A bark of laughter escaped her, and she looked wryly over her shoulder. “You really don’t believe in holding back, do you?”
“As my dear old Mormor used to say, ‘Faint heart never won fair maiden, and the questions unasked will always remain unanswered.’” Jem paused for a beat. “But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
She turned her attention back to the path in front of her. “It’s not exactly a secret. My voice was so damaged that it has taken months to recover. I can’t sing, which means I can’t perform magic. It might just be temporary, but it might also bepermanent. There’s really no way to know for sure, except to give it time.” She swallowed against the painful lump in the back of her throat. “Anyway. Erik was quite upset when he found out, and it’s the reason why he broke off our engagement.”
“Because you were sick and lost your voice?” The incredulity in Jem’s words warmed her heart.
But then, he’s human. They both are. They have no concept of what not being able to make music means.
“It might seem strange to you, but a large part of Faerie culture revolves around what kind of fae you are and what kind of magic you can do. Erik said he was willing at first to overlook my Naiad blood because I at least had a strong Natural magic. But once that was gone…” She shrugged. “I wasn’t enough.”
Casper stopped suddenly and turned on his heel. Sienna had to lean back to avoid running into the swinging lantern in his hand. It illuminated his face, highlighting the planes of his cheeks and the dark hollows under his eyes. His eyes bore into her own, and the tone of his voice brooked no argument.
“Erik is a fool. He held one of the greatest treasures in this or any realm in his hand, and he threw it away because he was afraid of losing his social standing?” His teeth clenched. “I don’t know if fool is even a strong enough word to describe him.”
Just as quickly as he had turned, Casper was facing forward again, leaving Sienna reeling.
What was that all about?
A few moments later, they passed through into the cavern room. Casper held the lantern high, allowing it to cast its light over the space.
“It looks like someone has been busy.”
Just as before, the middle of the room was stacked with crates of uniform size. Sienna counted nearly a dozen of them as she circled them with Casper and Jem. Jem pointed to the label on one of the wooden planks. “It’s Hollander’s alright.”
Casper cursed softly.
Jem reprimanded in a sing-song, “Language, Captain.”
Casper rolled his eyes but sent a gruff apology in Sienna’s direction as he handed her the lantern and began pulling and tugging at the wood, looking for a loose plank.
“What do you think is inside?” Sienna watched him curiously. He seemed more upset than mystified, as if he knew what he would find when he opened the crates and was not fond of the answer. The loud squeak of nails being pulled out of fresh wood echoed off the walls, and Casper set the board he had just removed to the side. Sienna moved closer, eager to see what was inside.
Pieces of straw used as packing material fell to the ground as Casper reached in and pulled out a leather portfolio, held shut with a string wrapped several times around a double-sided hook. He quickly undid the string, revealing the edges of a stack of papers. He thumbed through them, and his expression darkened.
“What is it?” Sienna peered over his shoulder
“Music.”
“Music? Why go to all this trouble for music? We have plenty of that here.”
“Not like this.”
She frowned. “What do you mean? How do you know?”
He closed the portfolio with a heavy sigh and lifted his eyes to her. They were sad and full of regret.
“Because it’s mine.”
Casper refused to say anything more, and they walked back to the lighthouse in thoughtful silence.
It’s obvious that Casper feels responsible somehow, but so far I have yet to see anything that indicates that he actually is culpable. And from what Jem has said, this seems to be a habit of his. I wish I understood what’s going on.
After wishing the men goodnight, Sienna ducked out the side door and walked around the house to the woodpile. She started gathering as many logs as she could with one arm.
“There you are, little Enna. I’ve been looking for you all day.”
She jumped and let out a squeak of surprise, scattering the wood on the ground. “Erik? First of all, don’t ever call me that again. Second, what are you doing here?”
