As we step out into the crisp morning air, I feel the familiar weight of expectation settle on my shoulders. But it’s lighter today—it always is when I’m able to shed the persona a little and simply have a good time.
We’re greeted by the imposing sight of armored SUVs lined up like sentinels. Tiernan nods to the drivers, a silent confirmation of plans well laid. As we climb inside, the hum of anticipation is palpable. Despite our banter, we share a common purpose, and it binds us closer than any armor could.
Glimmerleaf Academy rises before us, ivy crawling its age-old brick walls, students peering curiously from windows as our convoy approaches. Their middle-ground privilege, neither opulent nor sparse, sets a tone of relatability that steadies my nerves.
“Showtime,” I murmur under my breath, slinging my guitar around front as we disembark to the sound of cheers and flashing cameras.
“Focus on the music, Revelin,” Fiadh whispers beside me, her presence a comforting constant. She prefers shadows to the spotlight, and I nod, understanding her silent plea.
If only that was possible… I have a feeling it won’t be.
“Always,” I promise despite my doubt.
Inside Glimmerleaf’s halls, the enthusiasm is infectious. Children cluster around, their excitement for the day palpable. As I strum the opening chords to a song they all know, their voices rise in a chorus that echoes through the corridors. The press buzzes around us, capturing every smile, every note. But my focus is solely on the sea of youthful faces, each one alight with joy and possibility.
“Who wants to learn a chord?” I ask, and a forest of hands shoots up. We spend the hour lost in melody and laughter, and I can’t help but feel that, at this moment, we are doing something right. Something good.
Fiadh and Khol hang back, content to watch and support, a silent force that keeps me grounded amidst the adulation. They are thequiet strength to my public flair, and I’ve never been more grateful for their company.
We finish up at Glimmerleaf to the tune of shouts and happy goodbyes, piling into our monstrous car to head to the next school
If they all go this well, maybe my bad feeling was wrong.
The SUV rollsto a stop outside Whispering Winds Academy, and I can already see the banners they’ve hung in my honor. ‘Prince Revelin Rocks Our World’ one proclaims in bold, glittering letters. I chuckle, picturing Fiadh’s eye roll at the pomp. She catches my gaze and obliges with an exaggerated theatricality that has me grinning.
They’re never going to let me live this shit down.
“Ready to be worshiped?” Khol teases, his smirk infectious as he nudges my shoulder.
“I’m gonna rock their knee-high socks off,” I retort, slinging my guitar over my back and stepping out into the cacophony of cheers.
The teenagers of Whispering Winds are a different breed from the younger crowd at Glimmerleaf. They’re on the cusp of adulthood, with dreams painted in vibrant hues of rebellion and romance. As I weave through them, sharing anecdotes of tours gone wild and the electric buzz of performing under the spotlight, their eyes light up with a mixture of awe and aspiration.
“Did you always know you’d be a star?” a girl with emerald green hair asks, her voice tinged with hope.
“Know? Maybe not. Dream? Always.” I flash her a wink and strum a power chord that earns a round of whoops.
“PlayMy Sparkling Star,” calls another student, and I oblige, the familiar melody spilling out effortlessly. Fiadh and Khol clap along,blending into the background yet ever-present. It feels good—no, it feels amazing—to connect, to share the music that thrums in my veins.
As the laughter fades and we prepare to leave, I’m buoyed by the genuine appreciation in their send-off. This is what it’s all about: inspiring the next generation, leaving a trail of melodies and memories in my wake.
The SUV is quiet again until the lass looks at me with a genuinely pleased expression. “You’re so damn good with them, Revvie. How is that?”
I shrug, my cheeks flushing at her unusual honesty. “Lots of siblings, remember?”
“Mmm,” she says, looking out the window.
It feels like she has something important she wants to talk about, but Golden Meadow Academy for the Gifted looms on the horizon like a gilded fortress, and the shift in atmosphere is palpable. The students here don’t cheer; they appraise, their gazes sharp and calculating beneath perfectly coiffed hair. We’re not in Kansas anymore—or, more accurately, not in the unpretentious halls of Glimmerleaf or Whispering Winds.
“Prince Revelin, is it true you’ve banged half of theSilver Sirensband?” a boy with a sneer too practiced for his age inquires, and I bristle, but before I can respond, a girl with eyes like polished ice turns to Fiadh.
“What’s it like living in the shadow of such a star? Being so plain and unconnected, it must be hard not to feel out of place.”
What the actual goddamned fuck?
Fiadh’s hand twitches toward her pocket, where I know she keeps those wicked brass knuckles of hers. But she reins in her temper, offering a tight smile instead. “It’s certainly humbling—something you could use a good dose of.”
Khol snorts, and even Dezi, ever the epitome of composure, smirks. I catch Tiernan scanning the crowd, his eyes narrowed in silent warning.
