by Amy Sumida
“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 was 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.
Eyes? How could I see the color of his eyes when he was on the other side of the room? I blinked and realized that he had
strode closer as I sang. The crowd edged back for him as it became obvious that something momentous was happening between us. I stared at the stranger as if I knew him intimately, and he stared back in the same manner as he continued to cross the distance that separated us. My voice rose, ringing out to him powerfully in challenge; Take my hand if you dare.
I reached out to him just as he stepped up to the stage. He was so tall that with me up on that stage, my face was level with his. My heart raced as his scent hit me; musk of man and well-worn leather... and feathers. He smelled like sky and sunshine. I breathed him in deeply as his calloused hand closed around mine. He pulled me forward gently, till I was inches from him. His free hand slid around my waist, and he used it to lift me from the stage in a curving movement that turned into a dance. I sang on as he lowered me slowly to the floor, still holding my hand.
We swayed together as the song slowed and finally ended. I tossed the microphone to the guitarist without looking away from the man who held me. The crowd erupted into applause as the stranger brought my hand to his lips and kissed it lingeringly. Then he glanced down and saw the feather dangling between us. His expression shifted into confusion.
“Where did you get this?” His voice was low and powerful like a predator's roar, but he merely sounded curious.
I blinked, coming down from the high of the spell's culmination, and looked down. He was holding the griffin feather gently, as if he knew how precious it was. Or as if it were precious to him.
“It's not mine,” I said with just the barest trace of magic still roughening my voice. “I borrowed it for the evening.”
He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled deeply, shivering a little through the remnants of the magic coasting over our skin. When he refocused on me, his eyes were greener.
“Who does the feather belong to?” He asked softly.
“Vivian Lake.” I nodded to the side, where Vivian was beaming at us. “She received it as a gift from a griffin who saved her life once.”
The man frowned at Vivian, and then back at the feather. “This is my father's feather.”
“What?” I whispered in shock.
“The feather is of my father's plumage,” he said. “I'd recognize the scent and coloring anywhere.”
“Your father?” I gaped at him. “But that would make you a—”
“What a performance!” Odin's voice rang out, startling the both of us, and serving to remind us that we still stood in the middle of the ballroom. “Another round of applause for our Elaria!”
“Elaria?” The griffin smiled as he said my name, and it made his striking face all the more handsome. “Beautiful; like birdsong.”
“What's your name?” I continued to stare at him like a starry-eyed teenager.
“I am Gage of the Saeiqa Tribe,” he said.
“Saeiqa Tribe?”
“Where I come from, the people are divided into tribes,” he explained. “Mine is the Saeiqa. In English, it means 'lightning strike.'”
“Of course it does.” I started to smile.
Destiny was finally being kind to me.
Chapter Thirteen
Gage lifted his stare and noticed that we were attracting a lot of attention.
“Do you know of somewhere we can speak privately?” He asked me.
“I do.” I used our joined hands to lead him out of the ballroom.
People smiled and nodded to us knowingly as we passed, and no one dared to stop us.
“Who is that?” Gage asked just before we reached the door. “Is he someone to you?”
I followed Gage's stare to see Torin glaring at us. Torin caught me looking, and his eyes softened briefly.
“He was once,” I whispered. Then I turned away resolutely and led Gage out of the room.
“Not anymore?”
“No,” I said and then stopped abruptly. I didn't want to spook Gage, but I suddenly felt horrible about continuing without at least implying that this wasn't going to be perfect. “There are things about my life that will make you want to end this before it starts. But if you give me a chance, I think we could have something special.”
“I know,” he said simply. “I was sent to this realm to speak to the witches, but that's not truly why I came. I volunteered for this task because something—someone—was drawing me here. You, Elaria, and you obviously feel the pull as well. So, you have problems in your life.” He shrugged. “I have things I must handle as well. But I'm not going to leave tonight until I know what there could be between us.”
“Don't say that I didn't warn you.” I smirked and started leading him again.
I took us into the gardens, out into the quiet night, to sit among the overgrown flower beds and breathe in the scent of night-blooming jasmine tinged with salt from the nearby ocean. We found a stone bench and sat in a shaft of moonlight. We were surrounded by sleeping flowers and trees shivering in the gentle breeze, and it all felt so surreal. Had that just happened? Did I really just get swept offstage by a stunning stranger who was meant to be mine?
