A Harmony of Hearts: Reverse Harem Siren Romance (Spellsinger Book 3)

by Amy Sumida

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Because he doesn't understand love or loyalty.” Banning handed me the paper. “He never has.”

  “You'll obviously whore yourself for power,” I read and then gasped. “That fucking asshole!”

  “Keep reading,” he said dryly.

  “But that is unnecessary, Son,” I read on. “I can give you more power than your spellsinger ever could. I'm rebuilding the gura for you, and when I'm done, you'll be able to destroy the Falcas and reign as a true king, with the entire blooder world as your kingdom.” I blinked, staring at the white paper like maybe there were a whole bunch of typos on it. “Is he for real?” I finally asked Banning. “Does he truly believe you'd want to take down the Falcas? Great gods; that would...”

  “It would change the balance of power in the Beneath,” Banning whispered. “Yes, I know.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I''m going to handle it, just as I said.” Banning fetched his phone from the table and dialed with angry taps. He put the phone to his ear and took a deep breath. Then he glanced my way and seemed to make a decision; he moved the phone away from his ear and hit the Speaker button.

  A ringing broke off with King Sorin Iliescu's voice, “Banning, my son!”

  “Sorin,” Banning growled. “I received your message.

  “And you've called to claim your birthright,” Sorin said it as a given.

  “You still don't think that anyone could be different than you,” Banning huffed. “Just because you are power-hungry, it doesn't make me so.”

  “I was power-hungry,” Sorin corrected. “Now, I want rid of it all. But you are still young. You must covet strength; you're a blooder of my line.”

  “Receiving your blood didn't change my soul,” Banning said tiredly. “Sorin, I don't want to take control of the Blooder Community and I don't want your gura, no matter how strong you make it.”

  The silence stretched out.

  “But the spellsinger...”

  “I love Elaria,” Banning said simply.

  “But to share her with another... that's madness,” Sorin snapped. “No blooder male would allow his woman to take other lovers.”

  “Elaria needs multiple lovers to live, and I want her to live more than I want her to keep her to myself.” Banning rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. “I don't know why I even bother to explain this to you; there's no way you'll understand.”

  “You're right; I can't understand,” Sorin huffed. “If she must love many men, that's perfectly fine, it happens all the time, but why tie yourself to her? Find another.”

  “I love her!” Banning shouted. “You old, black-hearted fool! Since you can't feel it for yourself, let me try one more time to make this simple for you; love is caring about another person and wanting the best for them. I would kill and die for Elaria. Allowing her to have other lovers is the fucking least of what I would do for her.”

  “Fine,” Sorin said with an air of confusion. “You love her. Why can't you love her and claim your birthright?”

  “I could if I wanted to,” Banning said flippantly. “But I don't. I have no desire to rule the First Court. I gathered my gura carefully, making certain that every member of it was someone I wanted around me forever. They have stood by me through things that would have made most blooders their age run screaming. They are my people, and they are the only gura I want.”

  “We'll see about that.” The line went dead.

  Banning and I exchanged dark looks.

  Chapter Twelve

  The night of the Witch's Ball arrived, and I left the Alexandrite Kingdom—where Banning and Declan would be waiting together—for Coven Cay, alone. I'd return to them after the Ball; hopefully with another man.

  I traveled into Vivian's private suite this time; at her request. She was waiting for me with a smile and a gown. I lifted an eyebrow at the shimmering, gold silk as she held it out to me. It was a perfect foil for the silver she was dressed in. I already had on a simple black sheath, which I thought was elegant and understated.

  “You're supposed to be the entertainment, remember?” She asked me. “You need to look a little flashy.”

  I took the dress from her and admired the heavy weight of it.

  “I've shared our plan with the other witch elders so that they'd open the Ball to the public this year,” she went on. “But the rest of the witches don't know of your spell.”

  “Not even my father?”

  “Not unless you told him.”

  “I told Cerberus, but I didn't tell Dad.” I sighed. “I couldn't bring myself to worry him. He already feels guilty about bringing Thomas into our lives.”

  “Then we must keep up the ruse that you're treating us to one of your precious performances.” Vivian shrugged. “I may have added a little luck magic to the silk.”

  “Thank you, Vivian,” I hugged her. “For everything.”

  “You're important to us, Elaria,” she said sternly. “Saving the realms is not something that we'll ever forget, not any of us. Especially since you did so with our relic. As far as I'm concerned, you're an elite breed of witch—one of us—and witches always look after their own.”

  “Still, I appreciate it.” I slid out of my dress and into the gold silk. It fell around me in a sweeping bias cut that clung to my curves. “And I can use all the luck I can get.”

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes, Fairy Godmother,” I teased her.

  Vivian chuckled. “I know how you meant that, so I won't take offense at you calling me a fairy.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “And this isn't a pair of glass shoes.” She held out the griffin feather from her workroom.

