Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (30 page)

The centaur I’d met before interrupted, “He killed three of my herd! I demand justice!”

“Aristos,” Amaranthe said, “I believe your men assaulted a siren who is under council protection. You knew, and therefore
they
knew, the risks before they set out. They should not have underestimated an elf from my own flock, particularly a member of my own guard.”

He sneered but didn’t say another word.

Glenn continued, “Regrettably, as Aristos pointed out, it was necessary to put down three of the herd.” He hesitated. “Aside from the attacks, all has been routine… except… last week, before the most recent attack, my charge evaded my watch for about 68 minutes of her own accord, so she could go on a private date.”

Some of the council members laughed a little at this. Marin’s father smiled. “I am sympathetic to your plight, young man. At times I wonder exactly how diabolical the mind of a teenage girl can be.”

I flushed, looking at the ground.

Glenn sighed, “Nevertheless, we have spoken about the issue and have regained a common trust. Since then, she has met with the young man, now telling me where she was going and when she was coming home so I could be within range to protect her.”

The Lady of Flowers nodded, as if she had decided for the whole of the council that this was satisfactory. “That’ll do, Glenn. Siren, step forward.”

I sighed, “Yes?”

“We have not yet found a suitable guardian for you, but we wanted to let you know we are looking.”

“Waste of time,” muttered the vampire. “Who cares where she goes?”

King Dorian shot him a steely glance and continued, “We have been looking for someone who has, at least somewhat, some knowledge of sirens, or at the very least has been shown to be capable. It has proved… challenging,” said the merman apologetically.

I nodded, “I’ve heard that from Aldan. It’s difficult to find any information on my kind.”

“Regardless, we’re doing our best. There are a few longer lived extras who may be an option, or perhaps one of the smaller clans of offshoot races will comply. With any luck, one will agree to the task, and we’ll be sending you on your way within the month. If it goes poorly, it could be much, much longer.”

“Thank you, sirs, madams,” I said, trying to be polite.

“As a side note,” Amaranthe said, “try to think of the ethical ramifications of dating a human being. You have power over this person all the time… it’s… a little sad… pathetic, actually.”

I blushed again, wishing Glenn hadn’t mentioned that part in his report. I couldn’t be mad at him, though, because I knew they expected him to be thorough.

“Best of luck to you, and we hope to be contacting you soon to resolve your guardian situation,” said the man in the fire, sounding bored.

The pool went dark, and I looked up at Glenn.

“Sorry,” he said, “about the whole date thing. But if I didn’t tell them now, it’d be worse when they found out.”

I shrugged, “I don’t think it mattered in the long run. If they want to laugh at me, they can laugh.” I yawned, tired from the events of the day. “I’m heading to bed,” I announced.

When I got there, despite my exhaustion, I had trouble sleeping. I kept catching movement from the corners of my eyes. Eventually, I asked Glenn to pull his chair closer to my bedside so I could see him as I slept. He complied, not even asking me why I was suddenly acting skittish.

When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were plagued with nightmares. In them, I was back home at Susan and Rick’s house, and I was singing freely and happily, dulcimer in hand. I looked at my foster parents. As they listened to the song with maniacal smiles on their faces, the flesh on their heads began to melt off in large chunks until there was nothing but grinning skulls.

I woke up in a sweat, the alarm about to go off.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Songs & Consequences

I was in Marin’s bedroom, surrounded by windows, soft pink walls, and white linens. She was modeling clothes for me, striking various poses in different outfits. I was incredibly bored, lying on my stomach with my head resting in my hands.

She strode out in a white sun dress, her hair down and flowing, accented by a headband that was loaded up with seashells and sand dollars and starfish. She cocked her head to the side and did a quick twirl.

“Well?” she asked.

I shrugged, making my head bob up and down, “That one’s good, too.”

She jerked her head over one shoulder, looking in the mirror. She crumpled her face, “No. Definitely not.”

I groaned, leaning into the white comforter of her bed. It was the seventh dress she’d tried on so far.

She peeled out of it, and there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” she chirped.

