Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (34 page)

He held out a hand to me. “Mostly, you just have to wish for something.”

My heart was pounding in my ears as I took his hand in mine. I didn’t even know what I wanted. How could I focus enough to use this ability?

He pulled me close, turning me so I was facing away from him, towards the ocean.

“You make a wish,” he repeated.

His lips were near my ear, and he hummed softly. I could smell a sweet cinnamony fragrance on his breath as he exhaled. The space around us suddenly lit up with sparks that fell to the ground like twinkling shooting stars. We were standing in a rain of candlelight, but it didn’t hurt or burn. I reached out with an open palm. A couple sparks landed on my skin, shining briefly and disappearing, flickering out of existence. It was
real
magic, a fairytale come to life. I wondered for a moment if Score was the handsome prince, or the evil wizard.

I turned my head, looking up to his eyes. They were golden, pink, and a tiny bit dark violet. I quaked as he met my gaze. I wished I could fully decipher his emotions.

I felt safe with Score. My instincts urged me to trust him… but why?

I could kiss him
, I thought. I bit my lip, turning back. I was too afraid to pursue my train of thought with action.

He pulled away from me, and sighed. “Okay, it’s your turn.”

I turned myself towards him. He stood about three feet from me now. It may as well have been miles.

“How do I do it?” A knot formed in my stomach.

He stepped forward hesitantly, still leaving a good distance between us. “Just think of what you want: light, or something in your hands, or… practically anything.”

“Anything?” I asked, feeling my voice crack just a little.

“Almost anything,” he amended, “our magic is based on alteration, so there are a few limits. We can’t use it to travel, or turn back time, or conjure an object. We can change things, though, and shape them— even if the alteration seems impossible. Change the air around us to a sea of sparks,” he said, gesturing. “Alter the sparks so they don’t burn. Change a hillside into a beach, carve it out, smooth the stones. Alter the area to prevent sound from traveling beyond its borders; alter perceptions so nothing appears amiss. We have the power to change the world around us.”

What did I want right now? What could I wish for?

I looked again at Score and felt a little aching pull to him in my stomach. In this moment, my most overwhelming want terrified me.

I looked towards the tide. A flicker in the water caught my eye. Somewhere on the public beach was a bonfire. It was a start.

I hummed softly, focusing on creating a fire between the stone slabs we used as chairs, igniting the air with a blaze. I was surprised by the lack of effort it took. My notes were quiet, the focus half-hearted, but still a tongue of flame leapt between the slabs and crackled to life.

Score smiled, “Great job. See? Easy.” He settled onto one of the boulders, warming his hands in front of the fire.

I sat across from him, staring at the merry flames as they jumped around. There was no wood, no fuel of any kind, yet it remained bright and strong. The heat it generated was substantial. I hummed again. The color of the fire changed to a pale purple.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Score teased, laughing.

I smiled at him. I felt a little bit better about staying safe, about being able to deter any of my pursuers. As long as I could at least hum and think quickly, I’d be fine. “Thank you,” I said gratefully.

“Of course.”

The fire was strange and didn’t smell like anything. I scooted closer to it. “It seems like there’d be a lot of restrictions,” I said slowly, thoughtfully.

“Actually, in the scheme of things it’s pretty open-ended,” Score said. “I mean, yeah, we may not be able to time travel, but we
can
turn lead into gold without a nuclear reactor. I still haven’t tested it to the fullest capacity.”

I stared at the magical blaze, asking, “Score, did your letter mention exactly who was so hostile towards us?”

He exhaled slowly. “No, it just said there were many magical races that were dangerous, that’s all.”

I leaned forward, my hand cupping my head lightly, and considered it. I wished I knew
who
was out to get me, aside from the centaurs. Maybe no one. Maybe that was my answer.