  It had been removed from its leather cord and wrapped in gold wire for a more luxurious look. The wire formed a loop and was strung on a long, gold chain. I took it reverently and slipped it over my head. It hung just over my belly, held away from my body by the curve of my breasts, to dangle in a straight line. My hands went to it automatically, stroking the silky length.

  “I thought the feather cured blindness?” I asked her. “Why would I need it?”

  “There is more than one way to be blind,” she said evasively. “I had a feeling that you should wear it tonight... but it's a loan, not a gift.”

  “I'm honored to wear it, even if it's only for one night,” I said softly.

  “He's on his way, Elaria.” Vivian stroked the hair away from my face. “I feel the spell building.”

  “Yes, I feel something too,” I agreed. “Like a storm brewing; static on my skin.”

  “A storm,” Vivian mused. “Yes; I think that's apt. We're looking for lightning tonight—hoping it will strike.”

  “I'm not leaving until it does,” I vowed.

  We walked into the ballroom together, and heads turned our way. It was just as I'd noted; our gowns were perfect opposites, but so were our looks. Vivian's hair was as pale as mine was dark, and her body was slim where mine was curvy. To top it off, the magic passed down to me through my father was associated with fire, and Vivian was a water witch. Even our magics were opposites.

  We stood just inside the open, double doors, and stared at the crowd as if we reigned the room. I could barely focus; I was so nervous. My gaze skittered over the shimmering gathering; every beneather I could think of was there—except the manticores, thank Persephone. In fact, Persephone was there as well, and she nodded her head to me in regal acknowledgment. Hades clutched her to his side as if he thought she might make a run for it. But that barely registered with me. I couldn't keep my stare on one thing for long. Everything seemed too bright; from the massive, crystal chandeliers sparkling above us, to the lengths of white silk draping the floor-to-ceiling windows. The night was dark beyond the glass, but I swore I could see something moving through it; something predatory.

  “There's my girl!” My father crowed as he strode over to me with my mother, effectively snapping me out of my daz
e. “You two look amazing together.”

  “Thank you, Robert,” Vivian inclined her head to him, then to my mother, and finally to me. “Break a leg, Spellsinger.”

  “What?” My father gasped in horror.

  “She's performing tonight,” Freya explained as she stepped up to us on Cerberus' arm. “That's what you say to an entertainer, is it not?”

  Vivian smiled mysteriously as she swished away.

  Both Cerberus and Freya looked stunning. Freya's mass of golden curls was piled high on her head, with a waterfall of them left to drape down her bare back. Her red dress skimmed her body like another fall of water, clinging to dips and curves, and showing clearly that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Cerberus had a possessive arm around her waist and was casting glares at any man who stared too long at Freya. He was so busy being an alpha male that he didn't realize he was attracting just as much attention as his date. Cerberus' deep-oak hair was brushed back from his striking face, and his matching brown eyes sparkled. He looked dashing in his tuxedo, the breadth of his shoulders seeming wider beneath the tailoring, and his bow tie was studded with silver spikes; reminiscent of a dog collar. One of Cer's most attractive features was his ability to never take himself too seriously.

  “Oh.” Dad frowned at Freya. “I don't know if that saying goes for musicians, or if it's just for actors, but yes; that's right.”

  “You look shiny, El,” Cerberus teased as he hugged me. Then he whispered in my ear, “Go get 'em, tiger!”

  I rolled my eyes at my bestie as I pulled away.

  “You're singing tonight?” My mother asked, her ebony wings shivering in concern. She looked pointedly at my naked wrists.

  One of the most useful gifts that Torin had given me was a pair of onyx lined, silver cuffs that had originally been meant to imprison me. They grounded my magic, allowing me to sing without adding a spell to it; something I'd never been able to do. But I wasn't wearing the bracelets tonight.

  “I'm doing a light spell,” I reassured her. “Something that won't harm anyone.”

  “Oh, all right.” My mom smiled brightly. She trusted me nearly as much as she trusted my father.

  “There's something else you should know,” my father leaned in to whisper. “They opened the Ball to the public this year, and invites went out to all of the realms.” He glanced meaningfully over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, and the centaurs came, so what?” I looked over his shoulder at a centaur who had an earth witch on his back. “When have you been racist toward the horse-folk?”

  I wasn't racist, but I sincerely hoped that my soul mate wouldn't be a centaur. There wasn't enough lubrication in the world.

  My father took a look himself and huffed, “He must have moved. Where is he?”

  “Where is who?” I asked.

  “Torin is here,” Cerberus said simply and pointed in another direction entirely.

  My eyes went round as I saw Torin's family—with him in the center of their group. They were all there; his parents: Duke Maon and Duchess Ceana, and his grandmother: Countess Elise. Torin lifted his gaze as if he could feel my eyes on him, and froze. His eyes shifted to a deeper shade of blue, and my hands started to shake. I thought I could do this—let Torin go—but seeing him there was like a hand around my throat; I could barely breathe.

  “What is he doing here?” My words were the barest trace of sound, but my father heard them clearly.