I blushed, feeling embarrassed for her. Marin was practically naked, but neither she nor the maid who entered seemed to care.

“A letter, from your father,” said the maid, handing her another thick envelope. The paper wasn’t so shimmery as before, and the seal was turquoise on this one.

Marin frowned, pursing her lips. She nodded at the maid dismissively, “Thank you.”

After tearing it open, her eyes skimmed over the words quickly. She heaved a huge sigh and wadded the whole thing up, tossing it into a wastebasket in the corner. She smiled up at me. “Okay. I think I’ll try something more fall-like,” she said, digging into her closet and returning with an orange halter dress.

“What was that about, Marin?” I asked her, gesturing towards the letter in the trash.

She sighed, pulling on the dress and tying it behind her neck, “Nothing. Mermaid business. Politics.” She crinkled her nose, “Boring stuff.”

“But it seemed like you—”

She narrowed her eyes, interrupting, “It wasn’t anything important. It’s the same sort of nonsense my father always tries to pull. Everything’s fine, though.”

I pushed myself upright so I was sitting cross-legged on her bed. I wondered what the letter said, and was somewhat tempted to fish it out of the trash and read it… but it was Marin’s business, and if she didn’t want to share, I wouldn’t pry.

I leaned forward. “The orange is pretty,” I offered lamely. “It makes your skin look more tanned.”

She peered into the mirror with scrutiny, “But maybe it’s too formal?” She glanced at me. “What are you wearing?”

I stared down at myself. I hadn’t planned on changing. I was wearing jeans and the blouse of the day— a black, asymmetrical one-shouldered number with a single long sleeve and a square neckline.

I gestured sheepishly to myself, “This?”

She raised a brow, then groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me that before, Sarah?”

Because I hadn’t realized it made a difference. I hoped she wasn’t going to start worrying about dressing me. This was one of my prepackaged outfits, after all.

I glanced into the mirror behind her. I thought I looked pretty good, but I didn’t really have days where I didn’t think I looked nice anymore. My hair was down, my loose waves brushing against my shoulders, the blouse flattering to my figure.

Marin shook her head. “You were going to let me go way, way too formal for this date if that’s what you’re wearing.” She frowned, digging through her closet again.

I sighed, wondering if I’d just condemned myself to even more time watching her mock fashion show. I leaned back onto the bed, frowning.

I felt conflicted about this whole situation, anyway. I was excited to see Score again, but the prospect of being around other people, keeping up the charade of being ‘Sarah’ and ‘Will’ sounded overwhelming. When I was with him, the best part was that we could relax and just be ourselves.

Additionally, I had absolutely no desire to be around Cody. I had no doubt at all that he’d fall instantly under my spell, and I didn’t have a way to prevent it.

“Hmm…” Marin said after a while, “maybe this? Or this one?” She pulled out about six different blouses, and I groaned.

I slid my phone out of my pocket, checking the time, then looked up at her. “Marin, we need to leave in less than half an hour,” I reminded her.

I wasn’t sure what the plan was, but I’d received a text from Score letting me know what time he would be ready. I was supposed to be meeting him, then we’d join up with Marin and Cody shortly after.

She flapped a hand at me. “Well, you can go whenever you want!” she snapped. “If he’s dating
me
, Cody can wait.” She glanced at me, “And it wouldn’t hurt to make Will wait, too.”

I laughed, “That’s not really my style, Marin.”

“Whatever,” she said, holding up one of the blouses. “I’ll probably be a while.” Her mouth twitched into a smile. “But if you want some
alone time
beforehand… I can’t blame you.”

I blushed, pushing myself up from her bed and walking to the door that led to her own private patio. I did want to be alone with him, but not for the reasons she thought.

“Okay,” I said, “I’m heading out.”

“I’ll let Glenn know,” Marin said absently, shifting a different shirt up and holding it against her body.

I left the room, clicking the patio door shut behind me. I made my way around the side of the estate to the main road, then wandered up the beach towards Score’s house.

It was windy and cloud-covered today, not nearly as nice as yesterday afternoon had been. I wondered if it would be a problem for me to get there a little early. Hopefully not.

