Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (29 page)

I thought about it, imagining myself in his situation. Would I be willing to lose Score, now that I knew him?

No, not a chance. If it were me, I’d be trying to push him, too.

But I couldn’t give him the response he wanted. I turned to him, searching the color of his eyes. Forest green, bleeding into pink at the edges. What did that mean?

I deflected, “What were things like before me?”

“Lonely, flat… meaningless…” the last word was a harsh whisper.

I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths, feeling dizzy. The sun had dipped below the horizon sometime when we were dancing. It was cold now, and the wind picked up, making it brisk.

Noticing me shiver, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I slumped into him. It wouldn’t be hard to pack up everything and leave with him, not really. If Score felt even marginally as comfortable with me as I did with him, we’d get along fine on our own. It’d be as easy as falling, or breathing— but I still couldn’t do it. It’d be cowardly to leave my foster parents comatose because I was selfish and scared.

Score sighed, leaning back. He dug into his shirt, retrieving something shiny. A ring, hanging from a chain around his neck.

He gestured to it. I plucked it up between my fingers, turning it over. It was beautiful, feminine: a delicate platinum band with two small triangular diamonds flanking a brilliant oval opal.

“It’s the one siren keepsake I haven’t shown you,” he said quietly. “The last thing I received from my birth parents.”

I smiled, looking at it.

His eyes met mine, “I think…” he turned away, “it was my mother’s, maybe?”

“It’s pretty,” I said, nodding. It certainly wouldn’t suit Score, which explained why he wore it on a chain around his neck, beneath his clothes. He tucked it away, chewing on his lip. We stared out at the water together.

We sat in our usual comfortable silence, his fingers brushing through my hair for a long while. Finally, he said, “Will you consider the
possibility
of learning how to control your voice, Lyra?” I turned my gaze to him. His eyes were a rose pink.

I nodded. “I— I’ll think about it, Score.”

His hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. He leaned in. My stomach tumbled around, nervous for what was coming. I’d felt butterflies before, but at that moment I was dealing with hummingbirds, or maybe even pterodactyls. I sat rigidly, expecting my first kiss. I wanted it, but I didn’t know what to do. He came closer and closer to me, then—

A chirping erupted, and he pulled back. His eyes shifted to dark purple. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Your phone, Lyra.”

I felt numb, pulling it out, clicking it. My alarm. Our time was up. “I… we need to get back now,” I said regretfully. I wondered if we could pick up where we’d left off, but the magic of the moment had been severed. Maybe it was a sign.

He stood up, offering his hand to me. “I guess I’ll see you at school?”

I nodded, biting my lip, feeling a stab of regret. Then I remembered, groaning. “Marin— Stacie— wants to double date this weekend.”

Score smiled. “And you said?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “I told her I’d ask you.”

“That… might not be a bad idea,” he said suddenly, looking thoughtful. He nodded, “I’m in.”

“What?” I asked him, incredulous. “If we’re around other people we can’t possibly—”

“It’ll be fine,” he said soothingly. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “She’ll just keep asking if you say no.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Spirit Trial

I spent that evening studying. I chewed my lip, reading about the Realm, learning that it was connected to the Overworld geographically, but that the geography didn’t really matter. As I tried desperately to wrap my head around it, Glenn cleared his throat.

“You haven’t asked me a single question,” he said, some levity in his voice, “and after I’ve given you
three
.”

I smiled, happy that Glenn was treating me more like a friend. I didn’t like upsetting him, but I didn’t regret for an instant my meetings with Score. I rolled off the bed and stood, picking imaginary lint off my clothes. “You
only
gave me three,” I countered. “So I have to make sure they’re all exceptionally good questions.”

“You’re saying, after digesting it for over two weeks, you haven’t thought of even
one
measly question for me?” He clucked his tongue, standing fluidly and sliding closer. “I thought you were sharper than that, Sarah.”

I giggled, more at the sound of my false name than his teasing tone of voice. It felt more strange to be called the name I’d known my whole life than to accept Lyra as my new one.