  “From what I gathered,” Dad said, “his family insisted. His mother wants him to give you another chance. But honestly, Ellie-phant, he doesn't look willing.”

  “Stupid fucking fairy,” Cerberus muttered. “Elaria's the best thing he ever had.”

  “He's obviously a fool,” Freya lifted her head and sniffed disdainfully.

  I looked at the Norse goddess in surprise. Cer always had my back, but this loyalty from Freya was new. We had a good rapport, but we had only known each other for a few months. Freya gave me a nod of solidarity, and my brows shot up further. I guess saving her from death worms had cemented our friendship.

  “Duchess Ceana's a sweet lady,” my mother noted. “She wants what's best for her son, which is obviously our daughter.”

  “Fuck!” I hissed when my brain had caught up to what I was about to happen.

  My parents stared at me in shock.

  “This is going to be hard enough without him here,” I muttered.

  “What is?” My father narrowed his eyes at me. “What have you done, Elaria?”

  “Nothing bad,” I whined (isn't it funny how no matter how old we get, we can revert to childhood in an instant around our parents?). “I needed to—”

  “And now for a special treat,” Odin's voice quieted the room and ended our conversation. The witch elder stood on a stage at the far end of the ballroom, with a band of musicians behind him. “To start our party off on the right note, our spellsinger champion has agreed to grace us with a song. Please welcome to the stage, Elaria Tanager!”

  The crowd applauded as I shook my head apologetically at my parents and hurried off. I nodded to well-wishers as I passed through the mass of people, and then gathered my skirts to climb the stairs to the low stage.

  “May the magic be true and kind to you, Elaria,” Odin whispered before he kissed my cheek and handed me the wireless microphone. “Even if it isn't, we are with you.”

  “Thank you, Odin,” I said sincerely, touched by his kindness.

  Odin nodded, waved to the crowd, and strode down from the stage. I turned to the musicians, and they beamed at me. They'd been prepped with my sheet music and were excited to begin. But was I ready? I turned to face the room, and my eyes went straight to Torin. How could I call another lover to me with Torin standing right there? I nearly walked off the stage. But then I saw Vivian, and her calm stare settled me. She nodded and gave me a gentle smile. Torin had refused to help me; that meant I had to save myself. And there was nothing shameful in that.

  The music began, and I took a deep breath.

  The night Vivian first cast this spell for me, she had made it clear that my song would be the anchor and catalyst for it. Still, I hadn't been prepared with a song when she had instructed me to sing. I just went with the first one that had popped into my head. It had been mulling around in my mind ever since Odin had made his comment about how difficult it was to give me a nickname; an avalanche in the Atlantic. My choice had been even more perfect than I could have possibly known, especially now that Torin was there.

  It had an upbeat beginning; Fletcher's “Avalanche,” you almost expected it to be another type of song entirely. But the beat quickly shifted into something softer; sympathy for a wounded lover that became an entreaty for him to try again, despite the pain of the past. I used the words exactly as they had been written; a hand extended to a man who held himself back. I called out with both my soul and the song to the lover I had been destined for; telling him that I knew his loneliness, and I had the remedy.

  But this wasn't the only message I was sending. Torin's stare darkened to indigo as I sang the secrets of his soul. The heartache that made him withdraw from not only me, but also his court, and the even more painful possibility that there might be more for us. That we weren't over. My lips trembled as the magic filled my mouth and surged from me. I hurt with Torin; my heart bled for his wounds. I wanted to take it all back, rewind our lives till it was just him and I. But I couldn't, and as the song lifted and strengthened, I turned away from the love I had treasured most.

  Something snatched at my chest suddenly; a strong metaphysical grip with the bite of something sharper—claws perhaps. The spell-me shifted in anticipation, sensing the change within me, and my whole body tensed. The lyrics lifted to a challenging crescendo; give me this one chance, and we can forge a love to outlast the stars. Let me in, past your defenses, and I'll show you that we were born for each other. I was singing it straight from my heart to his; I could feel the magic connect with a man who was defined by honor and heroism. It wa
s his whole life, and I was about to change that. I gasped as golden light filled my vision; his soul bared before me. Within the light, I saw facets of the man I was meant for; strength that went beyond the physical, loyalty that could never be shaken, and a heart that once given, would love no other. Oh yes; this was a man I could love forever. Just as my song vowed to him.

  The blinding light of his soul faded away, and I could see again. But still, all I saw was him. My gaze focused on him immediately—an arrow shot straight at my target. He stood across the ballroom, before the main doors, as if he'd just entered. A warrior from another era; he was dressed in chocolate-brown leather and had a sword belt strapped around his lean hips. The width of his chest strained against the layered wrap of his tunic, showing off a swirl of tribal tattoos that continued down his bulging biceps. His face was all sharp lines—from the cut of his cheekbones to the slash of his mouth—but the edges were softened by thick eyebrows and a rounded chin. His hair was worn in a short and serviceable style; honey-brown in color, like a lion's mane. The shade went well with his tanned skin and brought out the gold in his green eyes.