Myworkshopiscoldwhen I enter it the next morning. I drop my pack and spear and rub at my arms over my thick winter coat as I shiver, looking over the samples that line the nearby wall. My heart sinks when I see the one that holds Cass’s blood, but I force myself not to linger on the sadness that rises. It’s not what he would want, and in truth, I’d rather honor hismemory by working harder to find the answers I’m seeking than allow myself to wallow in his loss.
Moving my magnifier to the center table, I plan out what I’m looking for today. While tests for infusing the blood of one mage with another are on hold until Nox returns, something has been nagging me about the connection of blood and magic and how it all might relate to the Spell. It’s a wild hypothesis, but with nothing else to do besides question the council, I figure it’s as worthy a use of time as anything else.
Leaves crunch just outside the door to my shop, and I look over my shoulder at the small window set into the wood to find nothing but the pale morning light streaming through the barren branches. But just as I’m about to turn back around, something bright yellow darts past the window, too large to be a bird.
Brows drawn, I walk to the door and peer out to the forest beyond, my hand resting on the handle in front of me. It’s early enough that I don’t expect to see many people out, but as I stare out at the trees, something ominous presses over my shoulders, like the feeling of being watched, even though I know I’m alone. Blowing out a breath and cursing the fact that I’m exhausted from a shitty night’s sleep, I drag a hand down my face as I step back. Except when my eyes open, they aren’t staring out at the forest anymore. They meet the emerald gleam of another’s. “Fuck!” I startle, jumping backwards as I stare at the woman. Green curls—the same color as the pillow grass in the training grounds—frame her face, her full lips peeled back in a snarl that reveals two sharp canines. I blink, sure I must be seeing incorrectly because mages don’t have elongated teeth, but then her gaze drops and the doorknob to my shop turns, and any rational thought gives way to instinct as I race for my spear in the corner of the room.
Cold air rushes in behind me, the hairs on the back of my neck rising as I spin just in time to block her sharpened clawsas she swipes at me, instead hitting the spelled wood and metal of my spear. Her chest rises and falls quickly as she studies me, the predatory gleam in her eyes not entirely mortal. Then again, neither is she. Completely nude, the only thing that adorns her dark brown skin is a faint set of shimmering scales the same color as her eyes and hair.
“You are not mage,” I say as I grip my spear tightly in both hands, watching how she shifts her weight like she’s uncomfortable with the feel of her body. And,fuck, she probably is.
“Afraid not,” she hisses, and even in that terrifying sound, there is a note of something beautiful. Something lyrical that floats in the air between us, cascading over my skin in a way that reminds me of that moment on Kai’s ship. Would that happen again if she were to start singing?
Ignoring thehowof it all, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
Her fingers curl and flex, those long onyx talons more menacing the longer I stare at them. “We have come for Rhea Maxwell. She was stolen from the Mortal Kingdom, and our queen demands her return.”
Shock widens my eyes before I can stop it, the siren’s own darkening with hunger as she leans forward. “You know her.” I don’t respond, letting my training slip to the front of my mind as I watch her. I have fought mages with magic and shifters in both animalandmortal forms. Sirens are no different, only wrapped in a more beautiful package. “Tell me where she is, and I will spare your life.”
I smirk, one eye on the front door as a shadow passes it. “Afraid I can’t do that.”
A tongue clicks. “That’s unfortunate.”
Her arm arcs towards me, claws gleaming, the movement fluid but likely slower than it would have been in the water. I leap back and then swing my leg out, connecting with the sideof her knee and making her wobble as her arms lift to balance herself. Darting in front of her, I adjust my hold on my spear so that my hands are shoulder-width apart, and then I slam it into her chest, forcing her back to the shop wall and pinning her raised arms at her sides as she releases a frustrated growl in my face.
“How did you get past the Spell?” I ask. She kicks out, but I avoid it easily, leaning my weight into the spear. “Tell me how you got through the Spell!”
“I’ll die before I tell you.” She snaps her jaw at me and then opens her mouth, and between one breath and the next, her music fills the air. Panic floods my veins, and I lift and spin my spear, plunging it into her chest until her song devolves into nothing but a gurgle.
Chest heaving, I watch as her dark blue blood drips onto the floor of my workshop before yanking my spear out and prowling to the front door. Peeking just past its edge, I bite down on my tongue to keep my gasp trapped behind my teeth at the sight ofdozensof sirens running past me on the main footpath. Some are as naked as the one I just killed, while others don what looks like armor and carry silver spears tipped in colored glass.
“What is happening?” I whisper to myself, turning back to look at the dead female slumped on the ground. If they are looking for Rhea, they are likely going towards the palace. My stomach hollows at the thought—my parents are there. I take a step in that direction like I alone can protect them. But in truth, they have magic. They have more than enough guards, and though it’s beencenturiessince other beings have walked in the Mage Kingdom, they have the means to protect themselves. But there are so many things between here and the palace. The orphanage and library. The training grounds.Fuck. Indecision cements my feet to the ground as I watch more and more sirens flood the forest. I can’t be in three places at once, but— Drawingin a deep breath, I map a route to the beach that’s off the beaten path. That has to be where they are coming from, right? I can’t be everywhere, but I can try to cut them off at the source and weaken them enough that those between the beach and the palace won’t be overwhelmed.
