”

He looked surprised, but accepted my answer without pushing me. “Then… would you like to hear me play?”

I nodded. It’d be so wonderful to hear music that didn’t make me cringe. He pulled the instrument from me, drawing it into his own arms. He sat perched at the edge of the bed. His hands cradled the guitar, and I could see with my gifted siren eyes that his form was relaxed but good.

Score started slow, but precisely, working the strings into a simple melody. I closed my eyes, leaning back on the bed, letting the sound envelop me. I took several deep breaths, feeling the tension draining from my shoulders. It was nice. Better than nice— it was necessary. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed music.

The pace shifted, picking up, and the melody changed into something bright and happy. The chords became more complex, but the strings were his play-thing. I opened my eyes, watching him. Score was radiant. His eyes were shut, and he was smiling, letting himself go.

After what seemed like too brief a time, he finished. Wordlessly, he replaced the guitar within its case, snapping it shut. I sighed wistfully as he closed the lid, sad to see the beautiful instrument tucked away again.

“I’d sing, too, but my parents are home, and—” he began softly.

My pulse sped up, “No, it’s okay! I— I wouldn’t want you to, anyway.”

“Oh?” he sounded surprised.

I bit my lip. “Our singing… it’s dangerous magic.” I shook my head, “I’d rather not.”

“Oh…” he said again. He didn’t press it.

I peeked up at him, curious. “Have you
really
been keeping yourself a secret for over a year now?”

He grinned, “Yes.”

I felt a surge of jealousy within my belly. I’d only wanted to be left alone, to be as invisible as possible. No matter how much I’d tried, every eye had been on me immediately following my birthday. “How?” I asked him, “How do you do it? I said one word during class, and I’d captivated the room. Stacie confronted me— she knew what happened before I did.” I looked at the wall of guitars. The room was dim, mostly illuminated by his computer monitors. Dusk had set in. Between the waning light of day and the thick clouds, the skylight only brightened the room slightly.

Score narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me. “Didn’t you have any idea it would happen?”

I frowned, clasping my hands tightly together. “No. How
could
I have?”

His eyes flickered over to the four pages of siren lettering sitting on his nightstand. “When I got
my
inheritance, the letter had…” He shook his head, “But you can’t read siren language, can you? Your birth parents wouldn’t have spelled it out in English.” He stood up, moving his guitar case back to the corner. He glanced over at me, “Did you get anything at all?”

I shrugged, “I got my dulcimer and a few other baubles. I did get a letter, but it just said my parents loved me and hinted at
changes
.” I snorted, feeling a little bitter. Next to Score, I’d been hopelessly unprepared for everything.

He let out a sympathetic sound from the bottom of his throat. “I’m sorry, Sarah. You didn’t even know…” He sighed, “It’s not that hard to harmonize with humanity, if you’re careful to control your voice.”

I stared at him, bewildered, “Control it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s really not difficult if you know what you’re doing…” He was thoughtful, “I could teach you some things.”

I stopped breathing, then shook my head adamantly. “No! That’s okay, but…”

I glanced at him. I wanted to ask if he knew a way to cure people dazzled by siren song, but I didn’t want to have to go into the details of
why
I wanted to know. I wanted him to think I was innocent, to think I was good for a while— not that I was a horrible monster who’d made two good people who loved her go insane.

He was waiting for me to finish the sentence, his brows raising in an unspoken question.

“…I’m glad I met you,” I finished lamely.

Score grinned, “I’m glad to have met you, too, Sarah…” He scratched the back of his neck, “So if you can’t read siren language, you probably don’t know your real name, either.”

I shrugged, “I guess not.”

“It’ll probably be on your instrument,” he said. “I can tell you if you want to bring it over sometime.”

I nodded, but then my heart sank. Groaning, I fell back on his bed. “Next time, Glenn will insist on being here, though.”

“What is
with
that elf?” Score said, exasperated. “Why is he always just… right there? Do you know how hard it’s been to get you alone long enough to even get to know you, to even decide—” He stopped talking, shaking his head, frustrated.

“He’s my bodyguard,” I said carefully. “He keeps me safe.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you even
need
a bodyguard?” I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. His breath caught. “My letter was right, wasn’t it? We really
are
in danger when magical people know we’re sirens, aren’t we?”

