Sound of Sirens: (Tales of Skylge #1) (11 page)

“I know that.” His voice is gentle, unwavering. “I just wanted your life to be simple.”

A bitter laugh bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down. If only he knew how complicated things have become as of late. “Don’t worry about me,” I reply. “I’ll take things in my stride. You don’t need to protect me.”

“No.” His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly. “No, I guess not.”

And suddenly, I want nothing more than to fling my arms around him and disappear into my father’s embrace. Let him shield me from this world with so many dangers and heartache lurking in every corner. But I can’t – I can never go back, because I crossed that threshold when I thought I was ready, and now the door has fallen shut behind me. I’m no longer a child, and we’ll have to assume new roles and get to know each other again.

I grab his hand. “I love you,” I simply say. “And I’m fine.”

He smiles. “I love you too. I’m glad to hear you feel fine.”

The thought of seeing Royce again today makes me feel more than just fine. It’s as though the blood scorches my veins passing through my feverishly-beating heart. He’ll come to Kinnum, for
me
, and he’ll sit with me in my secret hide-away. It’s too much – a silly, girlish daydream unable to survive in the open air of the real world. And yet, I have no doubt he’ll be here at noon. He likes me, because I am real.

––––––––

W
hen I hear the clock tower in the distance toll out the half-hour after eleven, I pack up a bag of books, snacks, and a bottle of elderflower cordial. Last but not least, I grab the portable gramophone and a selection of records.

“I need to get some fresh air,” I announce to my father as I step out the door and find him weeding in the front garden. “The walls are closing in on me.”

“Off for a seaside stroll?” He eyes my baggage. “Or a beach picnic?”

“Both. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

The road running alongside our yard is deserted, because most people living in Kinnum have gone to the festival in Osterend, Baydunen, or the big stage in Brandaris. They have quite a line-up today – even better than yesterday evening in Upper Brandaris. Last night, as I made my way back home after meeting Royce in Stortum, I could see the Current light show in the distance. Very faintly, like a brilliant sunset I’d narrowly missed. The fog-dimmed electric lights had lit up the sky as though to mock the uninvited like me. But I didn’t mind – I’d been to a more private party with a far more satisfying ending.

I peripherally notice a few kids running toward the beach holding metal buckets. They’ll be hunting for small crabs. I used to do the same in the early summer months with Dani and Alke. For just a second, I’m worried they will see me and Royce together, but I know they’ll be focused on scanning the sand for shellfish. Sooner or later, they’ll start walking sideways just like those animals. We used to get dizzy from hunting them too.

I turn my eyes toward the road once more. My step falters when I see him – Royce is standing by the signpost I told him to meet me at, his arms crossed and his lean body turned toward the sea. He’s squinting against the sun hitting his face, but it doesn’t make him look awkward or weird. In that moment, he is so much like the out-of-my-league crown prince of Brandaris that I always admired from afar that I want to turn around and run far, far away. He’s not for me.

But when our eyes collide and his mouth turns up in an endeared little smile at the sight of me clutching the gramophone, I forget all that. I deserve to be with someone who gets me and who sets my heart alight.

“Hi,” he greets me, his voice soft and melodic. “You want me to carry some of that?”

“Sure.” I try not to look too smitten when he grabs the handle of the record player like a real gentleman. “It’s quite heavy.”

“You’re right.” He looks surprised. “Why is that?”

“The mechanism inside is sort of clunky, I guess. It needs a steel spring and a protective case around it.”

“Is that how it runs?” He sounds fascinated. “By winding up a spring?”

“Well, yeah. How does your turntable work, then?”

“It runs on electricity. The power from the Grid keeps it spinning indefinitely if I don’t turn it off.”

He makes it sound like magic. I’ve always believed it
is
magic, or at the very least, something sacred. If St. Brandan’s Fire needs an entire club of priests and priestesses like the Baeles-Weards to protect it and tend to it, it must be special.

“Shall we walk?” I say, gesturing to the east.

