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    Siren's Fury
    Siren's Fury
    Siren's Fury
    Ebook412 pages6 hours

    Siren's Fury

    By Mary Weber

    4/5

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    "I thrust my hand toward the sky as my voice begs the Elemental inside me to waken and rise. But it's no use. The curse I've spent my entire life abhorring--the thing I trained so hard to control--no longer exists."

    Nym risked her life to save Faelen, her homeland, from a losing war, only to discover that the shapeshifter Draewulf has stolen everything she holds dear. But when the repulsive monster robs Nym of her storm-summoning abilities as well, the beautiful Elemental realizes her war is only just beginning.

    Now powerless to control the elements that once emboldened her, Nym stows away on an airship traveling to the metallic kingdom of Bron. She must stop Draewulf. But the horrors he's brought to life and the secrets of Bron are more than Nym bargained for. Then the disturbing Lord Myles tempts her with new powers that could destroy the monster, and Nym must decide whether she can compromise in the name of good even if it costs her very soul.

    As she navigates the stark industrial cityscape of Bron, Nym is faced with an impossible choice: change the future with one slice of a blade . . . or sacrifice the entire kingdom for the one thing her heart just can't let go.

    "A riveting tale from start to finish."--Marissa Meyer, New York Times bestselling author of The Lunar Chronicles of Storm Siren

    • The second in the low-spice, YA romantasy trilogy
    • Series best read in order:
      • Book 1: Storm Siren
      • Book 2: Siren's Fury
      • Book 3: Siren's Song
    • Full-length book
    • Includes discussion questions for book clubs
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThomas Nelson
    Release dateJun 2, 2015
    ISBN9781401690397
    Author

    Mary Weber

    Mary Weber is the award-winning HarperCollins author of the bestselling young adult Storm Siren Trilogy, and The Sofi Snow duology. An avid school and conference speaker, Mary’s passion is helping others find their voice amid a world that often feels too loud. When she’s not plotting adventures involving tough girls who frequently take over the world, Mary sings 80s hairband songs to her three muggle children and ogles her husband who looks strikingly like Wolverine. They live in California which is perfect for stalking LA bands and the ocean. She gets nerdy at maryweber.com; Facebook: marychristineweber; Instagram: maryweberauthor; Twitter: @mchristineweber; and Goodreads.  

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    Reviews for Siren's Fury

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    • 3/5
      So, this book was a bit of a quandary. If you'll recall from my review of the first book in this series, I loved the supporting characters but wasn't a huge fan of Nym's unwillingness to fight. I also desperately wished for more world-building and less romance. Picking up Siren's Fury, I mouthed a silent wish that those things would be altered and started reading. Bright side, they were! Down side, not quite the way I'd hoped.

      Let's start with the positive points. First off, I was finally given a Nym who had some fire! Granted, it took a decent portion of the story for her to get to that point, but I cheered her on as she finally made actual decisions instead of waffling back and forth. I liked her character much more this time around and, although I missed some of the characters from the first book, it made this read much quicker and more enjoyable. Oh sure, Nym's decisions weren't always fabulous. Still, I was happy to see a girl who was willing to fight back. There still wasn't quite the amount of world-building I was hoping for, but Bron did come sharper into focus. This time around I finally felt like I was more firmly settled into the story. While Nym, Rasha and Lord Myles were hatching their schemes, I was right on board.

      Sadly, the two things I asked for were there in place of the two things I loved the first time. As I mentioned, my favorite characters weren't in this particular book. I missed Colin's humor, and his ability to break up the monotony. Also Nym spends a lot of time in her head, trying to make heads or tails of the things she has facing her. That meant that all the new characters, including Rasha, didn't get much face time. They felt a little flat. As for the romance? Well, it was definitely much less of an issue in this story. Except, the emotional ties were still very much there. Nym made a lot of bad decisions because of her inability to separate emotion from action.

