“Yes,” Gideon continues to answer my questions without complaint. “And right now, it seems, a girl who sings to the Goddess has finally given me something to scratch my head over.”
Rivern interrupts, “You sing to the Goddess?”
Gideon gives a huff at Rivern’s lack of knowledge when it comes to me, his bonded.
Turning slightly in the chair to face him, the bond thrums strong. “Yes, I learnt her song from the old fae tomes in the temple library. Something—maybe the Goddess—drew me to learn. I thought…”
Rivern’s eyes are wide with wonder like this is the first rhythm he has truly seen me. “What?” he asks.
“I thought it would bring back the land. Something is wrong. Our greenhouses barely produce enough to feed all the workers and priestesses within the temple. Who knows about the villagers and where they are getting food. The vines and trees have been shrivelling. I found the books, and they spoke of a ritual. A song, a dedication towards the Mother Goddess. Some notes are hard to reach, I suspect, because I’m not fae, but I sang it to her and...” I stop my rambling, and Rivern’s mouth is gaping open.
Then his face splits into the broadest teeth-showcasing grin. “My bonded sings the Goddess’s song, the lost song of Oona?”
“Arrr, yes?” As a fae, I don’t know why he finds this so impressive, considering they probably sing it all the time in Terra.
“You don’t understand?” he continues in awed wonder.
“No?” I question, confused.
“We lost it. With the loss of our library, the song of reverence was lost centuries ago. I remember my grandmother singing the Goddess’s song when I was a baby, but even that was broken, missing words and sounds. With the loss of Haven, we lost the ancient lyrics and, eventually, her song.”
Unsure how to handle this new level of devotion, I slip my hand from his and clasp mine together on top of the table.The bond is onething, but the way he currently looks at me sets off alarm bells. I’m not his saviour, I can barely save myself. I’m just a girl who has experienced suffering no one else should have to face.
“When?” Rivern’s hand stays firm on my thigh.
“When what?” I reply.
“When did you learn her song?” He gazes deeply into my eyes, and I cannot help but be transfixed.
“A few rotations ago, a book dropped at my feet, and everything within my body told me I needed to see what it contained. It was written in a language I didn’t understand at the time, but was similar enough in some sounds to our own that I eventually figured it out. In it held the words to her song.”
“The ancient language?” Rivern questions.
“I suppose,” I say, wringing my hands on the table.
As my eyes wander over to Gideon, he seems impassive to my story, like the whole thing is highly plausible even though it seems implausible to my own ears. However, I guess, as an immortal being, he has heard and witnessed better stories than mine.
“Last turn was the first rhythm I sang it to her,” I continue.
“Hmmm.” The wolf on the opposite side of the table hums, and Rivern, in his impatience to know more, snaps at him to share with the group. “The full moon?” Gideon elaborates.
I nod, and he continues, “Did you see the stars showering down from the sky?” Looking at Rivern, he seems just as confused as I do. “I’ll take that as a no. In some stories, it is said that when the stars fall, a God is falling. It represents that even the Gods aren’t infallible, and death always follows birth.”
Silence envelops the small room. “Curious. I remember my grandmother sharing a similar story.”
Two sets of eyes burn into me as I make myself busy pulling apart the last of my bread. “Maybe our little songbird is more than she seems,” Gideon states in his roughened, gravelly voice.
My reaction to him can’t be stopped as I say, “I am nothing but an orphan who sought refuge in the temple when my family parted the veil. There’s nothing special about me other than I’ve had to survive like those children starving on your king’s manor steps.” Frustration courses through my body at the thought of the little faces I saw, drawn and dirty. “What’s going on? I saw you dropping food?”
The bond tenses, and Rivern squeezes my thigh.
“Yes, I was dropping them food. As you probably suspect, the farms around the village have perished.”Far from surprising, but I want to know why he’s keeping his people in the dark. “The king has deemed families who mill the land at fault, saying the Goddess is unhappy with their work, so he turned them out of the fields, banishing them. They banded together and marched through the village, making camp on the king’s steps several turns ago. The king does not want to lose the people’s trust, so he has been waiting for the other villagers to turn on the farmers, spreading rumours about them poisoning the land and claiming they serve the darkness. Slowly but surely, the people on the steps are losing their battle. Their only option is to set forth into the mountains.”
Hearing the corruption from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, lights my coals asunder.How can the king do that to his own people? He is no king of mine.
“Surely the people would not be so blind-sighted?" Rivern looks perplexed by this news.
“The people only know one way—the way of the king and his ruling family before. Every century since the humans took over Haven, the land has declined. The king and his ancestors are to blame for their lack of respect for this land. The people only follow what they know, whatever keeps them safe and comfortable.”