He just nods and falls into step next to me when I saunter down the path following the line of the Stortumer Dyke. Overhead, the seagulls shriek, diving down and swooping back up, always in sync with the wind tormenting our shores. I imagine high waves beating down on the beach in the summer sun while Royce and I stand in the surf, the legs of our pants rolled up to dip our feet in the water.

“Did you know that people go swimming in the sea near Harns?” I say softly. “In summertime? They go out for days on the beach to cool off.”

Royce shoots me an incredulous look. “You mean they’re not scared of the water?”

“No.” I can still summon up the image of a crowded beach in my mind. Sytse once brought me a black-and-white postcard from the mainland depicting the beach at Harns, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. “The Sirens don’t come there.”

He smiles faintly. “That must be wonderful.”

“Have you ever been to the mainland?” I want to know.

“No. Have you?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I just like listening to my brother’s stories, I guess. Traveling there is way too dangerous.”

“Why does he do it? Your brother, I mean?”

“Sytse told me he needs more space,” I say. “He wants to see the world, and he doesn’t mind risking his life in order to expand his horizon.” Plus, the pay is really good. Dad and I would have starved to death a long time ago if Sytse didn’t bring in the money to support us, but I’m not telling him that. My Skylger friends don’t even know that.

“I guess he longs for a different life,” Royce mumbles. “I’d feel trapped here too.”

“If you weren’t part of the Current elite, you mean?” My voice sounds a bit accusatory.

He smiles wistfully. “Yeah. Some of us belonging to Current society feel trapped, even.”

“Then why don’t you leave?”

“Our ferries are also attacked by Sirens. You know that. Even more frequently.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” I stare at him. “If your people feel trapped here, why don’t you pack up and live somewhere else? Like I said – the mainland is outside Nixen territory. Why did St. Brandan ever decide to sail to Skylge and make his home here?”

“To safeguard the Fire,” he promptly replies, as though he’s dredging up the explanation from a textbook.

“Well, couldn’t he have safeguarded the Fire somewhere else? In Fryslan? Nethersaxony? Back in Anglia?”

Royce pulls up short and I stop in my tracks right next to him. As he searches my face, I can feel a tingle of fear shooting across my shoulders. Does he think I’m a blasphemer?

“You should probably not question St. Brandan’s motives or wisdom in my presence,” he says at last. “Or in front of other Currents.”

“You just don’t know why your people are here, do you?” I mutter crabbily, even though I know he means well. He’s warning me where he could be reporting me to the Baeles-Weards right this minute.

And then, to my surprise, he shakes his head. “No, I don’t,” he admits softly. “And I wish I did. I’ve been wondering the same thing, but the priests aren’t exactly forthcoming with their clarifications.”

“Well...” My voice falters. “Maybe you should find out.”

“Who am I to question the way things are?” he says bitterly. “I’m rich. My family is important. I go home to a safe house filled with warmth and light and music, all thanks to St. Brandan’s Fire.”

“You should question it because your mother walked away from all that,” I point out. “All that warmth and light and luxury couldn’t keep her away from the Sirens on our shores. If only you lived somewhere else, that never would have happened.”

“Same goes for you,” he shoots back. “Why are your people still here?”

“Because this is
our
island.” I clench my fists. “We were here before you, and we built our lives on Skylge even before Brandan and his Holy Fire showed up.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “That’s true.” Without another word, he slowly resumes walking, and while we bridge the rest of the distance separating us from my secret cave, he doesn’t speak anymore. Actually, my very own response makes my mind reel a bit. I never consciously thought about it, but the pride of the Skylger people is related to this place. This is our home, and no matter how dangerous things get, this is where we belong. It doesn’t make sense for the Currents to feel the same way, though. And Royce seems to realize that all too well. No one has ever fully explained to him why the Anglians insist on living on this island. I’ve sowed a small seed of doubt in his mind, and I have no idea what it will blossom into.

By the time we get to the grotto, my hands ache from carrying my shopping bag. I should have used my backpack. The stairs leading down to the man-made cave are hidden by a cluster of trees and a hatch that I instruct Royce to lift up. With wide eyes, he stares down into the darkness. “I’m really supposed to go in there like this?” he says. “No lights?”

