Chapter Seven. In Which the Pair Encounters Far Too Much Singing #2
Dozens of gathered smiling faces turned in unison to watch her as she stood at the edge of the square, unable to move. Her unease only grew. Ripping her attention away from the dancing, she scanned the rest of the town and found that each building and storefront mirrored an image she knew by heart.
She was looking at Barrow.
This Barrow was unmarred by centuries of storms. The four black cast-iron lampposts placed at each corner of the town square were not rusted over.
The fountain spouted streams of clear water over a delicately carved statue of an unknown figure, its face shielded by a veil instead of being eroded away with time and rain.
The cobblestones beneath her feet were not permanently slicked.
She recognized the road that led to the hill where a large manor sat, looming over the town.
The real difference between her Barrow and this one, though, was the people.
They weren’t worn down to dull smudges against a damp backdrop, with frowns becoming permanent fixtures on their drab faces.
These people, sporting beaming smiles and open arms, were inherently unlike the ones she knew so well.
They greeted her with cheerful waves and exaggerated bows and didn’t cross the road or look away to avoid her.
Somehow, that was more terrifying than anything else.
The gazes that followed her were too bright, too focused, too hungry. They stared as they sang; they stared as they danced; they stared when the strings to their instruments paused or stuttered or changed. Ignoring them, Risa searched the crowds for the prince.
Standing by the fountain, he was bent over a roguish man’s hand, lips puckered for a kiss. The man was large, pale, and corded in muscle. He sported a thick red beard and had abandoned his singing in favor of being wooed.
Great. It had taken Prince Javi less than five minutes to get someone to fall in love with him.
She would have been impressed if she weren’t concerned about the strange town and its stranger singing. The prince seemed unaware of anything except his new beau and the long line of additional admirers waiting their turn.
Frenzied motion erupted as the townspeople suddenly spun into another choreographed dance, this one simulating life in a small town.
They waved and bowed in coordinated steps, lifted baskets brimming with flowers or dirty laundry in time with a fast-paced melody, which seemed to come from every direction.
Men leaped over cracks in the cobblestones, women landed gracefully in curved arcs.
Couples flapped their arms like wings while children twirled and twirled as a crescendo rose in the air.
Even those stuck at home participated from their balconies and windows.
Risa watched the nightmare unfold, rooted in place.
What the curses was going on?
She needed to grab the prince and go. Explanation be damned. He could flirt with someone else later; he could even flirt with the cat if he wanted. Whatever was happening in this town had to be worse than assassins crawling through the Bosque.
She stalked up to Prince Javi, planted her hands on her waist, and met his eyes over the man’s hand. Prince Javi straightened, all smug, and flashed her a wink that only infuriated her more. No concept of self-preservation!
“Time to go,” she barked, jerking her chin back toward the tunnel of trees that had taken them to the square.
“But I’m having so much fun,” he whined. He turned to give his new suitor and his growing gang of eager castoffs a cheeky grin.
“Look around,” Risa muttered darkly, hoping Prince Javi’s group of admirers couldn’t hear her. The townspeople were clapping in unison. “Something is obviously wrong here.”
Brunie the cat sat on a patch of stone unclaimed by the myriad flowers scattered over the town, and swatted the air in agreement.
Prince Javi was untroubled as he looked around. “I love singing.” Then, with a pout, he complained, “And I’m starving. Aren’t you?”
The words worked like a mating call. A face appeared behind Prince Javi’s shoulder. It belonged to a delicate girl, dainty white flowers sprinkled in her crown of braided blond hair. Freckles dotted her olive skin. “We have food,” the girl sang.
“They have food,” he repeated.
“I heard,” Risa muttered.
“Maybe there’s a healer who can prescribe allergy medicine, since it’s clear you want to see me succumb to my ailment. Or a vet who likes taking in particularly hideous creatures and turning them into mountable art?”
“We have a doctor,” sang another voice, this one belonging to a very pretty boy with startling blue eyes who stood two heads shorter than the prince.
“And food!” the first girl reminded them.
Risa shook her head, unwilling to entertain the half-hearted attempts at distraction. “I really think we should go,” she said to Prince Javi, voice pitched low. “We’ll find an apple or something on the road.”
“The road that those assassins from last night are probably, definitely on?”
He had a point, but she couldn’t shake the terrible feeling settling in her bones. It nagged at her much like the singing did, telling her to go and never turn back. There was something Bad in the air, and she and Prince Javi were the prey it was trying to catch in its web.
“Just trust me,” she said.
It was clear that the prince would not just trust her.
He rolled his eyes and faced his group of admirers. “Let’s stay a while,” he decided, his tone suggesting he didn’t want to continue their argument. “Get something to eat. Find you something to wear that isn’t borderline offensive to people who can see—”
“That’s rich, when you look like someone about to be murdered in a very convoluted political plot,” she spat.
He beamed. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Another girl leaped out from Prince Javi’s throng of fans.
Her skin was the shade of warm honey, and her brown hair was streaked with gold.
She and the first admirer each claimed one of the prince’s arms and pointed across the square at a wooden sign painted with CAIRN RIVER TAILORS in elaborate script.
“The River puts the rest to shame when it comes to clothing fame,” she trilled.
“They’ll dress you up and dress you out, and you’ll never be the same!” the first admirer added, fluttering his brown eyes.
Prince Javi was practically radiating. “Wonderful, excellent, lovely,” he sang in perfect harmony.
Of course the prince could sing.
He deserved whatever ill-begotten horror awaited him.
Risa grabbed for Brunie, tucked the struggling cat under her armpit, and, despite the futility of it, marched back toward the trees.
The prince could get himself killed if he wanted, but she was not going to get brainwashed and join some weird singing town in their weird singing ways.
Better to take her chances with Brunhilda’s curse and die in a very heroic attempt.
She resisted the urge to glance back at Prince Javi as she yelled, “This is a bunch of nonsense!”
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
The music stopped. The singing ceased. The dancing and twirling and acrobatic displays halted.
One small child was frozen upside down, midway through a cartwheel, mouth hanging open in exaggerated surprise.
One of the many bakers inhabiting the place—she had counted about a dozen, which would have been a funny joke in any other scenario—dropped every loaf he’d been juggling.
Even the birds stopped warbling. One toppled from its perch near the fountain and into the watery depths below, very much dead.
“She isn’t singing!” came a melodic screech from the crowd.
“Oh, come on. I haven’t been singing the entire time,” Risa reminded them, having pulled up short after seeing everyone’s shock.
But her words went unheeded as the girl with the golden braids fainted into the very strong arms of Prince Javi’s first admirer.
Risa shifted beneath the scrutiny of a hundred pairs of eyes. Dark shadows passed across every face, the earlier joy snuffed out like a doused flame—a warning she understood all too well by now.
Her curse had caught up.