With that in mind, I snag Roarke’s bottle right out of his hand, pop the cork, sip, and savor the sweet flavors of impending Chaos.
Roarke looks down at me with wide eyes, but before he can say anything, Teegan’s voice cuts across the fire.
“Shall we sing a song for the road?” She clears her throat and looks around at her comrades for permission to change the subject. “Bow to the bold?”
There’s no time for anyone to object before she's parted those pretty lips and started to sing, “Down bellows the man with a sheep in his hand …”
My breath falters. Damn, she can sing.
No idea what the song is about – but her voice is like liquid pleasure washing down my spine.
Lara joins in with soft tones that are barely discernible amidst Teegan’s power. Amber starts patting out a rhythm on her knees, which Seth matches with a clapping beat. The domain fills with the tune, and every one of them gets involved – except for Killian.
Killian, who has Jada practically in his lap. Though he’s leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees as he idly picks up small sticks and snaps them into smaller pieces.
Darkness isn’t singing, and there’s not a hope I’m joining in either.
“And one from the sea, one from the past…” On the tune goes. “Watch the ship roll. Watch the cracked mast. Down bellows the man with the sheep in his hand. Up shouts the lout with the roast pig snout.”
Longest song ever.
I shimmy up to sit on the log between Seth and Roarke, letting myself hum along as the tune and the chorus repeats. I can’t sing to save my life – but the tune is catchy. Seth’s singing along, each word rough and lacking any ability to carry a tune. Makes me smile to hear his voice, though. Clapping and patting his knees in an increasingly fast backbeat. I lean into Roarke, so Seth has room.
I wrap an arm through Roarke’s and rest my head against his shoulder. My humming vibrates through my chest and probably into him, slowly forming into words when the chorus repeats. I hope he doesn’t mind that my singing voice is terrible. I don’t even know why I’m joining in. It’s not like I’m in my comfort zone, or like I even enjoy singing to begin with.
Roarke mustn’t either since he’s just tapping his foot along to the beat. He snakes his arm out of my grip to wrap around me and presses a kiss to my temple that takes me by surprise. Whatever system they’re using to manipulate or keep these Sabers in line is beyond me. And right now Roarke’s touch is too damn divine to resist. So I lean into him harder and feel myself sing just a little louder.
“Bow to the bold. Those stand and those hold. Bow to the brave. Those face the storm. Bow to the thief who takes what he must. Bow to the wise – a man said once – bow to the wise and what’s in his head. One day you’ll know, or one day you’ll be dead.”
My eyes drift closed as I fall into the sensation of something inside me smoothing flat, calming completely. Like everything in me is as smooth as the surface of a lake, and each note is a gentle drop and ripple across it. As close to my definition of Harmony as I’ve ever been.
Roarke begins to sing, and my heart stops as his tune ripples with mine. Both rolling perfectly together inside of me. It’s mesmerizing.
“Bow to the bold. Those stand and those hold.”
Roarke’s notes reach all of the way up the scales, sending chills and shivers through my body. Each word radiates deeper. Fulfilling a need – or maybe creating one.
“Bow to the brave. Those face the storm.”
I begin to fall beneath the surface of the sounds as everything in me becomes Roarke’s. Like I’m not even singing with my voice anymore, the sound being generated and projected is ours. My body is stuck somewhere in the real world while my soul is floating somewhere in the magical. It’s surreal, and entrancing, and I don’t want it to end.
“Bow to the thief who takes what he must.”
And it’s amazing and beautiful, and for once in my life I just let myself sing. Not caring who can hear me – or maybe even believing that I sound good. It sure feels good. Unfurling and lifting into the night.
“Bow to the wise – a man said once – bow to the wise and what’s in his head. One day you’ll know, or one day you’ll be dead.”
Something smacks me in the forehead. Hard. Radiating an instant headache deep into my skull and knocking the breath right out of me.
I groan and cup my hand to my face as tears spring to my eyes, and the singing cuts off sharply. So sharply it feels like someone just took a knife to our song.
Who the hell threw a rock at my head?
“Killian!” I shout – it had to be him.
“Come on,” Seth says, grabbing the hand that I don’t have pressed to my aching head.
He yanks me to my feet, pulling me away from Roarke. I almost trip over the log as he tugs me towards the cottage. My eyes are watering, so even if my hand wasn’t in the way, I still couldn’t see where we’re going.
“Bring wine,” I moan.
“I have the wine,” he chuckles.
I run through the cottage and take the stairs two at a time. Coughing again and again, forcing my throat to scratch and the echo of song on my vocals to fade. Because I don’t sing.
But – I just did.
Kitten drew that out of me. One silk thread, soft and pure and reaching like a sapling from my Seed.
I rub the heel of my palm hard against my chest, trying to smooth the sensation from deep within.