      So, once again, I have to give this book three stars. I definitely enjoyed it much more than the first, and I'm glad to see that Nym is developing as a character! Alas, I don't think I'll be following her to the final book in this trilogy. It's not a bad series, by any means. It's more that I'm looking for something to blow me away.
    • 5/5
      WHOA!!! WOW!!! First, lets just comment on how GORGEOUS these covers are. I'm nearly mesmerized by it, all of them, but then you read the stories, and you're blown away by the intensity that the covers are just the tip of it. And with Siren's Song, so appropriate with the rings and the green. Just perfect.I read the full Storm Siren trilogy by Mary Weber all at once in a span of 3 days. Siren's Fury continued straight off of Storm Siren, with a little prelude of the last moments in Storm Siren, and we are reminded of the choice Nym made and the cost of it. As we continue on in Siren's Fury, we are confronted with the thoughts of hate and trust. Will hate drive Nym to become a person she, herself have loathe and despised, or will she trust others that may have their own hidden agenda? And in turn, will compassion and love drive out demons that possessed the world and those she loves? Worlds come together in this second book of the trilogy. From Cashlin to Bron to Tulla, we ride in style (airship designed by Eogan), and be confronted with danger, action and camaraderie, a little different than what we first saw in Storm Siren, but nonetheless, characters we will begin to love. And with this book, as a reader, I can finally and fully see how innovative Mary Weber is! She created a new world that have no connection to our world and gave us thoughts of travel through mountains and forests. With each place, a distinction, from Luminescents of Cashlin to Terrenes of Tulla, a world of fantasy have come alive in Siren's Fury. And with that, we're thrown into the final installment of this epic trilogy.The full review first appeared on Just Commonly Blog.NOTE: I received a complimentary ARC of this trilogy through The Fantastic Flying Book Club Book Tours in exchange for an honest review. All opinions expressed are my own. For my review policy, please see my Disclosure page.
    • 4/5
      Siren's Fury is a great sequel. I had a bit of trouble remembering details from book one and reconnecting, but the plot was unexpected, there is a lot of cool and spooky magic and plenty of action!
    • 4/5
      3.75 StarsIf you enjoyed Storm Siren, you will want to read this sequel. The YA novel is good, although the story moves slower than the first book in the series and lacks a loveable, humorous character (Colin). It's the middle book, so think less action and more setup for the next one. The ending definitely sped up quickly and convinced me to continue with the series. The cover art is gorgeous!Net Galley Feedback
    • 5/5
      Review courtesy of Dark Faerie TalesQuick & Dirty: Epic high fantasy set in a captivating world with interesting characters, action packed adventure, and suspenseful plot! I have really enjoyed this series so far and can’t wait to read the final book!Opening Sentence: Five minutes earlier…The Review:To start things off, I have to warn you that this review will contain spoilers for book one. It is pretty much impossible to review this book without giving away some spoilers as to what happened at the end of the last book. So if you haven’t read Storm Siren, I would recommend skipping this review, and I would also recommend you go and read Storm Siren now because this is an amazing series!Nym was able to stop the war between Bron and Faelen, but the price she paid was way higher then she was expecting! Her beloved Eogan has been stolen from her by the evil Draewulf, and now her precious elemental powers are gone as well! She always thought of her powers as a curse, but now that she has finally mastered how to use them she feels worthless without them.As a ship of delegates are getting ready to take off for negotiations with Bron, Nym decides she should go along. She knows that Draewulf is planning something terrible and even though she no longer has her powers she can’t just stand idly by, and watch him destroy everything she has worked to protect. She also learns that there are new abilities she can obtain that may help her to save the man she loves, but these new abilities are much darker and harder to control then her elemental powers. With war coming and everyone Nym holds dear in jeopardy, she must find a way to defeat Draewulf once and for all!Nym is just one of those characters you can’t help but love. She is a strong heroine that has been through a lot and she has had to learn to take care of herself. Throughout this book she goes through many difficult changes in her life, but instead of running away like most people would she fights back. Her determination to save the people she loves knows no bounds and even though she makes many mistakes along the way she always tries to do the right thing! You also get to see a much darker side to her personality, and the struggles she endures throughout the book made me respect her even more then I already did. One of my favorite things about Nym is her moody attitude, she can be pretty feisty at times, but she can also be a total sweetheart too. She is such a well rounded character and I can’t wait to see where her story goes next!The cast of secondary characters is pretty big, so I am just going to talk a little bit about a few of my favorites! To avoid any major spoilers I’m not going to talk about Eon and Draewulf, but I will say they were both written brilliantly! The first person I want to mention is Lord Myles. In the first book he is a pretty minor character and for the most part I didn’t really care about him all that much. But he plays a much bigger part in this book, and I think he was probably one of my favorite characters. He is a sly person and I honestly can’t tell you if he is a villain or a hero. Everything he does is calculated and he isn’t a very honest person, but he has rare