Chapter 14 #2
The heavy stares of the onlookers pressed down on me, squeezing the air out of my lungs. Once again, I turned to Maren for courage and distraction.
“What was so important in that purse of yours that you had to have it on you at all times?” I asked casually, as if we were alone.
“Oh, many things,” she replied, matching my breezy tone. “Credit cards, my driver’s license, my passport... I always had my passport on me, just in case. Car keys and my apartment key, of course. My laptop, my iPad, my phone...”
“Many things, indeed,” I said.
None of what she listed made sense to me, but I was glad to simply hear her calming voice.
People scurried out of our way like a receding tide, leaving whispers in their wake.
“The cursed king...”
“Look at the rocks under his feet.”
“Don’t let him touch you.”
“And his human pet...”
I flexed my jaw, gritting my teeth so hard it was a miracle none broke.
Disrespecting me was a crime I could overlook right now.
But disrespecting Maren? That warranted a punishment far more severe than a quick and easy death from my touch.
I should order their heads cut off, but not with an axe or a sword. No. It’d be a saw. A dull one too.
Anger and apprehension swirled inside me, blending into a tornado ready to erupt.
Maren cleared her throat and raised her voice, speaking over the hushed whispers, “So, I’ve been meaning to ask all day. How did that owl speak? Is it like a parrot? Has it been trained?”
I blinked, yanked out of my bloodthirsty thoughts.
“No. Not trained.”
“Explain it to me, please,” she insisted, as if it was the most important thing to discuss right now.
But maybe it was? Maybe that was exactly what I needed to hold me back from committing bloodless carnage that would leave this plaza littered with broken glass instead of people, and me racked by lifelong regret afterwards.
I took the lifeline Maren had thrown to me.
With my hands clasped behind me, I cast my eyes skyward and said, “A parrot or a parakeet is trained to repeat words for the amusement of its owners, whereas a snow owl is a messenger. They’re not the same.
The owls only speak to the person who the message is intended for, and they say the message just once.
That’s why it’s important for the sender to keep the message clear and concise and for the receiver to listen to it carefully as it will not be repeated. ”
“Interesting. Is that how communication is normally done in Olathana?” My brave little savior chirped brightly at my side, ignoring the cautious stares and hostile whispers that bombarded us from all sides.
“I mean, the ocean is vast, with reefs and islands scattered over it, and no roads or wires to keep them all connected.”
“The ocean is vast. And the islands are many,” I agreed.
“But we don’t normally use snow owls in Olathana.
We communicate via sealed vessels made of glass or clay and transported by water.
Waves and currents are easier to control for sirens.
Snow owls are actually the preferred messengers in the Dakath Mountains, the kingdom of gargoyles.
Odine, my mother’s royal hag, has a bird of her own.
I suspect she prefers to use the owl over a vessel when she doesn’t want the message to fall into the wrong hands, especially since I can’t fully feel or control the water. ”
We reached the end of the plaza and came to the path that would lead us across the islands, over a few bridges to my uncle’s palace.
The path was almost deserted. Most pedestrians had run away as we approached, only one woman had been slow to follow them, backing away from us on Maren’s side.
“Good evening.” Maren beamed at her. “How do you do?”
“G-good evening, my lady.” The woman tripped over her feet as well as over her words.
Maren offered her a hand in support. But the woman stared at it suspiciously, as if expecting it to set her on fire or...well, turn her to glass.
“My name is Maren,” my brave butterfly introduced herself. “No formalities necessary. I hold no title.”
I would give her every title in the ocean. I would name her my queen if only for helping me face my people tonight. That proved to be one of my most trying actions in decades.
“Maren.” The woman nodded, gathering her skirts and her bearings. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nedali.”
“It’s very nice to meet you too, Nedali. It’s a beautiful evening tonight, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It is indeed,” the woman echoed, tossing me a cautious glance from around Maren.
I gave the woman a benevolent smile. She blinked and cast her gaze downwards at once.
“Nedali? Are you alright?” A man tentatively peeked from behind a coral trunk where he’d been hiding.
He’d fled the scene at the sight of me but then must’ve realized that his companion was left behind and came back for her, probably dreading she might’ve perished from my touch already.
“How do you do?” Maren greeted the man politely, primly folding her hands folded in front of her.