“Okay,” I said, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of him. “How old are you?”

“Pfft,” he snorted, dismissing the question. “You don’t want to waste one of the three on something like that. A freebie: I’m nineteen. My naming ceremony was just three years before your own birth date.”

My eyebrows raised, “That’s all?”

He nodded. “That’s all. Why? How old did you think I was? Do I look ancient or something? Are you saying I could be Aldan’s twin?” His mouth twitched. Glenn was fighting a grin.

I shook my head. “No!” I pushed him playfully in the shoulder. “Not at all. But I don’t know the rules!” I laughed. “Besides, you’re a member of the Amaranth Guard. That seems pretty prestigious for a nineteen-year-old.”

“Ahh,” he said, stretching out. “Now
that…
There’s almost a decent question in there, somewhere.”

“Okay,” I said. “How is it that someone so young is on the Guard? And if you tell me that it’s totally normal for elves to be in distinguished organizations before they’re twenty, I’m going to be so mad,” I added, laughing, “that I’ll take my books away. You can do without.”

“And how, exactly, would you uphold such a threat?” He grinned. “I’d take them back while you slept.”

“I don’t believe it. You’re far too honorable.”

“
That
,” he said, “is an accusation I’ve never heard before, and suspect I’ll never hear again. But, fair enough. No, it isn’t especially usual. Okay, then.” He scratched his chin. “Where to begin? Would you like the long answer or the short one?”

“As it’s one of my three questions, I feel I deserve
both
.”

“All right, all right,” he said, laughing and holding his hands up in a surrendering position. “The short answer is that I wasn’t really cut out for anything else.” He cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to decide how to word the next part. “The long answer is that I failed— miserably, I might add— my spirit trial.”

“What’s a spirit trial?”

He smiled. “Perhaps that should count as your second question?” My mouth dropped open, and I let out an indignant yelp. “Alright!” he said with a laugh. “I can be generous. I shall pretend you didn’t ask me and instead explain it as part of the original question. Really, you’ll have to get better at this.”

He sighed, collecting his thoughts. His face drew into a more serious expression. “When elves turn fourteen, we’re sent on a spirit trial. We’re given a small knife, the clothes on our backs, and dropped, alone, in the deadliest part of the woods,
anab
á
st
. Elves require more physical sustenance there to survive than they normally would. In such an environment, the spirit is… sapped. You begin to think of nothing but your aching stomach, and time exacerbates the experience.

“When our destination is reached, we’re supposed to stick it out until one of two things happen— death, usually from the poisonous flora, but occasionally from the creatures within, or we’re retrieved by another elf, at which point we’re assessed for our actions. We don’t know this before we take the test, but the judgment is fairly straightforward. We’re only told ahead of time to wait for someone to come for us. The most pious, the ones who sit and wait until they’re delirious with hunger and thirst— then continue to wait— are the ones who end up being our leaders. Those elves understand, more than the rest of us, control over one’s body and spirit.

“For example, my Lady was left alone far longer than intended, yet she didn’t move from the spot where they planted her. She was abandoned and starving for nearly twice the usual time. Her first retrieval party had an incident with a poisonous creature requiring them to return to the village healers. When they finally returned for her, they were surprised to find she was both alive and still seated where she’d been left, having complete faith in our people.

“Those destined to be healers might not sit still, but they’d use their knowledge of the forest to create teas and soothing tonics to help stave hunger. Those in the Amaranth Guard, her elite warriors, usually spend their days sanctifying wood from fallen branches and crafting it into arrows. In this way, they are useful to the whole village. Others might take runs or do other physical activities to distract themselves. There are additional results that are considered normal, but alas, my own trial had… erratic results.” He looked down towards the floor, a strange expression on his face. He didn’t quite look ashamed, but he didn’t look comfortable telling this part of the story— he was unsettled, I decided.