I strode up to Harbor Estate, making my way to the enormous porch. This would be the second time I’d had to knock on the door. Usually, Score was out waiting for me. I felt a flurry of nerves as I struck my knuckles against the wood.

No answer.

I cracked the door open, peering in. It hit me like hot wax dripping down my back, warm and thick.

He was singing.

I shivered, slipping inside the door and closing it quietly.

He was up in the loft, and even from down here I could see him perched on his bed, guitar in hand. My pulse raced. His voice… it was amazing hearing it. It was rich, with a slight bit of huskiness, beautiful tonal quality, technically perfect— but that wasn’t what struck me the most. It called to me like an echo of my soul— it felt like waking up, alive, brilliant.

His lyrics were a mystery, sung in a language I didn’t know. The emotions still dipped into my bones, a sort of giddy relief and happiness, a bit of anxiety, a blush of something else, hitting me right in the stomach.

I closed my eyes, leaning against the door. I felt a stabbing in my heart, suddenly sad that the moment would inevitably come to an end, that we’d both be leaving to pretend we were human and normal. I slid down the wall, sitting at the bottom of the door, wanting him to play forever.

Most of the time, I wished I could go back to before I’d turned, but when I was with Score, and even more so now that I was listening to him… I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

I inhaled sharply, and his playing stopped abruptly.

“Hello?” he called out, a tiny bit of panic in his voice.

I pushed myself up. “It’s just me, Score…” I twisted my fingers together awkwardly, staring at the floor, “Sorry, the door was open, and I know I’m early, but…”

He raced down the steps, grabbing my hands. “You— you heard me?” He stared into my eyes, looking slightly worried.

I smiled, hoping to reassure him. “Yeah, I did. You’re amazing.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled me into him, giving me a tight hug. Then he laughed. “Thanks. You’re the first one to compliment me on my singing,” he said with a lopsided grin. His eyes clouded over for just a moment to a blue-gray before he added, “Almost.”

My heart began to beat in my ears loudly, and I had an inkling that perhaps he’d made the same mistake I had, once upon a time. Maybe he
did
have an answer to the problem. I bit into my cheek, suddenly nervous, knowing I had to ask.

“I’m not quite—” he said quickly, “I mean, I need to put my guitar away, maybe change clothes, or—”

“You look good,” I said casually, distracted.

We climbed the stairs to his room. I sat down hard on his bed, gripping the comforter in my hands tightly. “Marin will probably be late,” I said. “She’s still trying on outfits.”

“You look fantastic, Lyra,” he said softly, grabbing his guitar and snapping it back in the case. He replaced it in the corner of his room.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling awkward. “Score— your playing…”

“Yeah?”

“I… I loved hearing you,” I told him. It felt inadequate though, not a grand enough statement to convey how it’d made me feel.

“Well, I love playing,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you understand it?”

I shook my head, “No. Was that siren-language?”

“It was.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said, staring at the floor. “I don’t know what you were saying, but so much emotion…”

“Mm,” he agreed, looking away from me.

I bolstered my courage, peeking over to him, “Score?”

“Yes, Lyra?”

“Have you ever— have you ever sang for anyone else before?”

His eyes went dark for a long moment, turning that blue-gray color again. It was enough of an answer for me, but I still waited politely to hear him say it.

“Once,” he answered quietly.

My hand crawled over to his, and I wove it through his fingers. A lump had formed in my throat, but this conversation was overdue, especially if there was any possibility he could help me.

I took a deep breath, and it entered my body raggedly, giving a sharp whistle to the inhale. I couldn’t look at him when I said it, so I stared at the floor, forcing the words out. “Me, too. Once.”

In my peripherals, I saw his head snap over to me, his eyes widening and shifting colors, forest green with gray blue and murky purple smatterings in them.

“Lyra…” he said in an empathetic voice.

Suddenly I was crying, my hands in tight fists, leaning against him and sobbing hard into his chest. The guilt had come crashing on me like a card house tumbling down. I hated everything I was down to my core, and wished for the millionth time that I could undo it all.