The Last Lullaby (The Spellsinger Book 1)

by Amy Sumida

  “Which were?”

  “First, that we never try to take over the human world again.” He waved his hand as if that were obvious. “And second, that we allow them to leave a relic within Tír na nÓg. A magical object that would awaken should the truce ever be threatened.”

  “Like a warning bell?” I frowned. “Does it alert the witches if the Shining Ones begin scheming to invade Earth again?”

  “No, actually, the warning is for us.” Torin looked deathly serious. “The witches had been right to attack us. If the Shining Ones had taken Earth, it would have upset the balance of magic. The Veil between Earth and Tír na nÓg would have faded and possibly disappeared entirely. If that piece of the Veil was ever to fall, what do you think would happen to the other boundaries? The rest of the border?”

  “It would fall as well,” I whispered. “Like a disease, the fade would spread until there was nothing left to separate the different planes of existence.

  “Yes, precisely,” he agreed. “So this relic was left here to warn us against our own hubris, our own destructive natures. Because if one portion of the Veil fell, all of the worlds would fall with it. The damage would spread until the Veil disintegrated, and the planes would merge. Then the strain of several layers of matter, all trying to occupy the same space, would result in a cataclysmic explosion. Nothing would survive. Less than nothing. I've theorized that the result would be a black hole.”

  “Scary,” I nodded, “Horrifying even, but what has this relic to do with me?”

  “The witches swore that if the relic ever awakened, a champion from their world would come to claim it.” Torin stared at me intently. “This warrior would be someone rare, someone special, and someone who was only part witch. The witches knew their own limitations, and the relic they created was too powerful for any of them to wield. The warrior would need to be a halfling, a witch whose blood was strengthened by another race. There have been endless debates over what the other half of this witch warrior would be. Perhaps part fey, part shifter . . . or part god.”

  “And you think that's me?” I laughed. “The half-witch warrior come to claim the relic?”

  “Elaria.”-Torin shook his head-“I've read the scrolls myself. They say that one such warrior will be born every five hundred years. Each new birth frees the previous soul from its responsibility to the relic. If the relic awakens, the current warrior is drawn to Tír na nÓg, pulled to the relic itself, and then they shall forge a bond. Together, the relic and warrior will quell the uprising and reinstate the truce.”

  “Five hundred years?” I asked, and he nodded.

  I recalled something my mother used to say about the strangeness of spellsinger births. They seemed to occur once every five hundred years. Like clockwork. To the exact day, and even occasionally, to the exact hour. All spellsingers had the same birthday. May first. Beltane, the witch festival of growth and protection. The perfect birthday for a warrior. A guardian. A shiver coasted over my skin.

  “No.” I stood abruptly, sending my chair crashing back onto the onyx tiles. “No fucking way. I'm not a warrior witch. The magic is in my song- that's all.”

  “Elaria.” Torin got up and approached me carefully. He reached out slowly, as if to a startled horse, and took my hand. “Maybe you aren't the warrior. Maybe I've read the signs wrong. But there's one more thing you should know before you turn your back on this.”

  “What?” I whispered, not really wanting to hear it.

  “The relic has awakened.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The relic has awakened?” I blinked. “What is this? Dune?”

  Torin had been so serious, so intent, it took him a few seconds to respond to my joke. He blinked back at me, then let out a surprised laugh.

  “No, this isn't a person; it's an object.” He tugged on my hand. “Come with me and I'll show you.”

  “You've got it here?” I smirked. “Has it been keeping you up at night, claiming that it's the Kwisatz Haderach?”

  “No.” He wrapped my arm around his as he led me through the garden. “Do you always use humor to deflect uncomfortable conversations?”

  “Yes.”

  “At least you're honest.” He chuckled. Then we reached a soaring, glass wall, and he pointed out through it. “Look there.”

  I looked in the direction he indicated. It led my gaze off into the distance. A mountain so sheer, and so perfectly formed, it was practically a pyramid, rose above the varied landscape. At the mountain's apex, a light shone. It sparkled with a multitude of colors, making it seem opalescent. As soon as I saw it, my whole body lurched forward into the glass. My face made a resounding thump when it hit.