Decision made, I steel my spine as I step out into the sunlight, bolting to the left, directly into the path of a siren with bright orange hair, the ends dancing along her hips. She looks at me, dismisses me, then does a double take when she notices my weapon. Her top lip peels back in a snarl, showing off those unnatural canines. We run towards each other, her arms pumping at her sides with those sharp claws poised to attack. My steps ring loudly in my ears over the crunching dead leaves on the forest floor. Cold air fills my lungs with every inhale, shocking me with its temperature and keeping me alert. She’s close enough to see those glimmering scales inset on her skin, the muscles of her bare biceps bulging with how tightly her fingers are flexed. I time each step—one, two, three—and drop to my knees, sliding over the fallen leaves and cold ground as I duck under her attempt to swipe at me, then swing my spear out and slam it into the backs of her legs.
Hopping up, I turn just as her knees hit the ground. Using the capped end of my spear, I hit the back of her head hard and watch as she collapses to the ground. I hesitate to kill her—just for a moment—before the thought of her attacking my mother or Starla crosses my mind, and I sink the tip of my spear into her chest. I don’t spare her another glance before I pivot and run into the thicker part of the forest, navigating the closely packed trees with a familiarity born from having lived here my entire life. Keeping my steps as light as possible while I run, I search for bright colors that stand out against the dormant winter landscape. They don’t expect anyone to be huntingthem, and I capitalize on that surprise as I use my spear to trip them up andsend the leaf-tipped end into their chests. Or, in the cases of those in armor, into the soft spot of their necks.
Yet for every siren felled by me, there is a handful of dead men I find as I make my way closer to the beach. Most have claw marks to their upper bodies and necks, the sign of them fighting back set in the fists curled at their sides even as their skin turns blue. Others bare no mark besides a single stab wound, crimson blood pooling on the forest floor beneath them.
Those cause the most fury to rise within me because they aren’t just attacking guards who are protecting their kingdom. They are attacking the vulnerable. The men whose only crimes were being genetically predispositioned to be lured by a siren’s song. Which still doesn’t answer how thefuckI was able to be put under their spell, but it seems that whatever kind of siren had called to me on Kai’s ship was not one I had run into yet.
I might have pictured a siren attack to be louder, the normally tail-clad beauties using their song to lure men to their deaths far before they would ever use their mortal forms. But this—an ambush through the Spell on an otherwise unassuming morning—leaves me reeling, and as the sound of the crashing ocean waves begin to trickle towards me, I wonder if there is more to their presence thanjustgetting Rhea back. Which, at the very least, means Nox was successful in rescuing her.
The crunch of footsteps draws my attention to the left, and I quickly press my back against one of the thick tree trunks as I wait for the owner to draw closer.
“They should be at the palace by now if the queen’s memory of its location is correct.”
“It is. She’s had over two hundred years to ruminate on the events of the war; I’m sure she’s mapped out every detail,” another siren answers, and I steady my breath as I grip my spear more tightly.
“Bet she didn’t plan on the fuckingshifters—”
My heart stops. My breathing stops. The entire word stilling around that single word:shifters. The movements are automatic, my mind elsewhere as I step out from behind the tree and right into the path of two sirens, swinging my spear into them both. The one on the left, her hair a brilliant teal, takes the brunt of the hit, her body flinging backwards towards the ground. The pale pink eyes of her companion widen as the sharp silver tip cuts into her stomach when I drag my spear down diagonally. She casts her gaze to the blood pooling on her skin, an animalistic snarl rising from her throat before she launches herself at me, hands thrashing and teeth bared. With my spear parallel to the ground, I block her attacks, her claws scraping against the wood and metal, while I keep my feet moving and circle around her until both sirens are near each other.
The teal-haired one rises on shaky legs, opening her mouth to sing. I can feel her magic slide along my skin, but it doesn’t pull me under its thrall. It does, however, motivate me to end them before they can draw more attention to us. Spinning around, I kick back into the stomach of the pink-haired siren, her huff of breath clouding in front of her before I twist and jab my spear forward. She pivots, but not quickly enough, and the serrated metal dives into the flesh between her ribs, her scream loud enough to make my ears ring. I push my spear in deeper, her eyes flaring before I see the light leave them, then tug my weapon back. I run towards the remaining siren before her friend collapses to the ground and slide on one leg as I thrust my spear towards her. It catches her in the space beneath her arm where it meets her shoulder, blue blood spraying me as I pass.
Growling, she moves quickly despite her injury, and before I can fully turn around, she’s on top of me. Dropping my spear, I send an elbow back into her chest, her wheeze tickling my ear before I spin on my knee and send my fist into her temple. She crumples to the ground, dazed but awake.
“What did you mean by the shifters?” I ask as I climb on top of her, my knee driving into her sternum as my hands close around her throat. Her eyes widen as she blinks, nothing but venom shining in their hazy blue-green depths. “Tell me!”