I glanced at Score. He was looking at me with a strange expression on his face, his eyes a rosy pink. His face flushed, and he stared down at the fire. He hummed hastily, turning it green.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Time was up.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Councilors

In the late evening I lay on the bed, flipping through the book about the councilors. It was fascinating, if only to learn more about the other magical races.

The Japanese couple who sat so closely together were dragon twins, for one thing. Charcoal drawings of the pair spanned two images. The first was a simple portrait of their amalgam forms— the girl seated with her brother standing above her, her right hand clasped in his. The second was technically still a portrait, but in dragon form they looked completely foreign. Serpentine bodies, intertwined. The sister was shaded lighter than the brother. Her dragon body was slender, with features that were cruel but beautiful. He was power given physical form. The expression on the image was fierce— his mouth open, a jet of fire streaming from it.

I didn’t bother reading the details. I flipped past the blocks of text, looking only at the pictures and captions. Maybe I really
was
like a child.

Glenn leaned over me as I turned the page to Lady Amaranthe, the Elf Queen.

“She’s so pretty,” I murmured.

“My Lady is known as a great beauty throughout the Realm and beyond.”

I sat up, cross-legged. “What’s she like?” I asked, curious. I’d only have opportunity to gather a personal perspective on two of the councilors: the Lady of Flowers and King Dorian. However, I doubted Marin would answer any questions.

Glenn shrugged, “She’s… infallible?”

I pursed my lips together, looking back at the picture. She was depicted with a strange cluster of flowers wreathed about her head. The blossoms were encircled by smaller flowers, shaped like stars. They looked like they grew together, as if they were the same plant.

“Nobody’s infallible,” I said. Glenn stiffened up, but didn’t argue with me.

I pointed at the blooms, “What kind of flower is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s her namesake, the amaranthe. Cut down to near-extinction.”

“Why?” The flowers were beautiful. The blossoms looked somewhat rose-shaped, but the edges of the petals were wrong, scalloped. Because the image was in black and white, it was difficult to tell what color they were supposed to be.

“The amaranthe was a useful plant. It has properties that nullify almost any poison. For a long time, there was a black-market trade for them, and prices on the plant sky-rocketed. There’s only one bloom left in all the Overworld or Realm.”

“Where is it now?”

“With my Lady, of course,” he said. “This portrait was commissioned when she’d first taken her oath as the Lady of Flowers, our Queen of the Sacred Forests. Back then, amaranthe were more plentiful.”

The likeness was true to memory. I flipped back to Dorian’s image, noting that it also appeared identical to the man I’d met. I wondered how old the merman was. It was hard to imagine that Amaranthe had looked the same for over a thousand years.

Marin sauntered into the room. “How was your date? Was Will completely peeved about Saturday? Cody was under the impression I stood him up.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “Will was fine. I smoothed things over,” I added with a laugh, implying I’d dazzled him with magic.

Glenn sighed next to me. “I wish you’d break things off with him, Sarah,” he said again. “I mean, my Lady
did
have a point when she spoke to us.”

My face grew hot. If things were different, if Score
was
human, I’d have agreed. As it was, though, I couldn’t stand the thought of abandoning him. Most days, when we were apart, it felt like I was just counting the minutes until our next rendezvous.

Marin sat next to me, looking at the open book in my lap. She crinkled her nose. “What’s that old keeper got you reading now?”

“I’m reading about the councilors,” I said, handing her the volume.

She stared down at the picture of her father. Her gaze flickered to the notes below it. Her eyes seemed to hover near her own name.

“I didn’t know you had sisters,” I said, gesturing to it.

Marin let out a choking sort of laugh, snorting a little bit. “Hundreds. Maybe thousands. More every day, it seems.”

I rapped my fingers on the cover, “What’s your father like?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Noble. Kind. A great king.”

It was the canned response, though, the one she’d given a million times in her life.

I shrugged, flipping the pages forward. The man in the fire pit who’d worn the business suit was sketched on this page. His outfit was quite a bit different in the drawing, making his race obvious. Loose pants, a turban, jewels. Djinni.