  “Ow.” I cringed, and pushed myself away, not registering what had really happened. “What the hell? Did you push me?”

  I glared at Torin in accusation, but he was staring at me in wide-eyed wonder.

  “You didn't push me, did you?”

  “No,” he whispered. “Sweet stones, it's true. You're the awaited warrior.”

  “Now, hold on.” I rubbed at my nose. “I probably just slipped.”

  “You were standing still.” Torin shook his head. “It was the relic calling you.”

  I risked another glimpse back at the light, and again, I felt a physical pull. But this time, I was prepared for it. I stood my ground. Just barely. My body shifted forward, making me feel like a piece of metal being drawn to a magnet, and a tremor coursed through me. I took a deep, horrified breath, and laid my hand to the glass. I could feel it, that witch relic, and the longer I stared at the light, the stronger that feeling became. Until suddenly, I saw it.

  The image was HD clear. I saw the relic waiting atop all that stone. An ancient guardian anxious to get to work. It spoke to me. Not with an actual voice, but with intent and emotions. Claim. Defend. Kill. I inhaled sharply. Oh, it was angry, very angry. The magic of thousands of witches had been poured into it. All that power, just sleeping on a mountaintop like a hibernating dragon. Now someone had poked the beast, and it was grouchy. Aren't we all, when we get woken up too early?

  It also knew why it was awake. Yes, it was sentient. It sensed that someone had disobeyed the truce, and now it wanted that someone to pay. It needed them to pay. As far as it was concerned, the fate of all the worlds depended upon making that person pay.

  And it wanted my help. No . . . it demanded my partnership.

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “Not for me. Don't want it.”

  “What?” Torin gaped at me.

  “I can't help you.”

  “You're the warrior.”

  “Nope, you've got the wrong girl.”

  “Elaria.” He sighed. “I know this is a lot to take in. The responsibility is”

  “Not mine,” I growled. “I don't have time for this shit. Look, I'll go home and call my dad. Maybe he can recommend someone to come out and help you.”

  “Recommend . . .” Torin made a huffing sound of disbelief. “That's not how this works. You feel it, Elaria. You know you must wield that relic.”

  The pull rushed through me again, even though I turned away from the light. It had taken root already, and I knew I wouldn't be able to leave Tír na nÓg. Not because Torin would try to stop me- he wouldn't have to. My own body would betray me. I wouldn't be able to make it fifty feet in the wrong direction. Torin was right. This wasn't something I could just say no to. I had a feeling that if I tried to head away from that relic, I'd simply turn around and run faster toward it.

  “This isn't me.” I swallowed hard. “I don't actually fight. I sing. The songs do the fighting for me. I'm not a warrior- I'm an occasional killer. There's a big difference. You can hand a child a gun and turn him into a killer, but one weapon doesn't make a warrior. I don't care how strong that thing is; I simply don't have the necessary skills.”

  “Yes, you do. You don't have to fight physically,” Torin said gently. “You will stand at the back of the army and sing, that's all.”

 
“That's all?” I scoffed.

  “That and whatever else the relic requires of you,” he shrugged. “But I don't believe it will be physical.”

  “This isn't even my fight.”

  “Did you miss the cataclysmic explosion portion of our conversation?” Torin asked snidely. “Of course it's your fight. It's everyone's fight.”

  “Why doesn't someone just explain this to whomever is trying to take over Earth?” I huffed. “Just tell them what you told me. I can't imagine anyone would risk destroying all the worlds in order to conquer one. That's just plain stupid.”

  “The promise of power can make even the smartest of men ignore the truth,” Torin sighed. “Galen believes he can keep the Veil intact. He has a team of sorcerers who have promised him that they can create a magical counter balance that will pull back the energy, should the Veil ever start to fade.”

  “Wait . . . Galen?” I blinked in shock. “You're telling me that the Sapphire King is the one who's plotting to invade Earth?”

