Page 40 of Song of Her Siren

I fought back the emotion that clogged my throat.If you need to talk, Shiri, I’m here for you. You are my blood, my twin, the other mother to my children... And the better sister, I wanted to add, though I knew I’d only sound like I was feeling sorry for myself. For years, she’d watched while our mother favored me over her, and she never resented me. Then she took care of my children as if they were her own without complaint. She was definitely the better sister.

Her smile was warm and kind, the same loving smile our mother gave me as a child.As long as you don’t try to kill me, my mates, and my future children, we won’t end up like them.

I would never. I might have been imperfect, but I was nowhere near as bad as our aunt.

She faced me, squeezing both my arms.We’re not Malvolia and Flora. I love you.

And I love you.I choked back a sob, throwing my arms around her.I’m sorry for the way I acted after the girls were born, I said to her through thought, too cowardly to speak the words aloud.

You were in mourning.She hugged me back, wrapping her arms completely around me.I would probably do the same if I lost my mates.

I didn’t want to think about my debilitating depression all that time I’d believed King Fachnan had killed Ash and Finn. Thank the Goddess that Helian and Radnor had saved them in time.I wasn’t there for my babies...or for you. I was wallowing in self-pity.

We can’t change the past, sister.All we can do is learn from our mistakes and move forward.She squeezed me tighter, rubbing my back like she was consoling a child. I didn’t deserve her.

I rested my head on her shoulder while praying we never ended up despising each other like our aunt and mother.Our parents were fools not to realize you were the better sister.

She pulled back, cupping my cheeks, her eyes shining with sincerity.It doesn’t matter what they think.

I swiped moisture from my eyes.You sure?

Like I said—she averted her gaze, looking out the window—we need to move forward.

I knew her words were as much for herself as they were for me and that she hadn’t moved forward. She still hurt. Fool that I was, I had thought it was from losing the girls and her mates. While that may be true, I realized her deeper source of pain stemmed from our mother’s rejection. Our mother had never treated Shiri right. Our father Derrick hadn’t been much better. Neither of them had ever apologized, and Shiri still bore the burden of their mistrust.

* * *

Shiri

TELL ME ABOUT COURT, Tari projected to me as we stood on a low platform while servants undressed us in the privacy of my wardrobe.

I chewed my lip, thinking how best to answer her while the girls admired the sparkles in the court gowns that hung on the rack in front of us. I was relieved that Malvolia had gifted Ember and Aurora with beautiful lavender and blue gowns, for it meant she welcomed them at court. Good thing, because Tari wouldn’t separate from them. Hopefully, this was Malvolia’s peace offering, and she was ready to be on her best behavior.

Inwardly, I laughed at my momentary lapse in judgment. Expecting Malvolia to behave was like asking a dragon not to breathe fire.

Heaving a sigh, I finally answered Tari through thought, knowing the servants would report every word we said to their mistress.Everyone dresses like clowns while wasting food and dealing with Malvolia’s moods.

Lovely, she replied, scowling down at a servant who shoved her feet into pearl stockings.Maybe we shouldn’t go.

No, we should go, I answered.Our absence will only make Malvolia’s mood worse.

Tari held up her arms when a servant slipped a shift over her head.I’m not leaving my children.

You don’t have to.I ducked when another servant dressed me in a silky shift that fell around my hips like melted butter.I’ve brought them to court with me before.

She gave me a long look.Malvolia didn’t mind?

Oh, she minded, but she sent court dresses for them. I motioned to the two shimmery children’s dresses hanging on the rack.So it looks like they’re invited.

An older woman with a thin, pinched face came into the wardrobe, giving instructions to staff as they wheeled in the tallest wigs I’d ever seen.

“Who are you?” I asked her.

She bowed low before me. “I’m Sandria, Your Highness. I’m here to dress you.”

“Where’s Daminica?” Annoyance rang in my words. I didn’t care. I preferred Daminica, for she knew what I liked and especially what I didn’t like.

The color drained from her face as she slowly stood, keeping her gaze focused on the floor. “The queen sent me, Your Highness.”

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