Sound of Sirens

Chapter 6

My heart stops.

The sound is so clean. So smooth. Nothing like my scratchy record player. The piano music envelops me like sweet honey and a warm blanket, cascading over me like a gracious waterfall. The cello kicks in and then the woman starts to sing an evocative, melancholy song. I understand, even though the words don't really make sense sometimes.

We abandon the sinking ship of this reality. Let the sounds of the deep blue silent ocean take us where we are no more than ourselves.

Sytse was right. She does sing like the Sirens. Her haunting voice resonates with me as though I'm listening to the Nixen singing of times long gone, echoing a deep and hungry longing.

I bite my lip to stop myself from welling up. This is the most fragile and delicate song I've ever heard, and it seems to go on forever. Just this one song is longer than a regular 78-record.

When I cautiously glance over at Royce, I notice that he's closed his eyes. Like this, he looks as vulnerable as the song sounds. No wonder he was willing to mingle with Skylgers to listen to this LP – it's so much like the music he composes himself. And for the first time, I wonder where he draws his inspiration from. How does someone manage to create something this beautiful?

When the song ends and segues into another, neither of us moves. Instead, we envelop ourselves with more sweet sounds of angelic voices, cello, and piano, filling the late hours of night. But inevitably, the record has to end at some point. After the tone arm clicks off automatically, we sit there in silence for quite a while.

"Wow," I finally say, but the word sounds flimsy and shallow. It makes me hate myself for breaking this reverent silence.

Royce opens his eyes and shoots me a wan smile. "I know." He takes a deep breath, then rushes on: "This is as close as I can get to listening to Siren song without going crazy, you know."

"Why would you willingly listen to the Nixen?" I say, taken aback.

"Because they infuse me with a sense of..." He pauses, lost for words. "Wonder," he then adds.

I scoff. Wonder? Does this guy even understand how dangerous the merfolk is to people like me – inhabitants of coastal towns who can't fight the Sadness any longer?

"Some artists in my family used to seek them out," Royce relates in a soft voice. "I did too, sometimes. Their song inspires me to write my own music. But it's easy to get lost in the sound of Sirens. That is why we Currents have ways to raise the alarm and shield ourselves off."

"Yeah. You drown yourselves in electronic beats while pulling away the shutters from the top of your precious tower to blast the seas with Brandan's Fire," I say sarcastically. "And you don't care what happens to us living in the middle and the east."

Royce frowns. "The Skylgers are welcome to live closer to Brandaris."

"So we can all be your serfs? No, thank you."

"You should be grateful that the Baeles-Weards are willing to protect your people," he points out huffily. "Without them, many more men and women might have been lost."

"Grateful?" My voice cracks. "Why? Because you keep all the good stuff to yourselves? Because you took away our gods and our language? Because your priests and their sacred fire failed to protect my mother?"

That shuts him up. "We're sharing what we can," he mumbles at last. "What happened to your mom?"

I stare at my hands. "The Nixen took her."

"Mine too." His voice is rough.

My eyes flash to his. "They did?"

"Yeah." He rakes a hand through his hair. "She always heard them. She couldn't shut them out. And by the end, she was addicted to listening to their harmonies. Said it helped her create her paintings."

I inhale deeply. "She walked into the sea?"

"Yes. She left me." He sounds like a little boy, not like an entitled heir to the Bolton kingdom.

"And then you stopped listening to the merfolk?" I add gingerly.

His mouth is set in a grim line now. "Yes. And once I finish college I'm going to design a security system that will keep them away from our island forever. No matter how wonderful they make me feel. No matter how tempting their voices are."

Sounds like he's fighting an addiction. The thought of affluent, pampered Currents getting their fix from the call of dangerous creatures of the sea makes my stomach turn. If they feel so empty inside, maybe they should grow a heart and help their neighbors instead.

"I suppose you could do that," I mutter.

Royce shoots me a puzzled look, as though he expected more encouragement or admiration. Well, I'm not giving him either.

"So why did your mother listen to them?" he inquires when I don't volunteer any more comments.

"Because..." I fall silent. "She was just not very happy. Prone to melancholy. We call it the Sadness. People in coastal towns suffer from it. Our Skelta says it's because they're so close to the world of the Nixen. My dad put my mom on a strictly fish-free diet to try and alleviate the symptoms, but it didn't work in the end."

"I didn't know about your sickness."

"I bet there's an awful lot you don't know about us," I snip.

He sighs. "You're probably right. I mean, look at me – I haven't even asked you what your name is."

I shrug as though I don't mind. "Who cares? I'm just the girl with the LP that you want."

"Well, I should care. What's your name?" His face breaks into a friendly, genuine smile, and it trips up my heart. Despite his infuriating superiority, I want him to like me. I want him to smile at me like he cares.

"Enna," I say.

"Nice to meet you, Enna," he says formally, extending his hand so I can shake it. "I'm Royce."

"Yeah, I know that," I laugh. "Everyone knows that."

He grins a bit awkwardly. "Well, I hope they say nice things about me."

I blush, suddenly feeling guilty for gossiping about him with Dani and the other girls at school. We always thought he was so arrogant, but we didn't really know that much about him. "My best friend and I love your music," I confess. "We never miss your recitals at Oorol."

"So you like piano music?"

I nod mutely. His concerts have always been a joy to the ears. And eyes, admittedly – but I'd rather drop dead than divulge that information. I never even told Dani about ogling Royce on stage.

"Let's listen to some more music," he says, his voice and eyes eager. "I'm going to play side B, okay?"

"Sure."

As we sit there and listen to Heroes of Bones, Broken Mirror, and Labyrinth, it dawns on me how bizarre and impossible this situation truly is. In equal parts, I've admired and hated this guy from afar for such a long time. And now I'm here, and we're connecting and bickering and sharing a passion. And I know I'm screwed, because I haven't felt this exhilarated in a long time.