Page 50 of When the Wicked Sing
“Who painted all of these?” she asked. None of the artwork had a visible signature. Though sirens didn’t paint underwater, all the records of paintings she’d seen stored in the Athenaeum had signatures on the bottom left or right corners. Even the sculptures around Salus had the artist’s signature on them somewhere.
“I don’t know that the artist ever wants to be known, unfortunately,” Spiro replied, causing Mariana’s expression to drop slightly.
“Are they still alive?” she asked softly.
Spiro nodded and stepped closer to the painting. “I imagine they don’t want to talk about what’s happened to them. Perhaps painting helped them begin to heal. I can’t say for certain, of course. Although …” They paused as their eyes locked on the lone warrior. “I feel this was their way of reminding all of us that our past cannot hold us hostage.” Spiro cast their eyes toward Mariana, searching her face. For what, she didn’t know. “We all deserve to keep moving forward.”
Mariana looked back at the painting. She could see what Spiro was doing, trying to show her that she, too, had to keep moving forward. But what about the darkness that wouldfollow her? Even the lone warrior in the field of dead bodies had to be haunted by what they’d experienced.
“What happened here? What story was the painter trying to tell?”
Spiro sighed. “A somber and unfortunate one.” Pausing, the leader sat down on the bench beside her. “Do you know the story of the Mocanus tribe, Mariana?”
She shook her head.
“Mocanus means ‘gray mountain people.’ A name given to us by General Cornelia. She didn’t know of our true origin—none of us do—but that didn’t stop her from learning all there was to know about our culture. She was … intrigued. And she found her place among the Mocanus. Her home. She lived here, in Kythera, until the day war showed up at our front door and took her away.”
“Did you know Cornelia?”
“Yes, she was my mother,” Spiro replied casually, and Mariana felt her throat close up.
“What?” she squeaked.
Spiro laughed at her shocked expression. “Yes, my mother was Cornelia. And I can tell you, she was no ordinary fae. From the short time I got to know her, she was strict, paranoid, and constantly talking about war. I’d never known someone so courageous yet so terrified of the world. I wish I could recall what she looked like. I only remember that she always had flowers and leaves in her white hair.” Spiro curled a white loc between their long fingers before dropping it back into the mix of dark hair.
Mariana glanced at the painting of the Generals again, noticing how Cornelia’s skin was almost as pale as Astra’s, but she had a moonbeam glow about her. Whoever Spiro’s father was must’ve been Mocanus for them to inherit the gray skin tone.
“Did you ever see her again?” Mariana asked with hesitation as she studied Spiro’s distant expression.
They blinked a few times before shaking their head. “No, sadly, I never knew what became of her until news spread of her death. But the Mocanus were devastated by her disappearance. So was I. And when the time came to defend our land, we heeded the call. Minerva sent her legion of warriors to attack us in the hopes of conquering our land. During that battle, we realized that the Mocanus resisted Minerva’s magic. We defeated them all.” Spiro paused and looked down at their hands. “Minerva was killed shortly after by the son of Magnus, King Thaddeus, who was worshiped for killing his father’s murderer and uniting Aurelia.”
Mariana’s brows tightened as she tried to remember her history lessons. King Thaddeus was the father of King Stavros.
“King Thaddeus was charming,” Spiro continued. “He promised the Mocanus that, for their assistance in defeating an enemy legion, he would grant us protected lands that would prosper and remain peaceful. However, as the dynasties of the three other Generals began to rise and Aurelia began to split apart, King Thaddeus recruited the Mocanus people to be his ‘killers of the night.’” Spiro shook their head sadly. “He used us as weapons to fight enemy units because they couldn’t see us coming. Most of our people were dead by the end of theInfernal Wars. King Thaddeus was killed, and as King Stavros was crowned, we hid away in the mountains once more.”
Mariana considered Spiro’s words. “Then why is Dax working for King Stavros?” she asked carefully, realizing after she said it that Spiro was unlikely to share anything about that with her.
Spiro studied the painting for a long moment, and Mariana regretted asking. “I’m sorry. I know that is none of my concern. I hope I didn’t offend you.”
The village leader turned to her, and with a sincere smile, they said, “You didn’t offend me. You are always welcome to ask your questions. However, I can’t answer this one as it is not my information to tell.”
Mariana sighed and gave a brief nod before thinking of something else she had been dying to ask. “I have a personal question for you, then, if you’re willing to answer it?” She couldn’t keep the hesitance from her voice as she spoke.
“I’d love to hear it. I’ll answer the best I can,” Spiro replied. The anxiety that had taken root in Mariana’s chest began to loosen as she stared at the leader’s welcoming expression.
She took a deep breath. “Are you … Dax and Kenna’s mother or father?” The question slipped out easily enough, but Mariana couldn’t help feeling like the world was about to collapse on top of her. It scared her to think how easily she could offend the wise leader.
Spiro chuckled. Mariana felt her cheeks warm and released a nervous smile.
“That is a valid question, not to worry,” they said, patting her hand affectionately. “I gave birth to my children. But I am neither a mother nor a father.”
Mariana considered this. “You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met before.”
“I take that as a compliment,” Spiro replied with a generous smile, then glanced at their hands, covered in tattoos and rings. “Mariana, I’ve lived many lives within this same body. And after quite some time, I realized I could no longer identify as just female. Nor did I feel I was a male. I simply became … Spiro. I freed myself from a prison I didn’t truly understand, one I had chosen to live in for far too long. Now, everyone here understands that my seemingly endless life cannot be boiled down to a category I fell into the moment I was born.”
The insightful words had Mariana contemplating the cultural norms of her people. The foreign concept that someone could identify as justthemselveswithout considering the dividing line between male and female was … enlightening.
“Your words have given me so much to think about. Sirens are all born female, and that’s an important part of our culture. I don’t know that any of us would understand what it means to erase the barrier between identifying as male or female. Though I’m certain a few of my sisters would appreciate the chance to.” Mariana smiled at the wise fae. “Your courage and strength are honorable.”