moments where his good qualities shine through. The best thing about his character was that he kept me guessing and I loved that.The only other character I am going to mention is Rasha. She is a princess from the kingdom of Cashlin, and she has been sent as a delegate for her people during this time of war. Her and Nym have developed a good friendship throughout the story and I loved watching them interact together. Rasha is one of the only people that will stand up to Nym and tell her how stupid she is acting at times. She is the type of friend that will hold you accountable for your actions, but she will bend over backwards to help you. There is still much to Rasha that remains a mystery and I am excited to see how things play out for her in the next book.Siren’s fury is an epic high fantasy brimming with adventure, romance, and intrigue! After the terrible cliffhanger I was left with in Storm Siren, I have been desperate to read this book and it did not disappoint! I will admit that the beginning of the book started out a little slower then I would have personally liked, but it soon picked up and I found that I couldn’t put it down. I love how the story developed and grew from the first book! The world that Weber has created is so captivating and intriguing! There was very little romance in the book, but what was present was perfection! I truly enjoyed the entire cast of characters and each one of them left their own little stamp on my heart! The plot really thickened and while the ending wasn’t nearly as heart wrenching as the first book, it still left me dying to see what’s going to happen next. High fantasy has always been one my favorite genres and this series has quickly claimed a spot in my favorites! I would recommend everyone give this series a try, especially if you are a fan of high fantasy!Notable Scene:“What the?” The siren in my veins begins fluttering and beating, like a bird flailing through. I try to jerk away, and for a second, I swear a cry breaks out from my rib cage before the hot surge courses in and cools to harden like doused metal underneath my skin, searing my blood to my bones. The siren’s scream falls silent and there is nothing but heaviness.My powers.My ability…I twitch my wrist at the sky to resummon the storm, but the clouds keep dissipating. What in hulls? I wrench harder, twisting my fingers to claim the night air, the wind, the rain.Except it’s not there.It’s gone.As if my Elemental blood has been drained and I am left a normal non-Uathuil, Faelen person.“What did you do?”FTC Advisory: Thomas Nelson/HarperCollins provided me with a copy of Siren’s Fury. No goody bags, sponsorships, “material connections,” or bribes were exchanged for my review.
    • 3/5
      I would like to thank Thomas Nelson & NetGalley for granting me a copy of this e-ARC to read in exchange for an honest review. Though I received this e-book for free that in no way impacts my review.Goodreads Teaser:""I thrust my hand toward the sky as my voice begs the Elemental inside me to waken and rise. But it's no use. The curse I've spent my entire life abhorring—the thing I trained so hard to control—no longer exists."Nym has saved Faelen only to discover that Draewulf stole everything she valued. Now he’s destroyed her Elemental storm-summoning ability as well.When Nym sneaks off with a host of delegates to Bron, Lord Myles offers her the chance for a new kind of power and the whispered hope that it may do more than simply defeat the monster she loathes. But the secrets the Bron people have kept concealed, along with the horrors Draewulf has developed, may require more than simply harnessing a darker ability.They may require who she is.Set against the stark metallic backdrop of the Bron kingdom, Nym is faced with the chance to change the future.Or was that Draewulf’s plan for her all along?"A wild, electric ride, this sequel supplies non-stop drama, emotional roller coasters, and a touch of self-awareness and personal growth. Nym, heartbroken over the loss of her love Eogan and determined to rescue him before Draewolf can completely consume him, races headlong into one long series of potentially life ending experiences. But she doesn't head out alone. With her are Lord Protector Myles and Princess Rasha, both people with their own agendas and powers, but so different from each other that their continued friction causes its own problems.While this book certainly doesn't lack in the adventure, intrigue, or drama arenas, it felt a bit abbreviated. There was too much material that was glossed over, leaving me to think that there was more going on than was being told. Now I know that is in part because the third book was being set up while this section of the tale was being shared, but the two parts weren't as seamless as I'd have liked. Had they been I'd never have noticed. But aside from that this sequel did a solid job of expanding the characters in play, and enhancing their stories and our emotional attachment, or abhorrence, to them. It was interesting how Rasha stepped into Eogan's role of being Nym's balancing point, while Myles grew from someone she detested to someone she actually developed feelings for. Feelings beyond disgust that is. As to how those relationships were developed, I'd say that was well done, and for the most part felt as if they were happening as naturally as they could, given the short amount of time that this part of the story takes place in.Nym's development was interesting to see unfold. She was at times much older than her years, but then something would happen to remind us of how young she still is. And it is her youth that causes many of the problems she and her companions face. For all she's experienced in her short life she's still lacking the necessary years of practical experience that she needs to help guide her decisions. And yet, that youth may be what ends up saving everyone - or dooming them all, including anymore herself. I guess we'll have to wait for book three to learn where things are going to go for Nym and her friends. Those that survive this sequel that is!