  “Why do you think he sent you to assassinate me?” Torin gave me an impatient look. “He could never beat Onyx in a war, so he's been sending assassins to kill me before it comes to that. I'm his strongest opposition. I've been petitioning the other monarchs to band together and stop Galen before the warrior was called to claim the witch relic and a war became unavoidable.”

  “But then Galen brought me here.” I made a sound of disbelief.

  “Yes, the irony was not lost on me.” Torin smiled. “In trying to clear the way for himself, he only placed a bigger obstacle in his path.”

  “You really believe I'm this relic-wielding warrior?”

  “The onyx spoke to me.” He shrugged. “Yes, I believe it, and judging from the look on your face, Elaria, I think you believe it too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I went back to the table and sat down. Torin followed me a little hesitantly, and reclaimed his chair while continuing to watch me. I pulled my iPod out of my bodice, tucked the earbuds in, and hit play. I didn't care what came on, as long as it was music. I needed something to relax me. Something to take my mind off this situation long enough for me to work it through. I know that sounds crazy, but studies have shown that the brain works better when you don't force it to think. I always find solutions in the songs, but that might just be a spellsinger thing.

  Then I realized that I could sing.

  I mean, duh, yes, of course I can sing. But with my new bracelets, I could sing without casting a spell. I could simply enjoy the music. I started to smile.

  “What?” Torin asked. I didn't actually hear him-my ears were full of Halsey- but I saw his mouth form the word.

  Instead of answering, I sang the lyrics to “Castle.” A fairy tale of old kings and new queens. Misogyny given a furious, yet elegant, middle finger. The melody made its tick-tock climb to an ethereal apex, and then slowly slid down to a rocky bottom. An insistent, bring-it-on type of song that was perfect for my mood. I stood and spun happily, allowing the rhythm to shift into my soul.

  Torin stared at me.

  I went on, singing the fantasy, loving the lyrics for just being words, sounds to sway to without any magic to direct. I let them shift me closer to the Onyx King, and then I started to dance. I went on singing, and Torin went on staring, but he also began to smile. The fairy tale unfolded between us with a magic that had nothing to do with me being a spellsinger . Torin stood and shifted forward, sliding his hands around my waist. I followed the lead of the lyrics, and trailed my fingertips across Torin's lips playfully.

  Torin took an earbud out of my ear, and put it in his. “You need to learn how to share.”

  He pulled me closer, and we began to dance.

  The song became a protest, then a cry of conquering. I let it carry me along. No direction, no intent, only the music. I placed my palm on Torin's chest and began to enjoy the simple satisfaction of singing to a man. Just singing, and maybe tempting a little. The words took on a personal meaning suddenly. They were both warning and seduction. I wouldn't be an easy conquest, but I would definitely be worth the battle.

  Torin's hands slid up my back, sexy but not too grabby. I liked that, and I liked being close to him. In the middle of the music, that freedom of singing without focus, I allowed myself to like all of it. Everything had become complicated so fast. I needed this moment of pure pleasure, simple happiness. So when he picked me up and spun me, I found myself leaning back into it, and laughing through the next line. And when Torin lowered me back to the ground, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held tight.

  Torin didn't ruin the moment by trying to kiss me. He just swayed with me like we were teenagers at our first dance. Nothing too crazy, just a slow bit of motion to go with the melody. It wasn't till after the song ended and I was left staring up into those darkening eyes that I felt a growing presence around us. I frowned, and as soon as I did, Torin looked away from me. And then he smiled.

  The man had a smile that could make sirens weep.

  “You have an audience.” He nodded to our left.

  I turned, and found the lurking presence I'd sensed. A crowd of Shining Ones was staring at us, waiting for me to look in their direction before they launched into applause.

  “What the hell?” I scowled. “Why are they doing that?”

  “Why?” Torin grinned and gaped at me simultaneously. “Because you have an amazing voice. Because they enjoyed listening to you sing.”

  “Enjoyed listening,” I blinked as the next song started to play in our ears. “I can't remember the last time someone applauded my singing just because they enjoyed the sound of it. Maybe my mother, when I was little.”

