Page 88 of Song of Her Siren

“It’s customary—” Gadea continued.

“Light the fire!” Malvolia shrieked like a dragon with a spear through her chest.

The surrounding firemages hit the pyre at once, flames arcing off their hands in perfect, symmetrical formation as if they’d been practicing for this their entire lives. Maybe they had, and there was some special unit of firemages assigned to pyre duty. Shadows eclipsed my heart as I longed for my mates. If they’d been here, they could’ve explained it.

Gadea removed a scroll from her robes and unfurled it before stepping to the edge of the platform. “Goddess,” she called aloud, “we give you the faithful Areion, Mortimus, who bravely served our queen as her familiar up until his tragic death. We ask that you take him beyond the veil and safeguard his soul until he can be reunited with his queen.”

The flames below Mortimus slowly enveloped his body, adding the stench of burned horseflesh to the cornucopia of rancid smells.

I watched Malvolia, who stood there unmoving, and wondered if she had any blood flowing to her withered heart. I couldn’t let myself become like her. Iwouldn’tlet myself become like her. My aunt was the very definition of impure heart. Had all that talk about that pain she felt, the shattering in her soul every waking minute of every day been sincere? Did she truly mourn Mortimus, or did she only mourn the loyalty he’d shown her?

“Please bow your heads and recite the prayer of eternal slumber with me,” Gadea said, her deep voice caring over the distant roar of the ocean waves and the crackling of burning logs. “In life, these dreams we make. In death, our spirits wake. To the Elements, we ask our souls to take. Amen.”

We recited the prayer together as we watched the flames rise higher, thick smoke rising with it.

In a dramatic flourish of robes, Malvolia descended the stairs without another word, marching along the path back to the castle with urgent strides.

I shared a confused look with Tari as my family slowly descended the dais, following our reticent aunt.

“Please accompany your queen to the great hall for the wake,” a servant called behind us.

Ugh.Tari’s groan echoed in my head.Will this night ever end?

I cringed at that while casting one last glance at the pyre behind us. I was ashamed to admit I’d never really liked that horse, though I thought he somehow deserved better than this hasty funeral. I wondered why my aunt hadn’t said a tribute. Was it because she didn’t care enough about her familiar? Or was there a more sinister reason, like maybe she knew she’d be joining him soon, anyway?

Chapter Fourteen

Shiri

The reception in Malvolia’sthrone room was pathetic, a sad tribute to a queen’s familiar. Only a handful of Malvolia’s guards were present, standing around a buffet of food and wine that could’ve served an entire village. I saw none of her lovers or usual courtesans. Though I hadn’t cared for the flesh-eating monster, Mortimus deserved better for his loyalty to the queen.

The girls didn’t seem to mind the lack of people, for they had the tiered trays of tarts to themselves. They’d already kicked off their shoes, piled tarts they’d never finish onto a platter, and sat at the base of Malvolia’s throne, as if they were curled up in front of the hearth at our old cabin.

Tari clucked her tongue.This is pathetic, she projected to me.

I winced.Yeah.

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