    Book preview

    Siren's Fury - Mary Weber

    CHAPTER 1

    FIVE MINUTES EARLIER . . .

    THERE IS A MOMENT, JUST BEFORE EVERY STORM, when the entire world pauses. As if the atmosphere, in unison with the ocean tides, the wind, the sky’s watery teardrops, is forced to hold its breath. A bracing against the violence it knows will come—the tempest that perhaps this time, this moment, might actually shred the world’s soul.

    I am in that moment now.

    I am that moment.

    My Elemental blood is paused in my veins—I can feel it the same way I feel Eogan’s hand on my skin as the golden candle orbs float past my window, ascending from the Castle’s courtyard celebration below. On their way to the stars, their round glow shines through the glass pane to reflect off the floor, the glossy walls, the bedpost in my room. They illuminate Eogan’s beautiful black skin and the jagged bangs covering half his face as his green eyes search mine.

    Are you all right? His voice is ragged, fresh from the peace-treaty speech he just gave with King Sedric.

    I nod and glance over the healing bruises and cuts I can see, and the internal ones I can’t because they’re hidden behind that unfair tweak of a smile. You? I want to ask.

    His grin widens as he traces a finger down my cheek to my jawline and leans his tall self in until he is inches away and I am breathing in his familiar scent of honey and pine mixed with something oddly musky. His gaze drops to my mouth.

    I swallow.

    Never better, his eyes answer. He bends closer so that, for a second, his lips nearly touch mine.

    I swear it almost dissolves every piece of me in the in-between as I wait for his kiss. Just as I’ve waited for this moment, this time, finally alone with him, for the past week since the battle at the Keep.

    But the kiss doesn’t come.

    Instead my breath, my veins, they remain bated as the cheers from the courtyard erupt louder through the shut window—the Faelen people extolling Eogan and King Sedric for the truce the two kingdoms just signed.

    To our own King Sedric!

    And Eogan of Bron! Lost prince who helped defend Faelen!

    Lost prince who is now king of Bron.

    I lean back and clear my throat, then tip my head toward the sound. They’re calling for him to go back out there. Instead he’s here consorting with a slave.

    I give him a sly grin. What will they think? But abruptly my heart is dithering and thudding because, yes, what will they think? What will he think? The only man I’ve cared for is now the most notable person in the Hidden Lands. And I am still Elemental—recently elevated to revered status in Faelen maybe, but I doubt his Bron subjects will feel the same.

    He doesn’t answer. His grin just ripples and broadens.

    Suddenly his whole body is rippling, shaking beneath my fingers.

    I frown.

    Next thing I know he’s raised a scornful brow and uttered a growl and the broadening smile turns toothy.

    I pull away. What in hulls?

    The firelight bounces off of those teeth a moment, making them look long. Shiny. I’d think he was teasing if it didn’t look so disturbing, but he’s stretching his neck and shoulders, extending them up as if adjusting his spine beneath that undulating skin. When he straightens it’s to glare down at me, as if he is still Eogan. And yet not.

    Very carefully he sweeps his black bangs from his face and tucks them behind his ear in a sickening, all-too-familiar trait.

    It makes my stomach lurch. I swallow and retreat another step in my velvet slippers and white waste-of-someone’s-good-fortune dress.

    No.

    It can’t be.

    I warned you at the Keep, he whispers.

    Oh, please, no.

    Before I can ask or curse or make my mouth work in any way that forms words, he tips his head to reveal the slightly healed gash running down the back of his neck. Not a gash. A clawed incision.

    Exactly like Breck had when Draewulf cut her open and crawled inside her skin.

    I shake my head. It has to be a trick of Lord Myles. He must be alive and using his mind powers in retaliation.

    I squint, searching his face, waiting for the mirage to change, but he merely bends closer and tucks a swag of my hair behind my ear as a disgusting snarl mars his rich voice. I told you that you couldn’t save both Eogan and your country.

    My lungs empty as my heart crashes to the Castle’s stone floor.

    I blink once, twice, to clear my blasted vision. But there’s nothing to clear.

    It’s not a trick of Myles.

    It’s the face of the man I love taken over by a 130-year-old shape-shifting murderer.

    Draewulf. My breath is reeling and my heart is choking out of my chest. You didn’t. You couldn’t—

    Couldn’t? He lifts a hand to my snowy-white hair.

    My veins ripple, and that half smile I’ve come to care for most in the world goes eerie as his green eyes flicker to reveal black wolf eyes. You chose Faelen, he murmurs.

    One heartpulse . . .

    Two heartpulses . . .

    You should’ve kept a better eye on him, Nym.

    No, no, no, no. This is not happening. I curl my hand into a fist and cause the sky to thunder so loud my words shake the walls. What. Have you. Done?

    He bends closer. Took over Eogan while you were too busy saving the pathetic people who enslaved you.

    My breath explodes and I ignite like fire and maelstrom and murder. My body sizzles with the static sweeping through my blood as the siren inside that pushed back the airships, the siren that saved Faelen, flares through my Elemental veins.

    I lift my deformed left hand and place it against my trainer’s broad chest that now holds a monster. He clamps down on my arm.

    I don’t even think about it—I just let loose a surge of energy against him, as if to burn the beast from his body before considering the damage that doing so might cause. His skin lights up like brilliant night skies, but instead of melting him out, my energy molds into a shield over him—Eogan’s block somehow countering me in the only way it’s ever been able.

    Mother of a toothless— I let loose choice words owner number four’s mum taught me and press harder, drawing in a mass of clouds above the Castle courtyard where the atmosphere darkens.

    "That erratic temper of yours that he found so appealing does not amuse me, girl. You’ll stop. Now."

    A flick of my wrist and the lightning it elicits rips through the slit in the window seam, blasting the whole pane open in explosive shards across the floor. The lightning narrowly misses the bed as it cracks the air and practically shatters my eardrums. Eogan growls, and the curtains catch fire—the flames of cloth quickly drip to the seat before sliding to the small carpet.

