How (Not) to Soothe a Siren (Cindy Eller Book 9) (9 page)

I squeezed his arm. I knew that he would have fought with all his might, if possible. That he hadn’t been able to shake off the siren’s song said just how strong the Magic had been. Timothy’s Magic was a match to my own. If he couldn’t fight, I wouldn’t have been, either.

“True evil takes away our freedom under the guise of giving us exactly what we want,” Merlin said, his serious tone at odds with his ridiculous appearance. “They make us hand over our own free will, and, once it is gone, there is no way to recapture it.”

My mother nodded at his words. “Anything that takes away our ability to make our own choices is by nature bad,” she agreed. “I guess we have Whisper to thank for keeping a clear head in the midst of danger.” She offered the golden horse a regal half-bow.

If horses could blush, Whisper would have turned hot pink. As it was, she closed her eyes and dropped her head slightly, her long eyelashes fanning across her cheeks. She sighed contentedly.

“When we get home,” I told her, “I am going to give you anything and everything that you want—even if you want an apple of immortality every day.” I scratched her withers, where horses liked scratched the best. “Thank you. Thank you for giving my family back to me.”

Gealbhan tossed his head and snorted, I thought in agreement.

“Thank you, too,” I murmured to him. “Thanks for trying to tell me that everything was OK.”

Now that the danger was gone, now that my family was safe, now that I could think clearly again… I fell apart.

“Hey, hey,” Timothy crooned, sliding off Whisper’s back so he could help me down from Gealbhan. He held my shaking body closely. “We’re OK. Not a hair on our heads has been harmed.”

“I know,” I gasped. “It’s just—relief, I guess.” I clung to him, with Asher snuggled in the middle of our arms. Our son reached out and grabbed at a wisp of my hair, completely oblivious to what had just happened, or almost happened.

The weight of Timothy’s arms around me was grounding. He anchored me. His voice in my ear, the scent of him in my nostrils… here was my safe place. Everything was OK. Whatever could have happened hadn’t.

I set my teeth. My hands curled into fists.

The siren had gone too far. In trying to take my husband and son from me, she had declared war on me.

That witch was going down.

I
was a long moment before I was together enough to realize that our guide, the Huntsman, was absent from his usual space of looming on the road ahead of us.

“Coward,” I muttered.

“No,” Asher said clearly. “No. No. No. No.”

“What are you saying ‘no’ about, huh, little guy?” I asked, swooping him up in the air and making him laugh. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get into that stage until you were two!”

Asher blew a raspberry and stuck his foot in his mouth.

“Babies, like cats,” Merlin said, seriously, “appear to be made of paradox.”

A rustling in the grass alerted me that we were not alone. Gealbhan shifted, letting me get a better look.

Faerie was a strange place. I should have expected anything.

But, I hadn’t expected to see seven barefoot maidens wearing white gowns, with their long hair flowing down their back, waiting patiently for us to realize that they were there.

“I hope we did not startle you,” the girl in the front, with the long golden hair, said, her voice a soft alto.

The other maidens giggled softly, as if she had uttered something hilarious. I believed they might be tittering. I had never actually heard a titter, though I had read that they existed. I thought I might be encountering real, honest, tittering in its natural habitat.

Even if the gowns, hair, and white dresses—not to mention the ridiculously beautiful faces of the maidens—had not alerted me that the girls were Magical, I could not have missed the aura of power around them, even if I’d been blindfolded and drugged for good measure.

“I believe we have you to thank for our timely rescue,” I said.

“Oh, pooh,” said the strawberry blond. “We wanted to surprise you.”

“It’s not like we walked out here barefoot or anything, Aurora,” said another girl, this one with copper curls. She shivered delicately. “We would have gotten all muddy.”

“Girls,” the leader said, her voice gentle. “Do hush up.”

“Yes, hush up, Nuala,” Aurora hissed. “They’re going to have the worst impression about us.”

Someone behind me snorted. I thought it might be Madi, but I couldn’t be sure.

The leader sighed deeply, her eyes pointing to the sky as if she was praying for patience. “My sisters and I welcome you to our land,” she said, her voice musical. She shifted and her gown fluttered, as if it had been made of thousands of feathers.

“Seven swan sisters,” Merlin said, a rather feline smile spreading across his face underneath his atrocious beard. “So… serendipitous.”

Now it was my turn to stifle a snort. Once a cat, always a cat, I supposed.

Unlike the ice giants, I had met swan sisters before. They almost always lived and roamed in groups of seven—which, I supposed, had was because seven was a Magical number, which could offer them safety and security. Like selkies, swan sisters changed form by donning or doffing their Magical skins. Like selkies, they did not just have Magic—they were Magical by nature.

“We have been expecting you,” the leader said. “My name is Viveka. We have prepared a space for you to rest for the night.”

“And talk,” Aurora interjected.

From the expression on her sister’s face, she was used to Aurora’s interjections.

“And talk,” she agreed, her perfect lips curving in a slight smile. “Do follow us.”

In a flash of light and feather, the seven maidens were gone. In their place, stood seven particularly handsome swans. As one, they lifted their wings. With a heavy downdraft, they lifted into the air to soar above our heads.

“I wonder what it would be like to fly like that,” Timothy said. I thought his tone was almost wistful. He smiled at me. “Can you imagine—not needing anything but your own wings to carry you?”

“What I want to know is, what happens if a swan maiden is born with severe vertigo,” I said.

“Simply stunning,” Merlin murmured, shaking his head. Apparently, he was going to stick with alliteration.

Cats. Or familiars. Or…whatever.

We followed the lead of the swans across the brilliant green of the grass that stretched around us. We came over the crest of a hill and found the sea facing us.

