Mav’s fingers moved with quiet certainty. His voice joined the strings—low, smoke-rough, wound with that impossible charm that had always managed to fluster and steady me in equal measure.
“Now, now, no need for claws or dismay?—
For I have something I wish to convey.
No need to fret or panic or pray...
Smile politely while Thistle joins the fray.”
The lyrics were utter nonsense, but the tone was devastating. The goblins swayed. One with a boil the size of a coin began to clap, offbeat and dazed. The goblin behind me faltered, the rough edge of its blade easing fractionally from my throat. Hestared at the blade as if puzzled by its very existence. Then, as if in a trance, it lowered the weapon to its side.
Behind the shifting bodies, a new figure slipped through the shattered doorway—Thistle. While their attention was tangled in the music, she rushed my side and drew a slim blade from her sleeve.
“They won’t stay dazed forever,” she whispered.
Her knife sawed through the ropes. Each cut sent burning pinpricks of blood rushing back into my hands. I could not answer her. I could only watchhim. Mav played and sang as if he had been born to it. Despite being battered and bruised, he was radiant. His eyes were closed, his mouth curved in a half-smile, as if he followed the melody as much as he led it.
The goblins swayed more exuberantly. One stumbled into another and began spinning in circles, giggling. Another dropped its rusted spear and clapped along with manic glee, drool glistening at the corner of its jagged mouth. In the far corner, a goblin wept openly into its sleeve. The air shimmered with the song, thick, strange, and nearing joyful.
The last rope fell from my wrists. Thistle wrapped an arm around my waist, steadying me as I rose on trembling legs. The sudden rush of freedom made my knees buckle. I staggered, clutching her shoulder. Mav’s gaze caught mine mid-verse. And—Saints preserve me—he winked. My heart nearly burst. I might have laughed if my heart hadn’t been hammering itself to pieces.
Thistle and I slipped from the room. The instant we crossed the warped threshold, the air outside felt sharper—clearer without the glimmer of song magic.
“On the horses,” Branrir commanded from the shadows, his face pale and drawn.
Thistle boosted me into the nearest saddle. My boot fumbledin the stirrup, clumsy with adrenaline and aching wrists. She swung onto the second mount, gathering her reins.
Branrir lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled, a sharp, urgent note.
Inside, the music swelled—one last glorious crescendo as Mav sang.
“And now we part with joy and flair,
No curses, knives, or traps to spare?—
You’ve been a crowd beyond compare,
But now I must abscond elsewhere…”
The final chord struck. Mav burst through the doorway at a run. The lute slid across his back in one smooth motion as he vaulted onto the saddle behind me.
“Ya!” Mav yelled, driving his heels into the horse’s side.
We charged forward, hooves pounding. Behind us, the spell shattered. Cheers twisted into screams. Crates splintered, chains rattled, and voices howled with rage as the goblins regained their senses. The forest beckoned us forward, the sharp, clean bite of rain-washed pine stripping away Rouzbeh’s stink. Branches whipped past, clawing at my sleeves and hair. The horse’s muscles surged beneath me, its lungs laboring in rhythm with my own.
Mav’s arms braced on either side of me. His chest pressed to my back, heat bleeding through the cold, anchoring me even as the world threatened to spin apart.
We rode hard. The trees blurred into streaks of green and silver. Fifteen minutes—or an eternity—passed before Branrir raised a hand. We slowed. Gallop to canter. Canter to trot. Trot to walk. The sudden shift felt violent. My body wanted to keep moving, fleeing forever.
I swallowed, forcing words past the lump in my throat. “Why did you not tell me you are a Hum?”
He stiffened. “I don’t go around announcing it,” he said, voice lower now, nearly lost beneath the forest’s hush. “Musical ability isn’t exactly…encouraged for knights.”
“Why conceal it?” My voice was softer than I intended.
A pause. His breath feathered against my ear. “Because it’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?”