    He snatches my crippled hand as if to soothe me, control me. "You will stop or—"

    Or what? I shove into his chest again to shoot a thin layer of ice from my gimpy, curled fingers, spreading it out across his skin and down his body onto the floor, toward the window and up onto the seat and curtains where it smothers the fire. The next instant the ice is crawling up from my hand to enter his mouth, his throat. His breathing turns labored. He begins choking. Gasping.

    Dying.

    Eogan’s body is dying at my hand.

    His eyes widen. As if Draewulf in him is surprised. Impressed. Kill me, and you’ll kill his body. His voice crackles in a tone that’s suddenly too close to Eogan’s. Too intimate. Too perfectly familiar.

    My hand falters.

    His grip tightens over the memorial tattoos on my left arm and Eogan’s ability to soothe rushes my veins, muting the fury, deflating the curse in my blood.

    I pull back. How dare he use Eogan’s block against me.

    But his lips curl as his other hand lashes up to rest right above my screaming heart. And suddenly he’s squelching something. Sucking the life-pulse.

    My insides are being carved up and cut out.

    What the—? The siren in my veins begins fluttering and beating, like a bird flailing for escape from the wave of heat barreling through. I try to jerk away, and for a second, I swear a cry breaks out from my rib cage before the hot surge courses in and cools to harden like doused metal underneath my skin, searing my blood to my bones. The siren’s scream falls silent and there is nothing but heaviness.

    My powers.

    My ability . . .

    I twitch my wrist at the sky to resummon the storm, but the clouds keep dissipating. What in hulls? I wrench harder, twisting my fingers to claim the night air, the wind, the rain.

    Except it’s not there.

    It’s gone.

    As if my Elemental blood has been drained and I am left a normal, non-Uathúil, Faelen person.

    What did you do?

    He merely pinches harder.

    I bat him away as his hands grab for my waist, my shoulders. I shove and squirm from his grip, but his fingers crumple my dress as he draws me firmly in place against his chest and sneers down from the mouth that kissed me exactly one week ago when we stood at the Keep while the world went to hulls around us in bursts of bombs and lightning. Consider it a gift—a deliverance from your curse, he whispers.

    I struggle against him, except even as I do, I’m inhaling Eogan’s scent of pine and honey mixed with smoke from the extinguished fire, and I am simultaneously yearning for him and disgusted. My fingers claw at his arms but he doesn’t seem to notice.

    He just smirks and slides his hand up to my throat.

    I stiffen and refuse to let him see in my expression how I’m bleeding at every single one of my heart seams. Go ahead.

    His fingers constrict.

    I gasp. Wheeze. And wait for the slow death of him shape-shifting into me even as my fingers try to tear chunks from his flesh.

    His hand crushes harder into my neck, cutting off my air. My vision swims until I’m clawing and writhing and a cry has seeped up from my throat. Oh hulls I can’t breathe. I knee him in the thigh, but he doesn’t even flinch. Then I’m gasping, flailing, dying.

    Just as my legs give way and my vision starts to blacken, he relents and I drop to the floor.

    Like taming a pet, he snarls. He flips around and strides to the door and opens it to a rush of music from the Great Hall that drowns out the shouts from the partygoers in the Castle courtyard. Don’t be late to the banquet. I’d like to think you’ll especially enjoy my toast praising your help in destroying Odion and handing me Bron’s throne.

    The door shuts without him looking back, sending a parting chill of horror to settle over me.

    I stare at the cracked, silver-plated wood as the realization emerges . . .

    I have saved the world only to lose the most beautiful pieces of my soul: Colin. Breck.

    Eogan.

    CHAPTER 2

    I GLARE AT THE CLOSED DOOR, SIMULTANEOUSLY holding my throat while cursing that illegitimate bolcrane offspring to come back.

    I can’t stop shaking. Exhale. Inhale. His scent is everywhere, piercing my nostrils, digging down my throat until I’m gagging on smoke and pulling myself up to scramble around the broken glass and ice. No no no no no! I lunge for the charred window and push my face out into the night air. The noise below is deafening—as if my erratic weather bursts only encouraged the people’s frenzy.

    I concentrate on breathing. Another inhale to clear my burning throat.

    My body sways heavily and shakes harder, and for a second I swear my veins seize up.

    I frown at my arms. What did he do to me?

    Focus on the atmosphere, Nym, I can almost hear Eogan whisper. It’s yours to control.

    I shut my eyes and lean in, yearning to feel him against my achy skin and chest cavity where, until a few minutes ago, my world existed. I can’t focus, I whisper. I don’t want to focus.

    Nym.

    No! I can’t do this without you.

    But the moment slows anyway.

    Focus on the atmosphere.

    I grit my teeth and open my eyes.

    Fine.