White sand stretched as far as my eyes could see, waving here and there with the kind of grasses that only lived in sand like this. The ocean itself was still a faint line of dark grayish blue, with the occasional whitecap visible as it tossed itself along the shore.

To one side of us, a river flowed slowly, meandering down to the shoreline. The water was so clear and shallow, that I could make out every detail of the soft, sandy bottom. More of the hearty grasses and reeds lined the river.

One, by one, the swans dropped out of the sky to land in the water. One by one, their feathers flashed in a brilliant show of light, and their maiden forms reappeared, smiling and splashing each other.

On the side of the river where the grass grew soft, and golden-green, I saw that a camp had been prepared for us. Two of the sisters threw salt-laden wood onto a fire, where speared fish were already cooking. A nearby wooden bowl was already overflowing with gathered greens and herbs.

Shelters had been made of large sheets of what looked like linen canvas. The insides were lush and comfortable, just the sort of luxury one would expect inside a castle, or in a room fit for a princess. Everything, I noted, was hand-woven out of the same tough, but sleek fibers.

I slid off Gealbhan’s back, more than ready to flop down into any seating available. I knew Asher was going to want to eat soon. I just wanted to rest my bottom on something that wasn’t going to move.

“Be at home,” Viveka said.

It was no hardship at all to sit and nurse Asher, looking out at the incredible scenery that surrounded us. The selkie land had had a beauty, too, but one darker, more austere than this place. This, to me, felt like I had stepped through the looking glass into a paradise.

Tiny sea birds dotted the sand, running around on stilt-like legs. Some of these, I noticed, appeared to have miniature riders on their backs, cheering their mounts on as they stalked snails and sand fleas.

Even Faerie had sand fleas. And mosquitoes. And the occasional vampire. Once again I was reminded that Faerie was Magical, not perfect.

“Can we please play with the baby?” Aurora asked, standing in front of me, with her hands pressed together. She bounced slightly on her toes, her expression eager and child-like.

I looked down at Asher. He had finished eating, but it didn’t look like he had any inclination for sleep. His bright blue eyes were wide as he gnawed on his fist and stared up at the billowing canvas over our heads.

“Yes, of course…” I said. I didn’t get a chance to add any words about being careful, for Aurora had already swooped in and taken Asher with her. Giggles of delight filled the air. The swan sisters twirled and danced around with my son, making him gurgle and laugh with delight. One of the girls, with golden blonde hair, sat him down on a blanket while the others offered him various things to play with.

I blinked. What kind of mother was I, if I didn’t even know that Asher could sit on his own?

A soft voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Would you like to join me?” Viveka said. “I’m going to my garden.”

The way she spoke the words ‘my garden’, told me that this was an honor she was bestowing on me.

I glanced around at my companions. My mother and Timothy were just visible as they walked along the shoreline. As I watched, Timothy bent over something and looked up at my mother. I smiled to myself. No doubt, he was getting some sort of educational lesson on Fae sea life.

Merlin had curled himself into an impossibly tiny ball—one that made me believe again that he had once been a cat—and was snoring delicately into the finely woven fabric of one great pillow.

Madi and the two soldiers were still attending to the horses. Merlin’s great Shire had already rolled in the sand, and both of the soldiers were brushing away with grim expression.

I wished them luck.

“I would love to join you,” I said, climbing to my feet with less grace than I would have liked. Here I was, surrounded by the graceful forms and faces of swan sisters, and I was creaking along like a gargoyle who had slept too long.

I followed Viveka through the long grass. It swished against the swan maiden’s skirts, making a soft, sighing kind of sound.

This was the last place I would have expected to find an orchard, but as we climbed, that was what came into view. It was neatly fenced in and immaculately tended. My orchard back at home was half-wild, but not these trees. Each branch had been lovingly tended, as if it were a piece of bonsai perfection, not an orchard at all.

I lifted my nose as we drew closer. Heady sweetness, not at all unpleasant, filled the air. It tasted of honey and citrus and sweet basil.

Viveka swung the gate open, inviting me to enter.

“This is amazing,” I breathed, spinning around to take in the orderly squares of green things. One side of the garden was devoted to vegetables, while the other side boasted trees of more variations than my own orchards. I could see everything from pears to nuts, and in all stages of development, some just budding leaves, while others were heavy with fruit. There was no doubt that Magic was at work here.

Viveka smiled serenely at my reaction. She delicately touched a blossom with the tip of one finger and bent her head to inhale the fragrance.

I followed her lead as we wandered through the garden, gathering legumes and lettuces of all sorts, colors, and sizes, before heading back to the trees.

“I love fruit,” Viveka said, closing her eyes as she but deeply into a silvery pear. “I crave it terribly at times. What is your favorite fruit to eat?”

I considered. “Pomegranates, I think,” I said. “Though there are so many amazing flavors. I don’t think I’ve eaten fruit from half of the types of trees you have.”

Viveka’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. I don’t believe there is a single garden in all of Faerie quite like my own.” She gestured for me to follow her. The basket in her hand was growing full, but she didn’t seem to notice the weight. She swung it as easily as she had when it was empty.

The last section of the garden was full of berry plants and bushes. I saw gooseberries of silver, green, and purple, tiny scarlet strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, not to mention the innumerable berries that I had no name for. The baker in me felt half wild. I wanted to taste them all—to add them to my inventory of flavors. I wanted to know which ones would be best for fresh eating, and which were just begging to be put into a pie.

“How?” The word burst from me—half out of admiration, half out of sheer jealousy. “How can a place like this even exist?”

Viveka offered me a half-smile. “That is something we will speak of with my sisters and your companions. It is… quite a story.”