The climb to shore was slow and silent as I fell into step with Inala, my newfound blood claimed Siren by my side.
"So, since we're blood claimed or bonded or whatever it might be calledâdoes that mean that I can't lie to you, too, or is that just you? And can you tell me what to do as well?"
"If you weren't a Siren yourself, then no, but you are. So let's test it out. Josephine, slap yourself in the face."
There was a slight tug to my hand, as if my body wanted me to do what she'd directed, but it was easy to ignore, like not following the urge to sneeze or cough if I didn't have to.
"Hm. Interesting. Tell me, what's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?"
I couldn't stop it that time, couldn't clamp my mouth shut to keep the words from spilling out of my mouth.
"Once, when I was twelve years old, I was on the run with my sister. We ran into a parade of soldiers from Valencia. They captured us and forced us to dance in the stockades for them half dressed. It was...humiliating, to say the least."
"Why didn't you just kill them?"
"I did. All of them. They put their hands on Marlisa, and then everything went black. I woke drenched in their blood."
She snorted.
"Good riddance."
"So, you can't tell me what to do, but can force me to tell you the truth? Why is that?"
"I don't know. I'm supposed to be able to, if you really are a Siren. That's why the sailors did what they wanted with meâSirens can't tell their blood bonded what to do if they're not a Siren as well. That's why we don't allow blood claims outside of the Sirens if we can help itâif both bonded Sirens have the power to tell the other what to do, the power isn't imbalanced. How can you breathe white smoke-fire?"
I bristled, but was still forced to tell her.
"I have no idea."
Inala hummed to herself, then went to work digging underneath her fingernails with her suddenly elongated talons.
"You can turn forms at will? I thought Sirens needed water for that?"
"You're not the only special one. I inherited this trait from my mother, wherever in the Everworld she might be. It's usually only reserved for the most powerful of us, so it seems like she gave me one good thing, at least."
Wispy strands of sharp sea grass grazed along my bare calves thanks to Oren's handiwork with his blade to the bottom half of my dress and decorated my already glittering skin with more golden trails of the powdery substance from the dried sea water that glowed in the high daylight.
My fingers scraped along the sharp edges of the weeds burrowing out of the sparkling sand and tried not to glance ahead at what lay before meâat the terrifying future awaiting there.
"And what of your father?"
"Died when I turned thirty. The men we mate with never last as long as us, and neither do our fathers. It's just another part of our curse. Or maybe its a blessing, considering the kinds of men I always seem to come across. My father was a good man, though. I wouldn't say that of most of the men in Hefeta, however."
"You didn't kill anyone when you were younger because of the song?"
"Gods, no. They taught us nearly as soon as we came out of the womb to keep our mouths closed, and until we were old enough to understand, we kept the men far enough away to survive the call. Most of the men in Hefeta live on an entirely different side of the community, far enough away to stay alive."
There was that wicked gleam in her glimmering blue eyes once more, a playfulness and liveliness that had once seemed to be leached from her body when speaking about her family.
"So...what of the married couples with children? Do the mothers keep the children from their fathers until they're old enough to understand what their song could do?"
And if so, why hadn't my own mother done that for me? Or hadn't she known what exactly I was?
"Hurry up ladies, the Sirens aren't too happy to see us," Oren interrupted from behind us, catching my elbow with his firm grip and helping me to trudge along the thick, hot sand shifting beneath my nearly worn through boots.
"That's the best part, Joâcan I call you Jo? The men are only used for breeding in Hefeta, no married couples in sightâonly the men who are immune to the song are allowed to enter in a blood claim with a Siren, but no marriage."
"No marriage? But what ifâ"
"Don't tell me you've got notions of true love, Josephine, do you? After everything you've seen in this world?"
For some reason, Oren's mouth by my ear speaking about 'true love' was enough to make my stomach explode into twin bursts of fire that scorched me all the way through, and when I turned in his direction to catch his amber gaze, he charred everything else inside me to ash.
"So what if I did?"
"Please tell me we're not discussing 'true love' before meeting with the three oldest Elders in all of Siren history."
Soraya's tone was scratchy and weary, as if she'd swallowed far too much seawater and spent the past few minutes coughing up her lungs.
Yuni and Soraya met us just at the base of a sand dune that was a short trek up to the line of gathering Sirens whispering amongst themselves.
Dressed similarly to Yuni and Soraya, the Sirens within eyeshot were decorated in lavish white robes of golden inlay stitching that gleamed against the afternoon light.
Hair of blonde, black, brown and red were interspersed amongst the crowd, each head done up in various intricately braided hairstyles interwoven with bay leaves and bright lavender stems.
There were no men in the crowd, just as Inala had foreseen.
"Soraya's right. There are much more important things to discuss. Things like why in the Everworld would the Sirens not be happy to see us?"
"They're just not happy to see Oren. Let's just say that the last time Oren visited, he didn't exactly go quietly on his exit."
Inala's pointed answer to my question piqued my interest at what exactly Oren could've done to earn the ire of the Sirens at our front, but the three elderly women clad in deep scarlet robes completely different from the rest of the Sirens stepped forward as one and pinned all of their eyes directly at me.
Completely ignoring Oren, the woman in the middle who still had jet black hair despite her wrinkled face addressed her question to me first.
"Are you Josephine Raphelia?"
"Yes, she is. I've brought her here in order toâ"
"We know why you've brought her here, Lord Oren. I wasn't speaking to you, either."
The woman turned her age weathered face to me once more.
"Yes, I am."
"Where is your sister? I heard you two never go anywhere without the other."
There was far too much interest in Marlisa from this woman that I certainly did not appreciate.