“My full name is Elaria Tanager,” I said to him, trying to get a handhold on something more tangible, something that would make me feel like this was real. Having some basic knowledge of each other would help. “I'm a spellsinger.”
Gage's eyes widened. “A rare bird indeed... Tanager.”
“Even rarer than you,” I teased him as I flicked a leather strap on his tunic. “What realm are you from?”
“Torr-Chathair,” he said, and my face fell into a shocked gape. “What is it? What's wrong?”
“Torr-Chathair? The Citadel Realm?”
“Yes, why?”
“The reason you came to speak with the witches; it wouldn't happen to be about some olgoi khorkhoi escaping, would it?” I asked him.
“You know about the death worms abduction?” He asked in surprise.
“I helped to send them home,” I said.
“You?” He sounded even more shocked.
“What part of 'spellsinger' did you not understand?” I grimaced.
“My apologies.” He held up his hands. “I didn't mean for it to sound insulting. It's just that I know the beasts well, and I've seen a single worm take three full-grown griffins to wrangle it out of a territory. I couldn't imagine a group of them being sent across the Veil by one person; no matter what race they are.”
“I said that I helped, not that I did it alone,” I noted. “I led the worms home, but it was a shining one king who opened the portal for them.”
“You led them? As in; with your song?” Gage asked.
“Yeah.”
He shook his head in amazement. “You're the pied piper of monsters.”
I laughed. “I suppose I am.” I cocked my head at him. “And you? Are you a shepherd of monsters?”
“A wrangler.” He corrected. “The griffins left this world with the magical beasts; to both care for them and prevent their escape.”
“A man who cares for monsters,” I whispered. “I like that.”
I often thought of myself as a monster. So, a man who could care for such creatures was a plus in my book.
“Those death worms returned to Torr-Chathair unharmed,” he noted with a smile. “I think you care for them too.”
“They were taken from your realm,” I went serious, “and they were obviously scared and confused. When I realized that, I decided that they didn't have to be killed; they only needed to be shown the way home.”
Gage smiled softly and laid his palm on my cheek. “I saw your soul when you sang, and I've never seen anything more beautiful. I had thought it too beautiful to be real. Now, I know that it was not an illusion. It takes a special heart to care for such creatures.”
“I can be monstrous too,” I whispered.
He lifted a brow, but I placed my hand over his and shook my head.
“Another time,” I said as I laid our joined hands in my lap. “Tell me more about yourself and your tribe. Your father is Amaron?”
“
Yes.” Gage smiled as he stroked the feather hanging from my neck. “He mentioned saving a witch once... from a wendigo, I believe. My mother was not pleased.”
“That was Vivian.” I nodded. “She's a witch elder, and you'll probably want to speak to her about the death worms.”
“Then it's fortunate that my father saved her life.” He chuckled.
“Indeed,” I murmured, thinking about Vivian's strange look when she saw me holding the griffin feather. Tricksy witches. She had probably seen a vision then, and she didn't share it with me.
“But I want to know more about you first,” Gage said. “Tell me about your life, Elaria.”
And I did. We talked for hours in that garden, but every time I began to tell Gage about the RS, I chickened out. Yes; I realize the irony—Rooster Spell, chickening out—it still didn't compel me to speak. But I didn't kiss him either; when he moved toward me in the obvious kiss-lean, I subtly shifted away. I promised myself that I wouldn't resort to a physical seduction. I would wait until Gage knew the whole truth before I gave into desire.
But damn was it difficult; the man oozed sex—I think they call that pheromones. Whatever it was, he had it. In droves. I'd have to tell him about the spell soon, if for no other reason than my burning need to kiss him.
Chapter Fourteen
The party was still going strong when we wandered back to the ballroom. My parents caught my eye and gave me some shocked and annoyed looks, but I grabbed Vivian and booked it out of the room before they could corner Gage and me. When we were safely ensconced in Vivian's sitting room, I told her the reason Gage had been sent to Coven Cay. She immediately summoned the other witch elders.