I leafed forward. Near the end of the book was a woman I didn’t recognize. She had deep ebony hair and dramatic cheekbones.

“That’s the old siren bard,” Marin said, settling next to me.

She didn’t look anything like me— not even close— but I could tell that the artist had attempted to capture her changing eyes by shading them erratically. She had high arches to her brows and a thin nose. Her lips angled into sharp points. Her neck was unnaturally long. She was beautiful but severe, wearing a robe-like toga and sitting on the opal throne.

My eyes turned to her profile.

Shiri Gaah’Mangeenah

Bard of the Sirens

*Rumored to have taken multiple potions to stave off aging, she is the product of a long-dead ideal beauty.

No wonder her features looked so strange. I glanced below the headline, but nothing was offered aside from:

All other information unknown.

I tried to picture growing up in a world where my birth parents had raised me, where I’d have been hailing this woman as my leader. It was completely baffling, so strange I couldn’t even imagine it.

I closed the book, rapping my fingers along the cover impatiently.

My phone chirped next to me, and I slid it from my pocket. I smiled. Score had sent me a text message.

Tomorrow? Our spot? Noon?

I glanced at Glenn. “Will wants to go out tomorrow.”

Marin tugged the book from me as Glenn mulled it over.

“Sarah, you
just
saw him this evening. And last week—”

“I’ve been only drinking sealed water since!” I said, laughing, holding up the bottle I’d set on my nightstand only moments before.

He shook his head, “That’s not what I mean.” He narrowed his eyes, “Besides, you’ve never had the same type of attack twice. If the pattern continues, it’ll be something exceptionally outlandish next, and even more dangerous.” He rubbed his forehead, “But if you must, then… where?”

I hugged him quickly. “Longbay Park again.”

He frowned sharply, “Sarah… that’s…”

I raised a brow.

“Fine. The park
again
, I suppose.” He leaned forward, looking lost in thought.

I tapped out my response, not able to keep the smile from my face. Marin squealed, sniggering.

“Oh my gods, you guys, you have to look at this! Viceroy Stonefist…” She leaned back, laughing so hard, tears were practically rolling down her cheeks.

I glanced at the image and laughed. The dwarf councilor’s portrait featured him wearing a ruffly outfit, his beard and hair braided in complex styles with bows intertwined. That was enough to make it completely ridiculous, of course. But there was more— “His expression!” I giggled.

Glenn pried the book from my hands, eyeing it. His usual mask of neutrality broke into pieces. He laughed loudly from his belly.

The dwarf, dressed in lace and frills, was glaring forward with his lacy-gloved hand gripping a battle axe. The expression was murderous and fierce, trying to be intimidating. It was a complete failure.

All three of us were lying on my bed, laughing until our stomachs ached.

“I wish—” sputtered Glenn. I pricked up my ears because he so rarely said anything personal— “I wish,” he gasped again, “that it was in color!”

That sent us into a new set of belly-laughs. I swiped at tears running down my face, sure that my eyes were golden and happy for the moment.

I realized, suddenly, that for the first time in my life I truly
did
have friends, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Proposal

Score was waiting at Longbay when I arrived, leaning against the picnic table with sunglasses over his eyes. He grinned when he saw me, gesturing in the direction of our private beach.

I laced my fingers together. Score had his guitar with him today, slung over his back. He led me through the trees and foliage to our spot.

He was buzzing with energy this afternoon, his hands twitching. He hummed his quick privacy spell, then looked into my eyes. Score’s were golden, pink, orange. He looked a little…
nervous
, I realized. The orange,
that’s
what it meant. Gold was happy, orange nervous, or maybe anxious or worried. But that rosy pink was still a mystery.

I crossed my ankles together, looking at him expectantly.

He smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “I— I want to—”

“Yes?”

“Did you—” he said, inhaling suddenly, “did you have any more problems? No more attacks, right?”