Page 107 of When the Wicked Sing
Mariana bit back a laugh as she gave Ophelia’s arms a reassuring squeeze. “Ophelia, I’d like to be your friend too.”
Ophelia let out a small, relieved laugh.“Good.”Her eyes roamed Mariana’s face and neck, probably taking in the fact that her skin was now pale blue.“I’m happy to see your gills are back! I’m so glad you found her.”
Astra. Mariana swallowed, her smile strained. She opened her mouth to respond when movement across the courtyard caught her eye. High up on the second story, Dax was walking across the short bridge between buildings. His face turned, and he stilled. Their eyes met for a second. All Mariana wanted to do was run to him, leap into his arms, and hold him close.
The shock on his face shifted into haunted sorrow. His head dipped, looking away from her, as though he couldn’t meet her gaze any longer. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to keep going. He never looked back.
Mariana felt tears well up in her eyes as she watched him cross through a doorway. Whether it was from stress, fatigue, or heartbreak, she couldn’t tell. And she didn’t want to. She had no idea where she and Dax stood, but clearly, he didn’t want to see her.
Ophelia had apparently seen what happened and took Mariana’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“He’s been distant since we returned and discovered the king had passed.”
“Dax and the king helped Astra escape,” Mariana admitted softly.
The Seer dipped her eyes. “I know. He chose to help her despite the repercussions that would come if Halia found out.”
Mariana didn’t miss the guilt in those words. “And did she?”
Ophelia swallowed, lifting her gaze to Mariana’s. An unspoken truth passed between them as the Seer gave her a small, sad smile.
“Come on, let’s get you to your rooms.”
Ophelia graciously pulled her along, away from the storm and into the hurricane.
Chapter 58
Thedaycameandwent like the tide. The bright, unforgiving sun was a glaring beacon over Aurelia, as though it was screaming that something terrible had happened there. And that evening, the whole city went quiet.
King Stavros was dead. And there was no explanation as to how.
Watching from high above in her bedchamber, sitting on the window ledge, Mariana witnessed thousands of fae gathering to honor their dead king. From the palace to the city, Halia led the parade behind the king’s grand golden coffin, using her power to hold and guide it gently down the bridge with the wind. The gold paint glinted against the setting sun as the hands of young, old, wealthy, and poor brushed along the coffin, sweeping the slightest bit of gold dust onto their fingers.
When Mariana asked Ophelia to explain their ritual, she said the gold dust would cling to the skin for weeks. It was a sign of respect, symbolizing how many lives the king had touched with his compassion and strength as a ruler. If the king were respected by his subjects, his coffin would be brushed free of gold beforebeing buried in their royal cemetery on the other side of the city. And from what Mariana could tell based on the silent hands touching the coffin as it moved along, the king would not be disgraced from where he awaited his transition from the Veil to the Eternal Sands.
Mariana had heard of the Veil before, the ethereal land where souls wandered before they were buried in the Eternal Sands.
Sirens feared it. They were daughters of the sea. Their souls weren’t meant to be buried underground. This was why their cremation ceremonies were held so quickly after death, in order to ensure Amphitrite could lead their dead sister’s soul to peace within the sea.
A twinge of guilt coursed through Mariana. She would have no gold on her fingers. She didn’t know Stavros as her king or as a father. She had no respect to give.
Her chest throbbed as she imagined the life he had envisioned with her mother, the life he’d hoped for until the moment he took his last breath. The memory of them together, weaving through the abandoned rooms full of hope, was all she would have of him. As they’d stared at her mother’s closed door, Mariana’s hand in the crook of his elbow and her head against his arm, she knew he had been imagining Cybele opening that door with a bright smile on her face. Instead, they would never see each other again. They were lovers destined to become enemies. And that made her want to cry.
Gripping her arms, she stared down at the sea of bodies weaving together, trying to get close to the coffin, and wondered if Dax was among them.
She missed him. Seeing him when she arrived had pushed all the hidden emotions she felt back up to the surface. She had neither the time nor the mindset to process her emotions. But she was certain that if given the choice, he would be down there paying his respects. Somewhere, awaiting his moment to feel the gold cling to his skin. She imagined for a moment being down there beside him, their hands touching as they said farewell to a father Mariana had never really known and a king Dax had known all too well. Choosing not to partake in the fae ritual was customary if one had no relationship with the deceased, as she had been told by Halia in a terribly stoic letter while planning their father’s funeral. But the simple excuse for Mariana not to get involved felt more like a request than a suggestion.
Mariana still had no idea how Halia knew they were sisters, unless Stavros had decided to tell her sometime before they all traveled to Sirenia, though that made little sense. Perhaps he’d thought it would bring them closer together? She shook her head at the absurd thought. Did he know he was going to die, and that’s why he’d told her?
When she asked Ophelia how the king died, she said no one knew. His heart simply gave out. He had silently died in his study with thousands of books as witnesses. A few hours later, a servant went in to check on him, only to find the lifeless king staring out the window, gazing at the magnificent city he had cherished. Or had failed, in Halia’s eyes.
It was strange how similar it was to the way Helios had died. Everyone in the palace whispered about it. Theories that Cybele might have been seeking revenge against the king and hired a mercenary, or even the Scarlet Serpent, to kill him quietlyswirled around the palace. But Mariana knew it hadn’t been her mother. And it certainly hadn’t been Aurora. No, a different person came to mind as she contemplated how Stavros had died.
Astra and Stavros both believed that the Siren Witch killed Helios and let Cybele take the blame. Why would she have done any of that? And would she have tried to kill the king?
Aurora had warned Mariana repeatedly about Luna’s behavior. Would she have found a way to kill the person she thought took her mother? It seemed unlikely. Luna was so … timid, certainly not the killing type. So, who was behind all this? She certainly didn’t believe that Stavros dying the same way that his own son had was all coincidence.
And yet, something kept snagging Mariana’s thoughts.