I didn’t want to alarm him, so I just rolled away. I inhaled his scent from the bed. I didn’t know what it was about him that was so alluring to me, but… I shivered.

“Sarah…”

I sighed, turning to face him. “Yeah. It’s true. But no matter what you might think about Glenn, he’s saved my life a couple times already,” I said affectionately.

“If you’ve been attacked…” he said, rubbing his chin. “Everything in my letter has been right.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting up.

“It told me that after I found you…” He grabbed my hands in his, staring into my eyes with conviction. “We’re supposed to be hidden. We’re supposed to run away together.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The Realm

I blanched. “We can’t
run away
together!”

He frowned, still gripping my hands, but looking away. “The letter…”

I pulled from him, “I don’t even
know
you, Score.” I gestured to the pages of siren writing, “My parents didn’t leave
me
anything, that’s for sure.” It bothered me, in fact— especially knowing that Score had been so prepared for his own transformation into a siren.

Score stared at the wall, at the guitars. He was quiet for a long moment, contemplative. After a while, his mood seemed to shift. He nodded, smiling brightly, “Okay. Okay.” Taking a deep breath, he pulled his hands from mine. “So… you probably have questions?”

I leaned over, grabbing the siren letter. I turned it in my hands. “What
else
did this say?” I asked.

He flushed, snatching the pages from my hands quickly. “Mostly just stuff about the transition, what to prepare for.” He stared at his feet, his cheeks still pink. “A bit of sentiment, too. Basic parental ‘I love yous’…” He chewed on his lip.

I had the odd feeling that he was keeping something from me. I wondered if that letter was what he claimed. I pressed him, “That’s it? It’s four pages.”

Score just shrugged, “it went over how to dress when I turned, how to control my voice. Just… what to expect—” He looked at me, “The day before I turned sixteen, I was so sick… was it the same for you?”

“Yes.” I said, nodding. I had to smile— it was nice to talk to someone who could relate. “It was terrible. I actually threw up on Stacie’s shoes.”

He laughed at that. “I’m sure that couldn’t have gone over well. She has quite a reputation.” He peered at me curiously, “Why are you friends with that girl? She seems so… different from you.”

“She is,” I agreed, nodding. “But she’s—” I stopped talking, wondering if it was a betrayal to tell him about Marin being a mermaid. Somehow, I didn’t think so. She wasn’t the type to keep it a secret from another extra. I shrugged, “She’s a mermaid princess, actually.”

His brows raised. “A mermaid? But she looks so human.”

I took another sip of water. “She does. But trust me— I’ve seen it. She has a tail, scales, gills… the whole nine yards.”

“Maybe
that’s
why she’s so popular,” he said thoughtfully, leaning back. “I couldn’t really tell. I asked around, trying to learn about you. She’s incredibly powerful on the social hierarchy, but it’s not like people
love
her. They’re mostly afraid of her.”

I could believe that, but getting to know her more recently shed new light on Marin. I smiled. “She can be a little harsh, but she really does have a heart of gold.” I glanced up at him. “She’s the reason we aren’t being chaperoned right now. She was supposed to be watching me, making sure I wasn’t going to get into any trouble. Instead, she let me have the time with you.”

“Then I guess I’m indebted to her,” Score said, crossing his ankles. “Is it true you live with her?”

I didn’t want to talk about my foster family, so I just nodded. I gulped the water down, giving myself a moment to figure out what I wanted to say. Eventually, I replied, “Yeah. I’m— and you are too, I guess— an endangered species. So she’s making sure I’m okay.”

“Don’t you miss your parents?” he asked, sounding concerned.

I took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “Actually, I’ve never been adopted. I’ve just been in the system since my parents died.”

“What?” He sounded taken aback, “I mean— I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, not wanting sympathy. I didn’t deserve it, not after what I did to my foster family. “Don’t be,” I said, “I don’t really remember having parents. It’s normal to me.”

There was a silence then. While it felt like I should be asking a question, or maybe he should, it was surprisingly comfortable. Maybe it was the simple recognition that he was like me—that I could be myself, that he understood better than anyone else possibly could— that made it so natural.

After a long while, he turned to me. He sounded reluctant, “When do you have to go?”