Page 8 of When the Wicked Sing
She had been so young, so angry, standing in this very cabin and shouting at Celeste for telling her she couldn’t explore Egan Village.“You’re not my mother!”she had spat, her voice sharp and full of venom she hadn’t meant.
Celeste hadn’t shouted back. She hadn’t scolded her. She just stood there, silent tears slipping down her withered cheeks as she whispered,“I know you’re not mine, but you’re the closest I will ever get to having one. And I want to protect you. Please, just let me protect you.”
Mariana’s heart squeezed as the memory faded. Now, standing here years later, she understood what Celeste had meant. She hadn’t known it back then, but that was when she realized Celeste wasn’t just her mentor or friend. She was family.
Celeste glanced up and caught her staring, tilting her head in amusement. “Come on, now, time’s wasting!” she said, holding up a stuffed tea bag and wiggling it like a prize. “The people need their potions!”
Mariana forced a laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, okay.” She turned back to the mint leaves, but the knot of unease in her chest remained.
The question still lingered in her mind, refusing to let go:
What is Celeste searching for?
Chapter 4
“SorryI’mlate,”Marianasaid as she sat at the round stone table where Queen Cybele, Aurora, and the Siren Witch waited.
“It would be wise to arrive on time, Mariana,” Cybele replied, her gaze as sharp as a blade. The queen’s lifted eyebrow communicated more than her words—a silent warning.
Mariana lowered her eyes, her mother’s scrutiny heavy on her shoulders. “Apologies, Your Majesty.”
“Let us begin,” Cybele declared, her voice cold and commanding.
Mariana’s eyes caught on the Siren Witch’s razor-sharp black claws tapping against the table in a rhythmic click. Her mind conjured an image of those claws digging into mortal flesh, scraping away blood and bone. The rumors of what the Siren Witch did to those sacrificed mortals lingered, unspoken but ever-present.
Her stomach twisted.
“Zafiria,” Cybele addressed the Siren Witch beside her. The name seemed to sting the witch, her lips tightening in displeasure. After the Banishment, she had cast off that name,considering it a remnant of a weaker self. “What do you have on the cause of death for Telesia, Hella, and Iris?” Cybele’s voice softened, just barely, as she spoke.
The Siren Witch leaned back in her chair, her black cape draping around her like a shadow. A golden scorpion fish brooch pinned the cape at her breast, its ruby eyes gleaming, almost as if it were watching Mariana. The witch’s ink-stained lips pressed into a thin line as her obsidian eyes dropped to her lap.
“It was sun poisoning, Majesty.”
The words hit Mariana like a punch to the gut. Air left her lungs, and her thoughts scattered. Across the table, Cybele’s face drained of color, her pale green skin turning an alarming shade of white.
“No … there’s no way,” Cybele murmured, her spine snapping straight. “I enchanted their armor to protect them from the sun, and they returned wearing it.”
Mariana’s pulse quickened. The enchantments—powerful, ancient magic—were supposed to shield sirens from the sun’s deadly rays. Cybele’s magic had always been strong enough, and yet …
“Sun poisoning without visible burns suggests indirect exposure over several days,” Aurora interjected, her brow furrowed. “They must have been without their armor at some point, even if the enchantment held.”
“Actually,” the Siren Witch began, her gaze flickering to Cybele, “the armor was only enchanted for three full moon cycles—the duration this journey should have taken. Once those lunation periods passed, the armor would have been useless.”
Mariana frowned, despite the urge to grin at the witch’s use of the old terminology for time, her thoughts swirling. She had been told Cybele’s enchantments lasted for decades, not mere months.
What had changed?
A tense, silent exchange passed between the queen and her advisor. Mariana’s unease deepened.
“I don’t understand why they would forget something so crucial,” Aurora continued, confusion lacing her voice. “Why risk sun exposure if they knew their protection was failing?”
Cybele opened her mouth to respond, but Mariana’s voice cut through the air before she could speak.
“What did Astra trade with the fae king?” Mariana’s eyes locked onto her mother’s stern expression.
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Isn’t it?” Mariana leaned forward, her arms crossing over her chest. “Why did her Guardians rush back here only to die before delivering any message? Where is Astra? Luna is going mad waiting to hear how you plan to get her mother—your daughter— back.” She rested her elbows on the table, staring her mother down. “Let me go find her.”
