That being said, why wouldn’t she tell me she was going out? It’s not that she needs permission, but there are very few ways to contact each other here.
I can’t stand the thought of her wandering around, a world away from her home.
“I have an idea where to find them,” Finn says with a groan. “If we’re lucky, we can get there before she meets the rest of the family.”
Chapter 26
Marina
As unique as the scenery is, I worry I might be going in circles.
The inlets of land are surrounded by marshy waters, where people of all kinds swim or perch on ledges to listen to the music.
I’ve never been religious. My aunt and uncle didn’t go to church, and I only went with Grams a few times. I was so young I only remember liking the snacks and songs, but there’s something about this that feelsspiritual.
The flower-crown building stations are positioned right in the marsh, between the stages. Beautiful music, plays as faeries and creatures dive into the water and pick flowers, weaving them into crowns. I wonder when—if—Gil gets here, he’ll want to make one for me.
There must be some significance to all of this, and though it’s lost on me, the reverence isn’t. As I walk, I’m hit by a cool breeze and watch the way people, young and old, craft their crowns in earnest. There’s so much joy, and my shoulders relax as I move through the flower-clad crowds. I still don’t know who the “Four Sisters” are, but if I had to guess, they’re Gods in this world—and this is their celebration.
I remain on land, figuring it’s where Angel would look for me, watching a large bumble-bee looking creature weave a crown of delicate sunflowers, next to a Gillarian who takes their time crafting a crown of sea moss and blue bells. When they’vefinished the pair grin at each other, kissing softly, before heading hand and hand into the water.
Come to think of it, there was a photo in Gil’s childhood scrapbook that looked something like this; he and Magnus wearing simple crowns made of weeds, grinning from ear-to-ear. From the snapshot, I wouldn’t have guessed it was something of this scale.
It’s like a magical Coachella. I drift from stage to stage pulled in the direction of the music.
A creature with wings and a beak strokes the strings of an ivory harp, their opal eyes half-lidded and their expression serene.
A man sits perched in a tree that sprouts from the water, playing a flute; his song wraps around my ears like a hug and has everyone swaying in tandem.
So, I wander, watch, and sway while the sun creeps higher in the sky, giant reeds casting strange shadows on the ground.
“—come my mortal queens, lay your head to rest—”
My head snaps in the direction of the singer. Then, as if my legs have a mind of their own, I move toward the melodic voice. A few faces in the crowd roll their eyes and scoff. Others laugh. I can’t understand why; all I want to do is edge closer and listen to the violin that now strikes up a slow rhythm.
“Come my little doves, why won’t you fly into my nest, run into my shadows, run into this dream? Never mind the shine of teeth in the night. They gleam,sharp and wild. Oh, do be brave—don’t you know you’re safe with me?”
The sudden urge to dance pulls at my limbs, the lyrics an invisible vine wrapped around my throat. The feeling drags me closer, and closer, until—
A hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“There you are,” a deep voice rumbles. It’s not Angel, nor Gil for that matter. They bend close, their deep voice in my ear. Isummon enough self-control to meet Magnus’s steely gaze.In his pale, clawed hands he holds two flower crowns.
He must be here with someone.
I must have made a worse impression than I thought; there’s a deadly look in his eyes. I greet him, I think.
If I could just get closer to the stage…
“Marina.” His voice is an ugly hiss in contrast to the lovely music. But there’s an urgency that causes me to nod, which turns into a bobble to a new bassline.
Beautiful.
“Don’t move,” the vampire king orders, placing a flower crown upon my head, and something soft like cotton covers my ears. Ear plugs? I reach up and inspect my new accessories.
“Why—” I begin, but then my dancing limbs are suddenly heavy. As my body stills, my stomach twists like I’ve downed a glass of champagne. Shaking, I glance toward the stage. I’ve always thought music had its own kind of power, but this? This was more than a feeling in my chest.
Magic.
