“Is it too late for the magical transport option?” My voice was thin and reedy. She stopped. The smirk she turned on me was when I saw the familial resemblance. It pricked at the defiance he adored and tried to evoke from me. It wasn’t enough for me not to take her hand. Secured against her, I felt heat radiating from her. Magic spiraled around me with a delicacy and unique command. Plunged into brief darkness, I next found myself next to Sayier in the middle of a street where the weather was warmer and the sun shone brighter over the area. A kind reprieve from the prison.
She took the lead as we passed homes with steeply pitched roofs and ornate woodwork reminiscent of Victorian architecture, and others with exposed timber frames and plastered walls like Tudor homes. Smoke curled from stone chimneys, and warm light spilled from windows framed by intricate latticework. Not the sameness of homes with strict HOA requirements. These had personality, texture, and an old-world feel.
“Is this where the other shadow gods live?” I asked, catching up with her.
“Very few. This is where the lesser gods live,” she said. Though her face didn’t show any judgment or derision, it was apparent in her voice. “The shadow gods’ offspring prefer to be regarded as noble gods.”
I would think so. Lesser gods. Really?
“They’re the product of shadow gods mating,” she said. “Often their magic is equivalent to that of ephemeral witches.” We walked on cobblestone streets lined with shops displaying goods behind glass windows. People moved about theirbusiness, most dressed like me in simple tunics and pants, and dresses similar to the one I wore to visit Cirrian.
But scattered among them were four individuals who stood out dramatically, as if they’d been plucked straight from the streets of an ephemeral world. They drew the eye without effort, their beauty whimsical and deliberate. Their wide-eyed allure was paired with magnetic smiles. The man at the front of the quad was the first to draw my attention. Thick locs with midnight tips were stacked at the crown of his head, giving full view of his hypnotically beautiful features: umber skin smooth and luminous, large dark-brown eyes that seemed to soften when they met mine, and a dimpled smile that warmed his entire presence. He wore layered fabrics in shades of deep teal and charcoal, tailored but fluid, the cut emphasizing movement rather than his tall, lean physique. Beside him stood a woman with a fawn-colored complexion; her mahogany hair was cut into soft layers that framed her round face. Her gaze was faintly sharp despite the gentle curve of her mouth. Her assessing eyes sharpened with interest. She stood just over five feet tall and was wrapped in a dress that crossed her body in overlapping folds of pale sand and bronze, the fabric skimming her curves.
The man to her right was close to six feet, just a few inches shorter than the other man. His build was compact and muscular, strength held close rather than displayed. Sandy brown hair was cropped low, clean and severe, drawing attention to light-violet eyes that held a quiet, unsettling intensity. They lingered too long, making it difficult to look away. His clothing was simple: dark trousers and a fitted tunic in muted sea green, but they sat on him with deliberate precision. The fourth, heart-shaped face had similarly shaped lips and a warm, dewy olive complexion. Her simple blue shift dress looked luxurious on her, the fabric catching and releasing light like water over stone.
Their smiles were open, amiable, and unlike the brittle politeness I’d come to associate with Nahela. These held no obvious deceit. No sharp edges. The woman in the blue shift reached for me, her hand slipping easily into mine, while the men shifted closer, subtly circling me as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The other woman’s welcoming smile mirrored her companion’s lips parting as though she was about to speak.
She never got the chance.
Sayier moved, stepping in fast and placing herself squarely between me and the group. One arm swept back, placing an uncompromising berth between us.
“Siren,” she said flatly, the word sharp as a blade. Her gaze flicked over them, cold and unapologetic. “And their companions are tritons.” She ushered me forward. “If you’re invited to the Thalassyn, I advise you to decline—until you’re better at recognizing them and ignoring their lure.”
I glanced over my shoulder despite myself.
They were still watching me. Still smiling.
The pull to follow, chat with them, step back into that circle and let their winsome energy encircle me lingered, growing heavier and more insistent with every moment.
“We don’t have them,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from them.
Sayier nudged me forward. Harder than necessary. I stumbled, lurching ahead, and she had to grab me to keep me from hitting the ground. Her fingers locked around my arm with bruising intent, forceful enough to snap my attention away from them.
“I believe that is a good thing,” she said tightly. “Or perhaps if you did, you would have built up a tolerance. The more you interact with them, the less impact their initial lure has on you.”
That was similar to encounters with vampires. I’d never found vampires nearly as captivating as most humans did during their first encounter. That peculiar, awestruck haze others described had always escaped me.
Sayier stayed close after that, her stride matched to mine, her attention never leaving me as if she fully expected me to break free and run straight back to them.
At the entrance of the brick building, she paused before entering, her gaze flicking to a man passing dressed in a deep purple outfit, similar to hers and with an accompanying vest. Whereas hers was clearly official, his seemed like a more stylish mulberry rendition. Sayier’s nostrils flared.
“Is he a different type of shadow god?” I asked when the tension lingered.
“No, he’s fae. From the Elarith.” She seemed to perceive fae wearing outfits inspired by her uniform as cosplaying shadow gods. “I haven’t determined if it’s mockery or admiration.”
“Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.”
She stopped to look at me, a spark in her eyes as if she hadn’t heard the saying before.
“That’s an interesting sentiment.”
Cirrian effortlessly slipped into the modern world, seemingly familiar with our ways, colloquialisms, lexicon, and behavior. He saw us as an extension of himself—a somewhat inferior extension of himself. In contrast, Sayier gave me the impression that she usually viewed ephemerals as peculiar specimens to be observed with the bewilderment of seeing a different species, but I was proving to be more.
“Sayier.” Her whispered name seemed to float over the air like a musical note.
She stiffened at the man addressing her. I didn’t catch the name she murmured. She simply tossed a look in his direction but didn’t give him the courtesy of holding eye contact, insteadletting her gaze drift to the arched windows of the building we were outside.
“Fae,” she sighed before I could ask, jerking her chin toward the entrance. When I looked back at him, I found that his eyes had drifted to me where it stayed for a long time with a narrowed eyed interest. Not interest…maybe familiarity? Canting his head, his eyes bore into me.