There was something off about the gleam in her eyes not dissimilar to Inala eyeing the food I dangled above the hot spring keeping her captive.
"I didn't necessarily have a choice in the matter of bringing her with me, I'm afraid."
The Elder's sharp eyes cut to Oren who stood stiff and still just to the right of me and slightly behind me, one arm curling ever so slowly around the dip of my waist like he was preparing to sweep me up and run far far away from here.
Just as his grip tightened to the point of pain, however, the second Elder to the first woman's left stepped forward with a beaming smile stretching across her textured face.
Her hair was deep red matching the color of the robes hanging off her thin frame and as she looked down on us from her perch on the sand dune, I could've sworn there was happiness shining somewhere in the depths of her light eyes.
"Welcome back to Hefeta, Josephine. Welcome home."
"Back?"
"Oh, of course you don't remember. I am Olesia. I was your night nurse when you were just barely out of the womb. Velda and Treasa here didn't watch over you or your sister much, but we were all devastated when you were takenâ"
"When they left, you mean?"
Velda, the dark haired Elder, interrupted Olesia.
Which meant Treasa was the one on the end with the grey hair, I concluded, who'd remained stoic and blank faced about the whole thing.
"Hush now, or you'll scare the poor thing," Olesia cut in, cutting off the first Elder.
"You must forgive my sisterâshe can be quite temperamental when she wants."
They must've all been sisters, then. Olesia, Velda, and Treasa.
"Welcome back to Hefeta. We've been waiting for so very long for your return. When the songbird trills its last songâ"
"âdo not be afraid to sing along," the rest of the Sirens lining the small sand hill finished in an eerie chant.
Chills erupted along my skin as the saying from the flash I'd had of my father when I was only a five-year-old little girl stole the breath out of my lungs, and Oren peered down at me in worry.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Iâit's nothing."
Some strange, infinitesimal piece of me was finally starting to stitch itself back together.
Something was clicking into place inside of me, and it all had to do with this place, with these people standing before me.
As one, the Sirens raised their arms as the Elders did, and as they moved away from the barrier of gilded sand in front of us, winds similar to those that forced us off our boat began whipping down on the shore.
The force of the winds were deafening, and Oren placed his arms around me protectively as Inala stood, arms outstretched with a gleeful grin stretching her mouth apart as razor sharp teeth elongated in her mouth and thenâ
The sands in front of us parted with a mighty crack that nearly split the world in two.
Where there was once clear air and shore and sand, there suddenly was rock and a hard, flat surface beneath my feet.
Sand peppered the air golden and tan, swirling and swirling in spirals and loops of magic until energy pulsed in the air and all I could focus on was the warmth emanating from Oren's body, protecting me, and then everything was black, courtesy of Oren's hands shielding my eyes from the onslaught of stinging sand and small, sharp rocks.
No one was yelling, though.
No, they were all chanting something low and ominous and filled with vibrations that seemed to wrack the ground in anticipating shudders.
As if the land were stitching itself back together after being cleaved apart by an angry god with a wrath unmatched by all those in the ancient pantheon.
Silence eroded the noise until all that was left was the sighing and shifting of sand as it fell back down to the land in one sweeping shift of energy.
I cracked open my eyes, and what befell my vision was that of the tales Marlisa would spin to me at night before bed.
"There once was a magical land, dotted with lakes and rivers and ravines and rolling hills of the most beautiful wildflowers filled with every color imaginable. The women living there used the hillside as their homes, carving them out and building out onto the mountain. The temples there were cut from the white rocks of the mountain and the altar statues were transformed to embody the form of the god being worshipped.
"In her songbird form, the statue of the Goddess Nalini stood watch over the winds. In his form of a snow wolf, Nicos, the God of north wind and ice kept the peace between all the gods in the pantheon. In her lunar form, Aluma, the Goddess of the moon, stood stoic as a crescent moon. In the form of an everlasting wave, Jarek, the God of the seas, became destined to keep the waters clear from disaster and strife.
"In her mortal form with a lover on her arm, Adira, the Goddess of Beauty, brought love and affection to the rest of the pantheon. In his form of holding a woman with a round belly, Amon, the God of fertility, kept the lands replenished and fruitful. In her form of a strike of lightning, Gesa, the Goddess of storms, brought balance to the world.
"In his form of a sword, Amell, the God of war, kept his weapon of protection raised over those with honor. In her form of a three leaved grain, Iraida, Goddess of the harvest, kept the people fed and happy. In his mortal form with his gilded physique, Inti, the God of the sun, kept the world awash in sunlight.
"Etana, the Goddess of the Everworld, guided lost and passed spirits into her realm for peace and prosperity for eternity, taking the form of a guiding hand. But it is KyanâGod of shadows and death, that held no statue for worship, for who would worship the God of death?"
And just as Marlisa's bedtime stories had prepared me for itâbecause we'd both apparently lived in this breathtaking, exquisite landâI set foot into the Siren community of Hefeta, raised my face, and inhaled the scent I used to believe belonged to Port City.
But I was wrong.
So, so wrong.
That scent that Oren carriedâthat I used to believe were from memories of a different homeâwere actually that of here, of Hefeta, of a homeland I never knew I'd had.
Cinnamon and the unmistakable scent of wood burning a sweet bonfire smoke invaded my senses.
I tilted my head back to capture Oren's eyes, and I smiled.
***
Author's Note:
What did you think about this chapter?
What do you think will happen now that Josephine is actually home?
What do you want to happen next?
Where do you think the relationship is going to go with Oren and Josephine?
Any plot twist theories?
Until next time my lovely readers,
Kristen :)
***
The World of Irena: