The Last Lullaby (The Spellsinger Book 1)

by Amy Sumida

  We'd already traversed Jasper, and I was told we'd have to ride through Opal, Citrine, and Amethyst before we reached the Onyx Kingdom. Then we'd have to go through several Onyx villages before we came to the castle. And all this traveling was being done in a wagon, which took significantly longer than if we'd simply rode out on horseback. But we needed the wagon to haul the instruments and to look like true traveling musicians. People on the road for long periods would have supplies, too many supplies to carry on the back of a horse.

  I was nervous about making camp in the woods, and sleeping out in the open. I was not into bugs or stretching out beneath the stars. I preferred to have some solid walls and a roof over my head. But the men assured me that we would stop at inns to rest each night; there wouldn't be any kind of camping involved. Also, as musicians, we were sure to receive warm receptions at these inns. So at least that fear was put to rest. It was a shame there was no assurance to be had over killing King Torin.

  We were indeed welcomed warmly in both Opal and Citrine, where we stopped for the two nights we were on the road. It gave us all a chance to practice together, though it was a delicate procedure. I obviously couldn't use the same intent I would employ when singing for King Torin, but I couldn't sing without spellcasting. It was one of my biggest gripes about my magic. If I tried to simply sing a song for pleasure, the magic would scramble inside me, demanding release. If I didn't mentally direct it into a spell, the magic would choke me, literally lodging in my throat, and blocking my ability to speak, until I gave it purpose.

  So I had to come up with another focus for the song. That actually wasn't the hard part. The problem was that once I sang a song in a particular manner, my magic grew accustomed to it. The more I sang it in that way, the more accustomed my magic got, until it simply added it to my arsenal of lyrics I could whip out at any moment. This was usually a good thing. It allowed me to sing something quick without too much focus. However, in this case it meant that I'd have to concentrate harder when I performed in Onyx. And that wasn't the only issue. “Desire” is a sexy song. There was little else to use it for, beyond seduction or slaughter. Since I didn't want to kill anyone before I reached Onyx, my only option was seduction.

  Singing a randy song in a Shining One tavern was bad enough. Adding magic to the words amped up the bawdy blend of loose women, horny men, and general fairy freakishness into a stew of simmering sexuality ready to boil over. Making it unmolested to my room each night had been a feat of diplomacy and physics that I wasn't prepared for. At least the musicians had enjoyed themselves.

  When we finally arrived in Onyx, the musicians were sexually sated and musically confident, ready to play our assassination song. We had even discussed our escape. The instruments would have to be left behind, possibly used as weapons to clear our way out of the room. Then we would split up and run for it. It's harder to chase six people, running in six different directions, than a group going one way. I didn't work with others often, and never in such a capacity, but I was confident in the musicians. We were as ready as we could get.

  We rode through several villages, stopping only once for some lunch before we continued on to the castle. The sky was darkening to deep indigo by the time we rumbled past the Onyx Gardens. Statues of sea creatures, snarling beasts, winged monsters, and imposing Shining Ones ranged out in a wide swath around the dark castle, looking far more foreboding than the sapphire statues had. Perhaps it was the sin-black stone, which gleamed silver in the light of the glowing moon. Or maybe it was the shadows cast by the looming guardians, which seemed even darker than the gemstone. I don't know what gave me the willies, but a shiver coasted over my arms. I had a fleeting urge to jump down from the cart and go running home.

  “We're not in Kansas anymore,” I whispered to myself. “What did you get me into, Toto?”

  “What was that, my lady?” Rupert, our drummer, asked me.

  “Uh, nothing,” I muttered.

  “We're here; it'll be over soon.” He smiled at me, but in the shifting moonlight, it looked more like a leer.

  “All right; good,” I nodded, ignoring my misgivings, then swallowed hard as the Onyx Castle loomed before us.

  Sapphire had been beautiful, but Onyx radiated power. There were no faceted stones in its edifice. No sparkling light or patterns of alternating textures. It simply seemed to flow up out of the ground, going from rough rocks at its base to polished onyx at its crest, as if its king had summoned it forth like that. Several wings spread out from the main tower, making the castle seem more like a city than a single building. A fortification instead of a palace. Out of its far-reaching base, several sturdy keeps rose. Then, around and on top of the keeps, stood numerous minor towers. They shot up toward the sky aggressively, a battalion of soldiers with their spears at the ready. Their placement led the eye inward, toward the main body of the castle, where the central tower dominated.

  There was light filtering out from the castle, but the glow didn't reach us. It was confined by the massive walls that surrounded the edifice. Funny, Sapphire didn't have walls around their castle, but Onyx, with its menacing looks, added even more of a “keep away” vibe with their defenses. The courtyard gates were guarded by a full retinue of fairy knights, and my stomach started to clench when I spotted them. If I had to make a run for it after killing Torin, I'd need to sing my way past these guards too. That was a lot of singing. No wonder Finbar had wanted to see me in action against the blooder army. But a blooder was practically human when compared to the magic of a Shining One knight. The odds against my survival were climbing steadily.

  I rubbed my arms as a chill breeze blew by, and the wagon came to a lurching stop. Rough, male voices demanded to know who we were and what our business was at the Onyx Castle. The fairy musicians explained cheerfully that we were traveling about, singing at all the Jewel Courts, and wanted to offer our services to His Majesty, the Onyx King. If he wasn't interested, we'd be on our way. Oh yes, very casual, no big deal. It doesn't matter if you let us in or not.

  The guards conferred with each other, and I looked over to see them exchanging secret smiles. Those smiles set warning bells to ringing in my head. But I calmed myself when I realized that it was probably just the prospect of some entertainment that had them excited. Sure enough, the guards asked how soon we could be ready, and as they waved us in, they started conversing animatedly among themselves over what time they'd be done with guard duty. So perhaps I was being paranoid.

  We found a place to park the cart, and then quietly unhitched the horses. Riding horseback would make for a much faster getaway. The cart would have to be left behind. We loosely tethered the horses so they wouldn't wander. Then we gathered our stuff, and headed to the main doors. I helped to haul some of the drums since I had no instrument of my own.

  It had been so easy to get in. We didn't even need to provide much of a story. Those gate guards had heard that we were musicians, and that was all they needed. Based on that, I thought we were just going to waltz right into the dining hall, and this would all be over relatively fast.

  But as soon as we stepped into the castle, a steward herded us into a small room off the antechambers. He directed us with the air of a man who'd done so numerous times before. Then he launched into a speech on what was expected from us and what we could expect when we were brought into the dining hall. He went over how he wanted us to walk in, where exactly we would place ourselves, and asked us how many songs we had prepared. The usual schtick wherever musicians went. Then we had to cool our heels for a bit.

  When the time finally came and we were led into the dining hall, I was actually nervous. I hadn't been nervous about singing in decades. But the whole atmosphere of the place seemed to be geared toward intimidation. It was an entirely different feeling from that in the Sapphire Court, and I wasn't at all surprised to find that no one, and I mean no one, was making out in the dining hall, despite it being mid-meal when we walked in.

  There weren't random tables or w
eird decorations either. This was a clean, well-organized room, with tables placed in neat rows down each side, and a high table set horizontally at the end. No elevation required; it was obvious who was in charge there. The Onyx King didn't need height or glitz to proclaim his power. His throne was elegant and understated, carved from ebony and stained even darker. His clothing was dignified, unadorned by jewels or frills, and predominantly black. He sat behind a sleek, ebony table, and wore a thick band of onyx, with a low point in the center, for his crown. The man had a thing for black.

  And damn if he didn't look good in it.

  I felt my jaw unhinge as I laid my eyes on the Onyx King for the first time. The musicians were busy around me, setting up their instruments in the space before the high table. It wasn't a long process, but it seemed to take forever as I stared at King Torin. And he stared back.

  Blue eyes. That sounds so plain. So common. But these eyes were the shade of the deepest, clearest, glacier-fed lake. They seemed to shine from within, as if his magic could barely contain itself and needed a way out. Those eyes matched the gleaming highlights in King Torin's blue-black hair, which fell haphazardly around his face and over his shoulders in silken disarray. Wide and muscular shoulders that belonged on a linebacker or a lumberjack, not a fairy king.

  In fact, Torin's entire body was impressive, built bigger than any fairy physique I'd ever seen. I wouldn't be surprised if he had some human blood in his ancestry. Or maybe some loup. Werewolf genes would explain the swarthy tint to his fair skin, but his features were too striking for wolfkin. A slender nose was bracketed by high cheekbones, and he had a sensual mouth that slowly smiled at me.

  Oh fuck, he was a fairy sex god.

  I nearly forgot to sing as the music rose around me. But then it called to me. The low thuds, like a heartbeat. The scraping squeal of guitars. The unformed magic undulating up inside my chest. Waiting for me to transform it into something powerful with my voice. Music was my life, as important as the blood in my veins, and I knew that if there ever came a day when I could no longer sing, I would be as good as dead. That was the weakness I had to accept. The flaw that kept me cautious, if not humble. Kill my voice, and you kill me.

  I started to sing, my hips rolling to the erotic grind and whine. The sensual words suddenly seemed appropriate. Achingly appropriate. I didn't want to kill this man. I know, it was really unprofessional of me to let a handsome face sway me, but damn, what a waste. I wanted to do all the naughty things I was promising him. Images of bare skin and blue eyes formed in my mind, and went to war with my prepared intent. I pushed them away. I'd already accepted payment, and the magic was filling me. The entire room would sense the spell in seconds. Either I killed the Onyx King, or he would surely kill me.

  Yet I found myself confessing to King Torin with the help of the lurid lyrics, explaining that I had to do this, I was sent there to destroy him. I wanted him, but I must murder him. I had no choice.

  I wove the words around him, setting my trap, holding him hostage. I couldn't risk King Torin calling on onyx. Then the song started to delve into darker regions. Darker and dirtier. A drowning serenade of seduction and hostility. I found myself connecting with the music in a carnal way, nearly purring to the Onyx King about the wicked things I wanted to do to him. It was so wrong, feeling aroused during a kill, but I realized it was the only way I'd get through it. I had to trick myself into believing this was about sex, not death, or I'd never be able to deliver the fatal blow.

  By this point, he should have been paralyzed. But instead of his being frozen in fear, King Torin's eyes were filling with lust. His chest was starting to rise sharply with his rapid breaths. His hands clenched on the arms of his throne. He was listening to my song, but wasn't falling under my control. The Onyx King was enjoying my performance. I tried to push away the unease and regret I felt, and sang out the line that was meant to kill a fairy king.

  My voice echoed around me, vibrating through the air like a swung sword. There it was, the moment he should have been torn apart from the inside out. Killed in an instant. A merciful death, if a bit messy. But King Torin was unharmed. Alive and . . . smiling. Oh gods, he was smiling.

  Then I felt it- the pull, the drain. Something was absorbing my magic. As soon as it left my mouth, the spell was grounded. Nullified. Just another pretty melody without any physical power to it. I faltered, stumbling over the words, and the Onyx King stood. He made a swift gesture, his eyes never leaving mine. Knights rushed out of the crowd and seized the musicians. The music died a squeaking death, and my spell died with it. I gasped as my hands were grabbed and roughly yanked behind me. Then I was gagged for the second time that week. I screamed futilely against the leather, fought against my restraints, and got nowhere but more firmly bound.

  Torin, the Onyx King, strode over to me, and I finally saw how huge he really was. Way over six feet tall, but that wasn't uncommon for Shining Ones. It was the breadth of him that was so surprising. Muscles for days. All over. Amid the sleek Shining Ones, he seemed massive. A monster of a man. Damn. This guy had killed Galen's sister? It must have been a quick death. As I hoped mine would be.

  “What an erotic song you chose for me.” King Torin looked me over slowly. “And you were going to kill me with it? That seems more like something a succubus would do than a spellsinger. But not nearly as much fun. As enticing as your words were, I think I'd rather have the succubus. At least she would have made good on her promises.”

  The Shining Ones around me laughed, and I blanched. Oh fuck, I'd been set up. But why? How? Was it Galen? Why would the Sapphire King hand me over to the Onyx King? Why go through all this subterfuge? If King Galen had wanted me dead, he could have killed me himself. He was definitely strong enough.

  “I don't believe you truly desired to kill me, did you, Spellsinger?” Torin gently brushed a lock of my hair back from my face.

  My blood chilled, my body shivered, and my throat constricted. He wasn't going to make it fast. My death would be slow and very painful.

  “No, you didn't. I saw that in your eyes. Regret. And you didn't know what you were getting into either. Poor little bird. Let's put it behind us, shall we? Welcome to my court, Elaria Tanager. Welcome to your new home.” King Torin turned to his knights. “Take Ms. Tanager to her chambers”-he barely spared a glance for the musicians-“and kill them.”

  The musicians started to scream, begging for their lives.

  “Fine.” Torin held up a hand and they quieted. “Kill all but that one.” He pointed to Rupert. “You will return to the Sapphire King and tell him to stop fucking with me. I ceased being amused by his incompetence after his fifth assassin. Tell Galen that I have her, the Spellsinger, and that he just let the most precious woman in all the worlds slip through his fingers. To waste her on an assassination attempt was foolish. Tell the Sapphire King that if he would stop sucking on his wife's tit for more than five minutes, he might have figured out how important Elaria Tanager was. But now it's too late; he's delivered her right into my hands, and I will use her to destroy him.”

  Torin's gaze went back to me as the musicians were dragged from the hall, most in one direction, Rupert in another. The Onyx King looked me over with supreme satisfaction. He nodded to the men holding me, and I was dragged away too. Precious indeed. The only reason this guy thought I was precious was because he believed he could make me into a supernatural assault rifle.

  I was so fucked, but at least I wasn't dead.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was strapped into a chair, a rather comfortable chair actually, and then my guards and I waited patiently for the Onyx King to join us. Some of us may have been more patient than others.

  I searched the room while we waited, my eyes frantically looking for a weapon or a way out. I found neither of those. No windows, no sharp implements, no doors beyond the one we'd entered through. My chair was facing that door, placed perfectly in line with it. These guys were good at building tension. But then, they'd probab
ly been perfecting the art for centuries. Or maybe they watched a few imported spy movies. This could be a strategy stolen from James Bond. Thanks a lot, Ian Fleming.

  The image of a bunch of Shining Ones sitting around a human-made television, watching OO7 while they took notes, did make me smile. Combined with the fact that I wasn't facing imminent death, it also made me relax a bit. Where there's life, there's hope, and all that other suicide hotline crap. But seriously, as long as I was breathing, there was a chance for escape. In fact, with my skill set, it was pretty much guaranteed. I started to smile wider against the gag.

  When the Onyx King finally entered the room, I lost that smile. I was struck again by how gorgeous he was. He was the kind of handsome that hit you in the face and left you gasping for more. That unreal kind of attractiveness. But more than that, the man had a presence. Charisma. The room felt smaller with him in it. He just walked in, and bam! It was hard to breathe. Damn, it was always so much worse when the villains were beautiful.

  King Torin nodded to the guards, and they left, giving him sharp bows as they passed. A knight closed the door behind him, and locked us inside the bedroom. It was a luxurious bedroom too. Even more beautiful than the one the Sapphire King had provided me with. The walls were hung with cream silk, as was the four-poster bed. The carpets were plush and crimson, the furniture delicate and gilded. It was the room of a fairy princess. It even smelled pretty. And Torin, with all his aggressive masculinity, still looked perfectly at ease within it.

  “Elaria Tanager.” The Onyx King sat in a slightly more masculine chair than mine. His voice was deep, but not as deep as Cerberus's gravely rumble. Torin's was more tiger than freight train, with a sexy purr to it. “You're a long-awaited blessing.”