  “That's ridiculous.” He frowned, then saw that I was serious, and frowned deeper. “How is that possible?”

  “I can't sing without casting a spell.” I shrugged like it didn't bother me. “For me, a killer song is quite literal, and if there's applause when it's over, it's not in response to my voice.”

  “Well you have an eager audience now.” He held his arm out to me.

  “What do you want?” I scowled at him.

  “Come now, Elaria.” Torin smiled wickedly. “Don't tell me you're shy.”

  “No, of course not.” I huffed. “But . . . you want me to sing? For them?”

  “Why not?” Torin took the buds out of our ears. “I have a sound system you can plug this into.”

  The crowd continued to watch us, listening avidly to our conversation with hopeful expressions. They were mostly members of the court, but there were a few servants huddled at the edges, including my maid, Sara. She gave me a taunting look, the little minx. She probably knew that would compel me more than any amount of cheering.

  “Wait.” I hesitated. Torin's words finally registered with me. “You have a sound system? As in a human-made stereo?”

  “The whole dining hall is wired.” He squished up his face in offense. “We are not heathens.”

  “Then why don't you have cars?” I shot back.

  “Ghastly things.” Torin shook his head. “They spew pollution into the air. The only thing a sound system spews is music, and we Shining Ones love music.”

  “Huh.” I considered it. “How do you power it? You don't have electricity here, do you?”

  “No, we have something much better,” he smirked.

  “Magic? You figured out how to use magic to power human technology?”

  “Not I, personally, but yes,” Torin said. “I'm told it wasn't that difficult. Energy is energy. Magic can create lightning, and lightning is a form of electricity.”

  “I didn't notice any power outlets,” I said.

  “Outlets? No, we aren't restricted by such things. Magic functions more like a Tesla Coil, transmitting energy wirelessly.”

  “So my iPod?”

  “Charging as we speak,” Torin smirked. “Would you care to connect it to the stereo now?”

  “Okay, but I get to pick the play list.”

  “Of co
urse, my lady.” Torin winked at me as I took his arm. Then he looked at the others. “The Lady Elaria has consented to sing for us.”

  They cheered. These people, whose king I'd come to kill, actually cheered for me. So weird. But then maybe they knew the prophecy too. Maybe they, like Torin, thought that my arrival was a blessing, and that I was a savior instead of an assassin. I looked into Torin's impossibly blue eyes and wondered if he was right. I had felt the pull of that relic. I knew I wouldn't be able to leave Tír na nÓg without at least holding it in my hands. Did that mean I was destined to defend Earth from an army of Shining Ones? I couldn't fathom it. Frankly, it was ridiculous to think that I could go from mercenary to messiah. But a little, teensy-weensy part of me wanted to.

  And I discovered that I liked the sound of applause.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I woke up on a throne.

  I'm not kidding, and I don't mean a porcelain throne either. I woke up the next morning, draped across an ebony throne, with Torin leaning against the foot of it, his cheek pillowed on my thigh. At first, I had no idea how I'd wound up there. Then it all started to come back to me.

  “Oh gods,” I groaned and sat up, dislodging Torin.

  Torin yawned, and stretched languorously, coming awake easily and with the grace of . . . well, a king. Hell, the man looked royal even when he was stretched out on the floor before his throne, instead of in it. Speaking of which . . .

  “How did I end up in your throne?” I peered around the room to get my bearings.

  We weren't the only people passed out in the dining hall. Or was it a throne room? There was a throne in it, but I think it was just Torin's dining throne. He probably had another one someplace else, where he did kingly things. This one was for eating in, and apparently for passing out across. Anyway, there were lots of Shining Ones strewn about the hall, passed out in heaps and rows with other Shining Ones. Thankfully, all of them were clothed, and I didn't recall it being different at any point in the evening. Which was probably why I had stayed long enough to pass out in a throne, instead of running to my room to hide from an orgy. Perhaps not all fairies were freaks after all.