Unsettled or not, he continued, “The knife they give you— you can use it to cut herbs, or craft, but usually... it’s for those of us who are so weak they’d rather just be done with it. Sorry, not weak,” he said, correcting himself quickly, “
gentle
. That’s the term we use.” I frowned. Sending kids out to potentially kill themselves sounded bleak indeed.

Glenn continued, “I took that knife and cut out a limb from a tree, working the wood until I had this.” He tossed his bow over to me, and although it was large I was surprised at how light it was. I’d never looked at it closely before, but the whole thing was covered in carvings of plants and animals. Flowers, stags, trees, ducks… it was really amazing.

“Then I took what was left of the branch and crafted an arrow. The next chance I got, I shot at a… well, let’s call it a deer. I cooked the meat over a small fire, and ate it.”

I stared at him, confused. “How in the world is that a failure? It shows ingenuity, and willpower, not to mention resourcefulness—”

He shook his head, “It shows cruelty towards the forest, and malice towards the animal, and selfishness.” He stared into my eyes. “So I did
not
go hungry. I took from the forest, first when I crafted the bow, again when I shot and killed the creature, and again when I gathered wood to create a fire.”

“So you were placed on the Amaranth Guard? Isn’t that a reward?” I asked. I returned his bow. He gripped it tightly in his hands until his knuckles were white.

“The rationale, my Lady said, was that if I was so bloodthirsty she’d use me as I used the forest. I would be tempered into a weapon, and used for good. My resourcefulness would be convenient in an emergency.” He sighed, and then a flash of bitterness crossed his features, “She was probably happy to be rid of me, truth be told, when you came along.”

“That’s cruel.”

“Not any worse than how I treated the forest.” He looked me in the eyes. “That’s one question down, two to go.”

“I don’t think you were wrong,” I declared.

“That’s a very human attitude,” he responded, nodding. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

“So Aldan was right, elves really are environmental?”

Glenn laughed, “About as environmental as they come. It’s our sacred task… We can feel the world around us, the plants, the deer, the bears, even the bugs. When they thrive, we feel a deep inner peace. So we guard our surroundings carefully.”

Marin entered the room. “You’ve got a private message from the council,” she turned to Glenn, “
both
of you.”

“They’re already checking in?” Glenn mused. He shook his head, standing up, “Alright.”

I glanced at him, “What do they want?” I was scared they’d found another home for me, scared I’d be shuttled off somewhere new. I hoped not.

Glenn looked bored. “They’ll be wanting an update, that’s all. Come on, best not keep them waiting.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Update

Glenn and I leaned over the scrying pool, the figures of the council shadowy but all present and recognizable through the rippling water.

“Glenn, report on your progress,” said a cold voice. I recognized it as the Lady of Flowers. Small morning glories were scattered through her hair today, her eyes matching the blue of the flowers.

He answered stiffly, formally, “I have escorted the young lady to her tutor, but regrettably was not permitted to continue my service within the confines of Aldan’s library.”

The Lady wrinkled her nose, “Petty fool with his books. Continue.”

“I let her enter the den for her lessons, which are usually brief, and she returns outside with new tomes to study. I have also been escorting her to and from human school to help maintain appearances, though it would appear almost pointless as humans will do anything she asks— including forgetting minor mistakes.”

“Interesting.” This time it was Marin’s father. “I’d heard as much about sirens in the past, but I’ve never seen it in person. You confirm it works?”

“Yes, sir,” Glenn continued, “In fact, we had her ask the school to ignore her almost completely, and they complied quite readily—” He hesitated. “It was your daughter’s idea, sir.”

I was surprised to see the merman smile. “She’s a clever girl,” he said softly. “Good for her. You may continue.”

“We have faced three threats to her life. The first, a blood wraith, though it has been some time, and I have submitted a report on the incident. As you are also aware, a hallucination was induced in the siren while she was in flux, causing her to damage herself. More recently, we faced a new attempt on her life. It was in the early evening. I investigated the threat and discovered a dozen centaurs outside of King Dorian’s Whitecrest estate, calling for blood. I eliminated the problem—”