    I shove my hand toward the sky.

    Not even a breath of wind stirs as the golden candle bulbs rise into the now-perfect, starry heavens.

    I try again. And again—this time with both hands. Then with my voice, begging the Elemental inside to waken and rise.

    But it’s no use.

    The curse I’ve spent my entire life abhorring—the thing I trained so hard to control with Eogan. No. Longer. Exists.

    Just as Eogan no longer exists.

    Are you jesting? A scream rushes my lungs and explodes from my lips, but it’s hollow and heartless, with no thunder to back it up. Like the voice of a powerless child, it drowns into the party noise below. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!

    I turn back to my room, pick up the largest glass shards with my good hand, and hurl them at the walls, the fireplace, the door. How this happened I don’t know—I scarcely looked away from Eogan as he fought Draewulf at the Keep. Only a matter of moments. And afterward—when he was talking to his generals . . .

    Litches.

    His skin had looked sallow. Bruised. Bloody. With that incision behind his neck.

    My stomach turns. The thought of Draewulf slicing him open while I stood feet away—of Eogan dying, his essence being absorbed by the monster wearing him like a shell of flesh . . . I fling a thick glass spike into the door. Then another, and another.

    The last one thuds so hard it creates a crack across the overlay just as a knock sounds on the other side.

    Miss? a man’s clipped voice calls through.

    I pause.

    I’ve been asked to summon you to the banquet.

    What? I look around. Now? An awareness of what I’m supposed to be doing sinks in, as does the roomful of dissipating smoke and broken glass and the blood covering my palms that are somehow sliced like ribbons.

    Oh kracken. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this. I bend over as my head spins, bringing bile up my throat. Why didn’t you just kill me too? I yell at Draewulf.

    Miss?

    To hulls with your blasted banquet, I snap loud enough for the man to hear. But I go ahead and dab my hands on my dress and step over to the washbasin to dunk them in case he barges in.

    The cold water burns like litches. It scalds and sears the smoke from my head—enough to register the fact that not only am I supposed to be at the banquet, but Draewulf left me functioning enough to attend it. I steady my trembling arms. Bite my lip. Whatever he’s planning, he kept me alive to watch.

    Miss. The man’s voice comes again with a more insistent knock. Please. We need to hurry.

    Narrowing my eyes, I shove my blasted feelings so deep that the numb rises and spreads over them in a thin, fragile layer. Just go see what he’s got planned.

    I grab the drying cloth and stride to the door. I yank it open to find one of the captain’s guards. Tannin, if I recall, with his brown eyes, brown skin, and hair that sticks up like a thatched roof.

    His expression is full of admiration as he tips his head politely. The celebration— He stalls, and I watch the discreet slide of his eyes down my white waist-length Elemental hair to my blood-smeared dress. He makes a shocked noise in the back of his throat.

    I’ll be a few minutes.

    I shut the door and, turning back to the water-basin table, pull one of my knives from its sheath. Shakily, I use it to shred the drying cloth into strips and tie the material around my bleeding palms, pressing them hard until the oozing subsides, then walk to the wardrobe King Sedric had someone fill with the lavish-type dresses we both despise. Not because they’re not gorgeous—they are—but because they’re a disgusting waste of money when the peasant population has spent the last forty years starving.

    I pull out a sleeveless black gown with no layers or buttons, which makes it easy to slip into despite my sliced palms and my left hand’s fingers that are permanently curled inward almost to a fist. The fingers that never healed right after Brea, owner fourteen, took a mallet to them when my lightning strike took her husband’s sight because he couldn’t keep his anger to himself.

    Once on, the dress shimmers and flows around my frame. A look in the mirror while I carefully drag a brush down my hair shows the dress does more than flow and cling. The color sets off the black trellis of owner- and memorial-tattooed markings circling my bare arms. It darkens them, making them look eerie. Uncomfortable.

    Huh. Good.

    I pick up my sheath of knives and strap the blades to my calf, then tug my dress over them. I firm my jaw. Hold it together, Nym. At least until you figure out what the kracken to do.

    Except everything within me whispers that I already know what I need to do.

    Miss? The man taps on the door again.

    I lift my chin and straighten my unsteady shoulders. And harden my blue eyes before forcing the falsest grin I’ve ever smiled and walking over to open the blood-smeared, glass-impaled door.

    Tannin’s still standing there. He doesn’t offer an arm. The veneration in his gaze is shadowed by a flash of fear. He’s afraid to touch me.

    I almost give a caustic laugh. Up until twenty minutes ago he should’ve been terrified.

    Now? I’m as impotent as you are, I nearly tell him.

    Glad you could join us. His expression edges back toward that ridiculous awe that the guards and knights and so many in Faelen are newly inclined to place on me. I frown. He looks about to say something further but seems to think better of it and waits until I shut the door before falling in beside me. King Sedric sent me to persuade you.

    I nod stiffly.

    He’s requested to see you, he prods. And I must say what an impression your style will make this evening. His eyes dip to my wrapped palms. Very . . . stunning.

    My attempt at politeness falters. I can’t do it. I clench my teeth and let my glare smolder down the corridor in front of us, and after a moment he, smartly, seals his mouth like a tomb.

    One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes eke by until we reach the Great Hall. Before he leads me in, Tannin turns to face me. His cheeks are blushing like berries and suddenly he’s fumbling a crisp, folded kerchief from beneath his guard doublet and holding it out to me. Miss, I was wondering if you’d mind giving a token, a kiss perhaps, for me to take home.

    I stare at him.

    He smiles as if he’s serious.

    Is he insane? Up until a week ago my kiss would’ve been considered a curse. I’m not a lady for knights to request tokens from, I mutter, and go to push past him.

    It’s for my daughter.

    I stall.

    Please.

    I peer at him. Loosen my jaw. How old is she?

    Eight. And she’s real proud of what you’ve done for us—for Faelen.

    A moment longer and I hold out my hand for the cloth and place it against my lips in what is the most awkward thing I’ve ever done in my life. Tell her it’s the innocent who died in battle who deserve her respect, not the warriors who lived, I say, returning it to him. Especially not one who was only there because of accidental powers.

    He blushes even darker. Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.

    I go to stride past him but catch the look as he drops his gaze. I hesitate. Tell her it’s people like her father she should respect, I say softer. The ones who serve because they have faith in justice.

    He peers up and his eyes widen, then sparkle, and I try not to feel ill while turning to enter the shiny balcony.

    The space is already filled with heavily perfumed people, most of whom are looking down upon the enormous lower room that’s stuffed to the walls with prominent individuals fawning over food-heavy tables and a mini-carnival.

    I shake off the embarrassing cloth-kissing and dart my gaze about for Eogan-turned-Draewulf as acrobats, panther-monkeys, and even a baby oliphant prance around on the stage below. Behind them, giant arched windows and mural-painted walls edge up against the open doors and outside patios, giving the room a depth that brings the frescoed firefly trees and Hythra Crescent Mountains to life.

    I search the corners for Eogan, but only find vedic harpies swinging from cages, humming their songs about the sea. Their music is enough to trigger a bizarre homesickness for my previous owner Adora’s home and her parties with Eogan and Colin. I purse my lips. Who’d have thought I’d miss anything about that woman?

    Turning my eyes, I tune them out even as my stiff shoulders threaten to buckle. Blasted hulls, Eogan, why couldn’t you have let me shield you?

    Find him and do what you have to, Nym.

    This way, miss. Tannin beckons me to the crowd in the center of the loft where he proceeds to weave me around their warm bodies. The elegant people fall away from us with eager glances and murmurs. Some are already too full of wine to walk decently, but apparently not enough to prevent them from noticing my sea-blue eyes and everything else about me that shouts Elemental.

    They say she took down Bron’s airships with a single lightning strike, someone excitedly whispers.

    Two, another says. The first took out the archers.

    No, no, she used her breath. Inhaled the wind and blew them back to Bron.

    I raise a brow and can’t help the smirk at that one. It fades as soon as my chest tightens with the rawness of not having Colin beside me. He would’ve laughed and never let me hear the end of it. My breath? I straighten. Keep walking.

    Either way, do you think it wise having her at the High Court? Look at those bandages on her hands. Are we certain she’s safe?

    No, but it doesn’t matter. Rumor is she’ll be invited to leave for Bron with King Eogan soon.

    Figures, a man’s voice titters too loudly. Anyone can tell she’s vying to be that man’s queen. Can you imagine? A week ago she was a slave. As if she’d know the first thing about court life. Now, if it was that visiting Cashlin princess, Rasha . . .

    I keep my head up and don’t give them the luxury of knowing that my ears are, in fact, clearly working even if the man’s insults are more comforting than any of the praise. I look around. Where is Princess Rasha? Less than an hour ago she was in my room playing with knives and hinting encouragements about Eogan. How did she not see this coming with Draewulf?

    Tannin stops and I almost trip over him onto King Sedric, who’s speaking with men I recognize as part of the High Council. In their shiny green doublets and pointy-heeled shoes, they remind me of the garish Adora. Especially beside His Royal Highness who’s as boyish-looking and underdressed as ever. I curtsy as protocol dictates and nod at his guards nearby. They visibly relax and my hard eyes soften a bit at this man-boy who’s two years older than me—nineteen—but seems twenty more, and who fought without flinching at Eogan’s and my side.

    He stops speaking and turns a kind smile. Nym.

    Your Highness.

    I’m pleased you could make it down this evening.

    I’m honored to be invited. My throat tightens. Tell him about Eogan.

    His merry gaze falls on my clothbound palms and narrows with apparent concern. I hope you know this celebration is as much in praise to you as it is the treaty.

    Thank you, Your Majesty, but the gratitude is rightly placed on your shoulders. My eyes flick behind him, beyond the guards, in search of Eogan. You have to tell him, Nym. I clench my fingers and feel the pain from the cuts shoot up my arms.

    Tell him you’re all in danger.

    I open my mouth again.

    But my tongue thickens and heat clogs my throat. I don’t know how to do it. I can’t make the words come out from my lips that will sentence Eogan’s body to death by the hands of someone who hardly knows him. Even if Sedric is my king. You have my respect and gratitude, I whisper instead. Especially regarding your mercy toward my Elemental race.

    King Sedric grins and glances at the councilmen who are sloshing the drinks they’ve raised in our direction. He leans politely toward me. I’d relish the chance to speak with you about your heritage as well as the plight of the Faelen citizens, if I may have the honor of a dance later this evening?

    I nod before retreating so he can return to his conversation.

    Good luck, miss, Tannin says, and, with a grateful wink and a half bow, leaves me alone in a sea of people I barely know who’re full of blatant gawks and wearing giant, poofed hats that look exactly like the black-and-red Bron airships. Complete with larva-shaped balloons.

    I swallow and head to the balcony’s ledge and glare over it. Colin and Eogan should be here with me, mocking the ridiculousness of the outfits, of the luxury, listening while I scream that Draewulf is not dead.

    Instead I swear I hear their ghosts whispering that he’s going to wipe out this entire room and take Faelen. Just like he tried to at the Keep.

    I grit my teeth and lean over the gilt railing to peer down below to look for him.

    The lights flicker oddly, urging me to hurry my scan of the faces. Where is he?

    Nervous chuckles break out as the candle lights blink again. I straighten and look up just as the glow flickers a third time and the crowd’s laughter ceases.

    What’s going on? someone whispers. Who’s putting out the lights?

    CHAPTER 3

    TWAS A HUNDRED YEARS AGO AND THE BLOODIEST night in Faelen history."

    The creepy voice is accentuated by dimming candles and a low rumble of drums, and the entire room is instantly focused on the ten-foot-tall speaker in front of the stage.

    My relieved sigh slips out. I don’t even have to see the man to recognize him as the funny dwarf, wearing stilts, from the Travellers’ Carnival who gave me, Colin, and Eogan breakfast the morning after I caused an avalanche. The morning after Eogan first kissed me.

    Allen the Fabler, Travelling Baronet. A smile rises at his kindness, at the memory he brings, but I’m fairly certain acknowledging it would dissolve what wisps of sanity I have left.

    He looms over the audience, flourishing his short arms to make shadows on the wall. Three kingdoms—Faelen, Bron, an’ Drust were at war. His voice booms through the air. "Except the real war was here, near where you’re all standin’. And Faelen’s streets began runnin’ with blooooood."

    I recoil and go back to my search just as shivers and whistles reverberate through the crowd, urging on the dwarf’s recount of Faelen’s most horrific legend—The Monster and the Sea of Elisedd’s Sadness. As if the story is somehow now of interest to those high courtiers who doubted Draewulf ever existed as anything more than a past rival king. Have they decided to acknowledge him now that he’s supposedly dead? Or maybe they’re simply celebrating the happier ending tacked on. What has King Sedric told them?

    Under a fog-cloaked night, the dwarf continues, Drust’s evil king, Draewulf, snuck through these streets. Behind him a group of wild-looking actors emerge on the low stage.

    "Shape-shiftin’ into human form to draw in men, women, and youngsters. Then returnin’ to his wolf form to slay ’em, one by one."

    Stop, I want to hiss at him. You’re only encouraging whatever Draewulf’s got planned. But I keep my mouth shut and the dwarf keeps going as I push my way through the audience. The men and women I bump into give me startled looks followed by comments of well done and Faelen’s weapon. I ignore them. Where is he? He should be close, enjoying the sound of his own disgusting story.

    A loud growl from the dwarf just about yanks me from my skin. My swearing is met by that of the spellbound listeners as the performers do five flips before falling theatrically on the ground—all except for the one dressed as a wolf, who pretends to devour them.

    The dwarf laughs. "But when the captain o’ the guard caught up with him that evenin’, Draewulf was dressed up like one o’ the men he’d just killed. Climbed inside his body and slowly absorbed his soul. ’Til there was nothin’ left except his wolf self hidin’ inside the man’s flesh."

    I should’ve plugged my ears. My stomach turns. I begin weaving faster through the balcony crowd. There are too many bodies and giant hats swaying to the dwarf’s word rhythm. C’mon, Eogan, where are you?

    "An’ the only reason the captain was able to catch him and bring him in? The shape-shifter allowed it. Wanted an audience with Faelen’s King Willem."

    Someone tumbles against me and I reach out to keep from tripping. Beg your pardon, I mutter, before recognizing one of the few Bron guards allowed in the

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