Page 50 of A Fractured Song

“He’s really neither of those things.” Marieke emerged from her porridge, her voice pained. “He’s…a friend.”

The bland word stung a little, but Zev knew he was unreasonable to dislike it. He was the one keeping her at arm’s length, after all.

“If you say so.” Svetlana was no fool, but she clearly wasn’t interested in arguing with them about the depth of their relationship. “Now are you going to tell me what sent you down here, or do I have to wring it out of you?” She tapped her knuckles suggestively against the wooden table.

Zev lowered his brow, his gaze threatening her to try it, but she just chuckled.

“Relax, bodyguard, it’s an expression.”

Marieke wisely ignored the whole exchange, taking her time to finish her mouthful of porridge before answering. “You’re right that it wasn’t the elves who sent me down here. It was Gorgon.”

“He told you to come back here?” Svetlana demanded skeptically.

Marieke gave an unladylike snort that was strangely endearing. “Of course not. There wouldn’t have been much point giving me travel directions while attempting to stab me to death. No, I meant that he was the one who raised questions. Lots of questions.”

Svetlana sighed. “Questions like what happens when the rashness of youth misapplies a desire to see justice done?”

“I was going to say when the rashness of youth is overfed with stories of injustice but given no outlet for useful action to address it,” Zev said with deceptive politeness.

Svetlana’s jaw worked for a moment as she stared back at him. Eventually she shifted her gaze to Marieke, apparently deciding not to respond.

“What did Gorgon say?”

“It wasn’t just what he said, it was what he did.” Mariekepushed away her empty bowl, the action reminding Zev to eat his own cooling porridge. “His attacks on singers made no sense.”

Svetlana raised an eyebrow. “Maybe not to you. I’m not saying I agree with his method, but I understand his motive.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Marieke clarified. “What I mean is that he used magic in his attacks. But I could have sworn he wasn’t a singer.”

Svetlana folded her hands on the tabletop, saying nothing. Marieke raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve become very quiet.”

“I have nothing in particular to say.”

“How convenient,” Zev said dryly. “Well, you’re not denying that Gorgon used magic, so that’s confirmation enough for me.”

“I don’t need confirmation,” said Marieke, sounding aggrieved. “I sensed the magic myself. Even if it didn’t feel quite like any magic I’ve felt before.”

“I imagine not,” Svetlana said coolly. “Being a singer doesn’t make you an expert on all sorts of magic, in spite of what your academy would have you think.”

Marieke leaned forward, eagerness on her face. “Are you talking about heartsong? So you do know what it is?”

Zev felt himself tensing and tried to hide all signs of it. It hadn’t taken Marieke long to get right to where he didn’t want her to go. Or at least, where his family didn’t want her to go.

Zev caught himself up on the thought. He didn’t want his family’s secrets revealed, of course he didn’t. It was far too dangerous for Marieke to find out about heartsong. The growing desire within him to be open with her, to bare every part of his heart, was nothing but foolishness. Dangerous foolishness.

Fortunately for his secrets, neither woman was paying close attention to him. Svetlana was frowning at Marieke, looking surprised by the turn the conversation had taken.

“Heartsong?” she repeated. “What’s that?”

Marieke deflated, disappointed. “Don’t you know?” She seemed to be trying to read Svetlana’s face, probably wondering if the other woman was faking ignorance. “Gorgon did.”

Svetlana considered her. “Gorgon spoke about this heartsong?”

“He mentioned it,” Marieke said. “He referred to it as some kind of ancient magic, if I recall correctly.”

Svetlana shook her head. “It sounds like he made it up to me.”

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