AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Beyond the sheer curtains, a form lingers under the night sky, sitting on a cushioned stool taken from within the sitting room. With barely a glance, I know who it is, who plays this song that might break me and put me back together at the same time.
I should leave him to it, let him play in peace. Why else would someone play alone at night? But the pull is too hard to resist. Him or the song, I can’t say.
Cool marble tickles my bare feet as I cross to him as silently as I can. The stringed instrument—maybe a large violin of sorts, but I can’t be sure—rests against his shoulder. The body of it stretches down across his chest to rest in his lap, leaving his hands free to slide the bow and press the strings.
Sigurd’s eyes are closed, and the planes of his face relaxed, as if in sleep. But he’s certainly awake. Between the moonlight painting him in grayish blue and shadow, the music, and the peaceful aura he exudes, it’s a sight more stunning than a masterpiece.
I curl up on a pillow with my legs tucked under me on the balcony floor, content to linger despite the chill of the night.
After some minutes, he draws the last note of the song to its end. His eyes blink open, and I’m treated to a rare and genuine smile.
“I hoped you might come.” The words pierce me as deeply as the song, sliding into the cracks it left in my defense.
“Why is that?” My voice sounds harsh, grating by comparison.
“You had a good conversation with your uncle?” He sets the instrument aside, propping it against his stool.
“Yes.” I smooth the silky nightgown down over my legs. “It was much better than I expected.” So much more than I can put into words. I thought I’d want to run after five minutes, but we spent most of the day together and planned more in the future. Even if it brings the sting of being away from Gran back, it’s completely worth it. “It was nice to be out too. To see the valley, the farm.”
I glance that way, but the remainder of the balcony blocks my view.
Silence lingers, filled with his steady, relentless gaze that has my insides twisting themselves into knots.
“Your song was lovely,” I say. “Sad, but beautiful too.”
His genuine smile nearly cracks my heart anew. “Thank you. Music has a way of calming me. It always has.”
“What bothers you that you need calming?”
Sigurd hunches over his forearms on his knees. “The better question would be what doesn’t.”
“The Court of the Forest?” I guess.
His jaw stiffens, and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. “Moria has her commanders keeping an eye on things,” he says. “They haven’t advanced beyond their territory, but they haven’t retreated either. Then there’s the Unseelie.”
That word sends a shudder racing through me. Everything about it screams wrongness. “What about them?”
He stands, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders. “They seem to be gathering together.” He wanders to the balcony and leans on the railing, surveying the land beyond. “Bands moving around and joining up with one another.”
I join him, keeping a healthy amount of space between us. “That’s odd?”
Sigurd nods. “Odd enough. They’ve always been rather disparate, living in small groups, each ruled by a warlord or elder. This coming together is strange.” Lines form on his forehead as he squints into the distance. “It’s almost like they’ve found a new king. But it’s been an age since the last one fell, and the magic failed to choose a new one. Why would one arise now? And how? For what purpose?”
So many questions, but they’re not directed at me. This is why he played, the burdens and worries that he hoped the music would drown out.
“Why tell me all this?” I ask.
His fingertips slide across the railing in a smooth, hypnotic rhythm before he turns to me. “It’s…helpful to talk about it. Moria advises we strike first and take an active stance before they can become more of a threat. Hawke, ever the opposite of his sister, suggests caution. Send in more spies, find out what they want, and negotiate before we strike.” He pauses, his head tilting to the side. “What do you think?”
I look out over the valley and rub my necklace between my fingers, letting the metal settle my thoughts. “I don’t like war or violence. But I believe in being prepared and not letting others take advantage. I suppose it depends on what these Unseelie are like, their nature. Monstrous, I’ve heard. How so?”
“Their magic is more…base—blood, darkness, and brute strength rather than the elements of our world. The ages have wrought their change on their appearance as well, turned their form more animalistic.”
My blood runs cold. “Animalistic,” I echo. “You mean they don’t look human?”
“A mix. Most walk on two legs and have a similar structure, but yes—fur, fangs, horns, wings, and all sorts of animal features.”
The world tilts on its axis, and I grip the railing to keep my feet. Sigurd continues to speak, but it’s all a humming buzz I can’t make out. The fae I met in the forest and today, the one like a cat, has to be Unseelie. It fits. More animalistic in appearance and different than the other fae I’ve met. But why here? Why help me?
