Page 8 of Songs of Retribution

I wanted to argue that he hadn't—that his loyalty laid with the Seelie and Lennox and our court's future. But I knew it wouldn't do any good, so I remained silent, pressing the cuffs into my thighs until it almost hurt.

"Stand with me." The King spoke the words slowly, enunciating them. "Join me in crafting a better future for the Seelie. The Prasanna, they…"—he flashed his teeth—"they've only given you a biased version of the story. I've lived in fear of the elementals and their prophecy." He met my gaze at that, and I pressed my lips together. He’d created the reality that terrified him. And he should fear us. We'd rip his throne out from under him if we could achieve it. "However, I've thought more about it. Perhaps the prophesied break in our court is a siren taking the throne." He met my eyes. "Vow to stand at my side. You were born for this, Lira."

"I vow to do what is right."

He sighed and stood, towering over me. Lennox was tall, but even he didn't match our father's height. Orman was the only being I'd met who was taller than him. I steeled my muscles against cowering.

The King stepped slowly towards me, his boots thunking on the rug. He slipped his hands behind his back and leaned forward to meet my eyes. "What I told you when we caught you conspiring against the crown hasn't changed, daughter." He hissed the words, a whisper like a teapot left to steam too long. "Already Palaria works with other sirens on a way to twist their magic and wipe your memories."

My breath caught, but I forced myself to blink slowly and finish my inhale. Mother had been with him on his schemes from the beginning. She'd join him in abusing me at this level if it got her what she wanted. The bitch. "I suppose that's what you'll have to do."

The King frowned. "There's one issue with my plan."

"What's that?"

He shrugged and straightened so that he looked down at me. "My heir must consent to taking the mark for my magic. It can't pass under compulsion."

The last thing I wanted was to be marked for yet another group's magic, and especially one as large as an entire fairy court. The siren Rainoe told me how she thought it was a foolish business to wrap magic up like that. If I accepted the powers, there was no getting out of it. I'd still hoped to unbind the sirens’ magic, but if I took the Seelie powers, that would be hopeless. There were too many Seelie fae to get all their consent at once to undo it. But, if the King marked me for the magic and I got away, when the King died, I'd hold the Seelie magic. That could end the war.

I trembled and hesitated for another moment. Then I jerked my arms forward so fast the King stepped back. "Mark me then. I consent."

His brow furrowed, and I could see the unease in his eyes as he processed what I'd said. "You believe you'll get away. It will not happen."

I kept my arms aloft between us and refused to continue the conversation. He was right that consent was a true issue for him and I had the upper-hand. "I'll accept now. I may not later. Take it or leave it."

His mouth twisted into a scowl, and he didn't reply. Footsteps echoed in the hall, a tree limb scraped the windowpane, and the two of us, father and daughter, irreconcilably opposed, breathed over the din together.

Finally he stepped forward and slid my sleeve up. "Fine." His fingers scraped over my flesh, and he unleashed his magic. The room warped as glamour turned the chamber into a storm at sea, waves rushing up around us, lightning slashing the sky.

My breathing picked up, my chest rising and falling with it, but as the magic’s tingle whispered over my arm causing goosebumps to rise, I parted my lips and sang, "I accept."

The magic burned into my arm, like a brand searing into my skin with a flash of pain as acute and present as the lightning slashing through the dark heavens.

The glamour disappeared in a rush. The King pulled away and walked towards the door. I considered saying something, but the mark on my arm pulsed, sending waves of burning heat up my skin.

I'd expected this moment to feel powerful and victorious. Instead, a hollowness filled my chest, imbued with the fear that I'd given away everything for nothing. If my parents wiped my memories and turned me into a puppet, I'd harm the people I loved more than help them. Selfishly, I didn't want to lose everything I'd gained. I longed to return to Sai and Lennox and our friends.

The King's footsteps echoed through the empty room. "You have a few days' time, yet, Lira," he whispered. "Stand with me and we will make the Seelie the crowning jewel of fae history."

He didn't wait for a reply. He left the room with a slam of the door that rattled the windows leaving me alone with the weight of my decision, It pressed on my shoulders until I hunched over.

The mark—a curling twist of lines—throbbed with an ominous intensity. I slid my sleeve over it. It didn't matter. I'd already made my choices. Now I had to do everything I could to get the hell out of the Seelie court and take the promise of their magic with me.

CHAPTERFOUR

SHAAN

Our ship steeredtowards the rocks Sai planned for Orman to hit. The group huddled around the railing, staring out at the sea.

Neia hovered in front of Lennox, her body wrapped in tendrils of air he cushioned her with so that she floated. His eyes shimmered so pale they appeared almost clear, and he kept them trained on Neia like if he shifted his attention or even breathed too heavily, he'd drop her.

He clasped my hand, though, and his thumb slid along my knuckles, back and forth, in a steady rhythm.My magic, he'd said,is strongest when I touch you. Do you mind?

As if he had to ask to touch me. As though I wouldn't gladly thread my fingers through his for the sheer joy of it. I'd once found it galling that fate had set me up for balancing his magic. Now, at his touch, my new magic sprang to the surface, curling along my veins and stretching down my limbs.

No one had mentioned my powers or how they could get us out of this situation. It would be so simple, too. I could feel the burning warmth of each soul on the other ship—one hundred and three of them—and how easily I could end each of their lives. It would take hardly any magic, and it would be gentle, like licking my fingers and touching the wick of a flame.

Pft.

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