“Good evening, my la—”
“Maren. Her name is Maren,” Nedali corrected him, jamming an elbow into his side.
“Maren.” He nodded his head jerkily, then bowed deeper for me. “Your Majesty.”
“You’re wise to keep a distance from me, but it’s not my intention to harm anyone tonight,” I said to Nedali and her timid companion, welcoming the unexpected opportunity to explain myself to at least two of my subjects.
“We’re just going for a walk,” Maren added cheerfully. “Enjoy your evening.”
As we bid our goodbyes and moved on, other people emerged from the fringes of the gardens and rushed to Nedali. Everyone seemed eager to learn how she survived the encounter with the wicked cursed king.
“You’re doing great, Kye.” Maren’s praise had the effect of a warm hug on me.
“You were splendid, too, my darling,” I praised in turn. “The way you conduct yourself in a crowd, one would think you were born and raised at a royal court.”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Not a royal court per se. But surviving in a shark tank of politicians, high-profile lawyers, and the finest snobs of generational wealth that we call ‘high society’ might’ve had a similar effect—” She stopped abruptly, turning her ear to the shore. “What’s that music?”
“There’s always music in Lyrei,” I dismissed. “Someone is always singing one song or another.”
Music was inescapable even behind my glass walls. It was as constant as the sound of waves in the ocean.
“No, it’s different,” Maren insisted. “There is more of it, louder... Excuse me.” She called to another woman who was ever so carefully trying to bypass us on the path.
The woman stopped and held perfectly still, like a mouse that knew it’d been sighted by a predator.
Recognizing her terror, Maren used her sweetest voice ever, “Would you happen to know where all that music is coming from, please?”
“Oh...” the woman ventured to release a breath. “It’s just a welcoming ceremony for the merchant ships that returned from Lorsan this morning. It’s always a good reason to celebrate when everyone returns safe and sound after dealing with gorgonians.”
Had I been an actively ruling monarch, I would’ve known about the ships’ return.
As it was, I hadn’t even known about their trip in the first place.
Arnon handled it all. He had probably already greeted the sailors and the merchants earlier today too.
The woman was right, surviving the deadly, serpentine stares of gorgonians made any successful return from the Lorsan Wetlands worth celebrating.
“What does the ceremony look like? Is it like a fair? A festival?” Maren craned her neck and rose to her tiptoes, trying to see behind the shrubs and flower beds, past the coral pillars and across the bridge to the next island over.
Taller than her, I’d already spotted the ribbons and flower garlands decorating the merchants' stalls on the outskirts of the fairgrounds by the beach.
“I want to see it,” Maren announced, skipping off the path, then running across a lawn.
Alarm punched me in the gut as the distance between us widened. I couldn’t physically hold her to me. I couldn’t even hold her fucking hand.
“Maren, wait!” I ran after her, crushing the grass into glass dust under my feet.
“But the music... Do you hear it? It’s...beguiling,” she marveled, not slowing down.
“Maren, look at me,” I ordered.
She glanced at me briefly, but it was enough for me to spot the daze in her gaze. Her pupils dilated, black eclipsing the blue. Her mouth parted, as if for a kiss. Her cheeks flushed.
I’d kill to have her look at me like that again and again, but I wasn’t the cause of her reaction this time. A slow, sensual melody curled through the evening breeze like a beckoning finger. Blending with a few other melodies from the faire, the song was subtle but powerful in its emotion.
A searching song.
Some idiot decided to sing a searching song in the crowd, and my darling butterfly was ready to fly to it like a moth to a flame.
The song was easy enough for me to resist, but humans must be exceptionally responsive to siren magic. Either that, or my precious butterfly turned out to be especially responsive to that particular song and to that particular voice, which I simply could not allow.
“Maren. Listen to me...” I sidestepped her, holding up my hands but forcing myself not to grab for her. “You don’t know who the singer is or where they are. What if they’re singing far in the ocean somewhere? You don’t want to swim to them, do you?”
Please say no.
Please...
“I’ll just take a look,” she brushed me off. “It’s such a beautiful song.”
It was lovely. The voice rang strong and rich with emotion. It could equally belong either to a man or a woman, somewhere between contralto and baritone, with the clear, silver quality that was certainly alluring.
Fucking demons of the Abyss, what was I supposed to do? How was I to stop her?
Panic rolled through me in a nauseating swell.