Towering, view-obscuring rocks. And perched on each one is a woman with wide, feathered wings. As I take in the scene, I realize there are gaps between the boulders and that a siren is positioned near each one.
Georgiana stands above the pass Niko aims for.
I grit my teeth against calling out to him. My urge is to go to another. To avoid that mythic who holds a grudge, if her haughty glare is anything to go by.
But I won’t let pettiness derail my ally.
“The maze isn’t hard,” Georgiana tells us when we get close enough to hear, and then her lips tilt in a smirk. “Simply heed my directions and warnings.”
Warnings about what?
She opens her mouth, and a second later, I’m tilting forward into the water, suddenly dizzy and disoriented. A strong grip pulls me upright.
Niko.
“She sang to us,” he explains, and my confusion clarifies.
Only sirens and their mates can remember their songs. Everyone else immediately forgets and sometimes is left with a magical hangover.
Great. As if I wasn’t worn out enough.
“Let’s go.” I don’t spare the spiteful siren another glance as we pass through the boulders.
We come upon more giant rocks, and I swear I can hear more singing in the distance. I try not to listen, powering forward instead.
“What do you think the warning was about?” I ask, panting my question.
“If I had to guess, I’d say that.” The kappa’s voice is tight, and I stare in the direction he’s pointing to see what looks like a massive fishing net.
A net that’s moving.
19
BRODERICK
Galen’s Gauntletis always arranged so spectators have a decent view of the obstacles that competitors are working through. Which means Owen and I stand on a high bank, easily seeing into the maze, where Ophelia and Niko battle a sentient net. The thing scurries and lunges, moving like a spider, which makes it kind of terrifying.
But they aren’t panicking.
“You can do it,” Owen mutters, gaze intent on the face-off.
I expect him to be half drunk and bellowing, but the selkie seems focused.
How much money did he wager against Seamus?
Just when it appears like they have an opening, Ophelia loses her footing and disappears under the shallow water. Owen’s hand fisting the back of my shirt is the only thing that keeps me from diving into the competition. A second later, she pops up, spluttering water and thoroughly tangled in the net.
The animated trap drags my firebird up a boulder.
“Go, Niko!” I hear her holler. “If I get free, I’ll catch up.”
But she has no knife or claws to rend the thick ropes. I expect a thick wash of orange to flood her aura. Ready myself to hear her panicked screams from the way she’s bound. Captive, like her whole life before Folk Haven. My eyes lock on her hands, and I wait for her fingers to curl and press against her heart.
Calling for my aid.
Owen is going to lose an arm soon if he doesn’t let me go.
She needs me. Niko is going to leave her.
