Page 4 of Siren’s Secret

Sinister had kept his mouth shut and Wave still couldn’t understand why. He now held her life in his palm and Wave couldn’t figure out why he was protecting her. If it ever came out that he knew, it would spell quite a shitstorm for him and even the rest of the Powerhouses by association.

Still. She was walking freely, ungagged, and unbound, behind the guards. Nervous energy coursed through her body, but she focused on keeping a straight face and forced her hands to stop trembling.

Taking in the route, Wave looked for any faces she might know but saw none. She hadn’t been allowed any visitors in the cell, but neither had anyone else, so she didn’t take that too personally. She tried to ignore the fact that no one had called her either.

Apparently, that would have been an option.

The weird part was that despite her frayed nerves, memories and nightmares plaguing her, and the upcoming trial that would determine her fate, Wave had never felt so good, so alive. For once in her life, she didn’t need to work on pulling in her aura. The cell helped to contain her power and her powers just kept shimmering, instead of lashing out or tearing at her. She almost felt like a spirit for real.

On top of that, she had screamed enough of her rage into the storm that her siren powers felt satisfied, too. Hopefully, it would take a decade or so before she needed to let loose quite like that again. Preferably, she would find herself a deserted island in the middle of an ocean by then. Wave was strongly starting to lean toward arctic waters. Penguins were cute.

She was guided into a permanent portal and stepped through without hesitation. The voices swelled around her as soon as she was through and Wave wanted to— No! I’m not going to sing them to silence.

Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t take a decade for her siren powers to resurface, but holy gods, they could wait at least a few hours longer, right?

Wave looked around and took in the courtroom. In truth, it looked more like a ballroom, with heavy purple drapes, a high ceiling, and polished hardwood floors. It was also quite full, but there seemed to be an invisible line that no one was willing to cross, leaving her to stand alone on the floor.

She wondered if there would even be anyone standing up to defend her. Probably not. Besides, she was guilty. She had used the magic and power reserved only for the heir apparent. She hadn’t claimed the title, so she had no place touching that well of power.

So what if that power sang to her now that she was out of the cell? It felt right, cradling her bones, but she wasn’t a recognized heir, and that was all that mattered to the Council Force.

From the corner of her eye, she spied all the Powerhouses milling with the rest of the spectators. She was about to be made into an example. Nothing personal on the Council Force’s part, just business as usual. Examples always worked better with an audience.

The only sympathetic, even worried, face in the crowd belonged to Salis. She wasn’t conceited enough to think that they all hated her, but showing sympathy was a dangerous game at this moment.

All the very important people were gathered above on the dais. There were murmurs, glares, and thrown hands from time to time, but no one had called things in order yet. Until that happened, this was all just a bad, if slightly boring, dream.

She looked them over and realized only one being wore the council robes and the other had the judge’s collar. Not a High Judge, just a regular one. Apparently, her case didn’t warrant the High Council’s presence either.

Well, well, well.

Maybe whatever Elena was mixed up in was an even bigger thing than she had thought. That was the only reason Wave could think of as to why there wasn’t a full council present. Usually, they took heir apparent business seriously, even if she was only a spirit.

Wave’s breath froze as one very distinguished figure walked through the dais door. His snow-white hair was combed carefully, as always, and his slate gray suit was immaculate. Despite some wrinkles showing his age, he radiated power, as was his right as the High Lord of Stormbringers.

He looked around with a poorly covered sneer until his eyes landed on Wave and then he stepped forward.

“What is the meaning of this, Wayla?” His tone cut through the hubbub like a knife. How most beings had missed his entrance was beyond Wave’s comprehension. It was almost like missing Lucifer walking into the room—simply impossible.

Heads swiveled to her and Wave shrugged. She knew she should bow, but Wave couldn’t make her spine bend even an inch. Not to him.

Father had taken their secret to his grave to protect her and Mother from him. His greatest fear had been his own family using them if they ever learned what they were. Even her true name was kept from her grandparents, and they knew her as Wayla, like everyone else.

When the silence stretched, he lifted a single eyebrow, demanding to know more. Wave kept her mouth shut, her mind whirring. How had he learned about her trial? He shouldn’t even know she was attending the Academy.

“Lord Stormwell,” the judge said and bowed deeply.

See, that was why you needed High Judges. Regular ones didn’t rank high enough to come even close to impartial. “Wayla Spinwell, a storm spirit, allegedly used heir apparent power and is on trial for that crime.”

This was the first time Wave heard the word allegedly attached to her crime.

“Spinwell? A spirit?” Lord Stormwell turned back toward her, completely dismissing the judge and only nodding in passing to the one council member present. “Wayla, what nonsense is this?”

“Nothing,” Wave ground out.

Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed and the temperature in the room dropped. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence as everyone seemed to hold in their breaths.

“Are you ready to claim your place? You must have gotten over your stubborn streak if you touched the well.”