“Then how did you really figure it out?”
“I told you—you didn’t react to my music.”
“My lack of enthusiasm for an unprompted panpipe solo is enough to suggest that I’m cursed? Isn’t that just a little self-absorbed?” She folded her arms across her chest, absently stroking the top of Bean’s head with the tip of her finger.
He mirrored her stance, minus the dragon—a distinction that only served to add insult to injury. “I’m a Bird Catcher.”
“So you’ve said, and yet I’ve not seen you catch a single bird.”
At least she didn’t try to argue that it wasn’t a real occupation. Progress, I guess?
“So is my father. And his father, and my great-grandfather, all my uncles, and every male in the generations going back as far as any of our records care to recall.”
She answered him with nothing but a tilt of her eyebrow.
Jax sighed as he shoved a hand through his hair. “If there’s one thing that I’ve been raised to understand, it’s birds. Our magic is specifically focused in bird song—how to replicate it, how to manipulate it, how to communicate through it. My magic should have worked on you, but it didn’t.”
“You said music before.”
“Music, magic—same thing.” He waved a hand.
She gave him a flat look. “I’ve seen magic firsthand. Boris does not sing.”
Jax tilted his head, listening to the magic around him. “Magic does seem to work differently here. Where I come from, it’s channeled and shaped by music. Your realm has many of the same songs, but…” He wrinkled his nose. “They’re all out of tune.”
“What do you mean, ‘your realm’? Are you implying that you’re from a different one?”
He could hear the note of skepticism in her voice. “I’m not implying anything.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not implying, I’m stating. I came from Faerie. I’m not exactly sure how I got here, other than that there’s a wizard out there with some explaining to do, but I’m not a permanent resident of this realm.”
She blinked, her blue eyes wide and luminescent in the moonlight. “You’re from Faerie,” she repeated slowly.
“Yes. The Spring Court, to be exact.”
“And the magic that you learned there is how you knew that I was under a curse.”
“Kind of?” Jax rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Even though I was able to get my magic to work on the other birds, it didn’t on you. I could hear that your song wasn’t right for a swan, but until you wereyouagain, I didn’t realize why.”
She dropped her arms to her sides, losing the defensive posture she had taken. “What do you mean?”
“In Faerie, every single creation of the Almighty has a song. Learning to hear it, to change it, is how we use magic to affect the world around us. I know what a Swan song should sound like; yours was different. It sounded like a melody forced where it didn’t belong.” He paused for a moment as realization dawned, “Which actually makes a lot of sense, considering the fact that it literally was. You’re not supposed to be a swan.”
“Hmm.” Odessa nodded slowly, dropping her gaze to her feet as her face turned contemplative.
Jax’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s it? No further questions? You’re not going to ask for proof?”
“Why would I need proof?” She looked back up at him and threw her arms out wide. “It’s not as if I’m unaware of the existence of magic. I am literally a swan for half of my waking hours.”
“Fair point.”
“You said you could hear the curse,” she continued carefully. “Does that mean that you could use your magic to break it?”
He saw the moment that hope, bright and blazing, appeared in her eyes, and his heart ached with guilt that he was forced to dim the flame. “Not with my magic,” he admitted apologetically. “I’m a Bird Catcher, not a wizard. I can’t alter someone’s song like that.”
“Not even when I’m a bird?” she whispered, pulling her lips into the ghost of a trembling, brave smile.