“You think my hide-away is connected to the Grid?” I counter with a little eye roll.

He chuckles. “Okay, fine. I won’t wimp out. But if I trip, I might drop your phonograph.”

That gives me pause. “You have a point. Let’s swap.” With a little grin, I take the player from him and hand him my bag of food, drinks, and books. Royce grins back. His lopsided smile suddenly makes me blush, and very much aware of the cramped space we’ll be sitting in all afternoon.

We stumble down the stairs and I can hear him gasp when I close the hatch and plunge the corridor into complete darkness. “Just put your hand against the left wall and feel your way forward,” I suggest. “It’s an even floor.”

His footsteps hesitantly shuffle down the passageway. I put my hand on his shoulder, both to comfort him and to let him guide me. The tunnel curves to the left, and after about ten seconds of darkness, we see light at the end. I blink my eyes against the sunlight once we end up in the cave. It’s low tide, so the water doesn’t come all the way to the entrance. We have enough room to both sit down.

“Wow,” Royce exclaims next to me. He’s looking around, taking in the grotto with curious eyes. “This looks like some kind of pagan temple. Those decorations are beautiful.”

“Funny you should say that,” I mumble. “That’s what I thought when I first discovered it.”

He puts down the bag and I do the same with my gramophone.

“Well, why not?” he continues. “It’s in honor of the sea. At low tide, people can come in and leave offerings for the sea to take away when the water rises.”

“Offerings?” I gulp down a little lump in my throat. “You mean – people?” After all, that is what the Nixen want from us. Living souls, untainted by the cold and dimness of the sea.

“Maybe that is how they kept the Sirens at bay before we came here,” Royce theorizes. “Human sacrifice.”

“I don’t think so,” I protest. “Our history doesn’t mention that.” Nor did the book I inadvertently stole from the Skelta.

“Well, it would explain how the Skylgers survived here without the Brandaris Tower.”

“The Tower was here before the Anglians showed up,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

He cocks an eyebrow in a gesture so arrogant that it instantly puts my back up. “Right,” he draws out. “Who told you that lie?”

I can’t tell him. Suddenly, I see why Sytse wanted to keep me away from Royce. I’m way too prone to discussion and debate, but in this case I should keep my cards close to my chest. The last thing I want to do is reveal information previously only studied by the resistance. “Just – it’s an old tale,” I shrug grouchily. “Forget it.”

“Enna.” I am struck by the way my name on his lips sounds. It’s like it belongs to someone new. “I don’t want to bicker, you know. I hope that isn’t why you brought me here.”

I bite my lip. “Then what do you hope I brought you here for?” I whisper.

Royce smiles lazily, and my heart starts to race. “To spend some quality time together,” he mumbles, pulling me into his arms. “To listen to beautiful music...” His lips brush mine. “And to kiss that delicious mouth of yours...” He breathes into my ear. “And to hold you as close as you’ll let me,” he concludes, sending my pulse through the roof.

“Okay,” I stammer. “I think that sounds good.”

When he kisses me again, I open up to him like a flower hungry for the sun. I’ve wanted this since last night. To be fair, I’ve wanted this for a long time. Why waste time on discussing island history with him when I can have this? There’ll be plenty of time for that later, in all the days after this one. Royce is holding me like he never wants to let go. His hands roam my body and his tongue gently explores my mouth until we dissolve in an embrace that is no longer gentle and quivers with burning excitement.

For the first time in my life, I can shut out the Nixen’s call in this place without playing my music.

“I
can’t believe it.”

Dani’s voice is hoarse from shock. Her eyes blink up at me as she sags onto the nearest bench in the school yard. I cycled to school alone this morning, because I was horribly late. She decided to wait for me at the entrance, eager to tell me about her day in Osterend and to hear about my talk with Royce.

“Me neither,” I confess.

“He kissed you?” Dani whispers. “He could be arrested for that!
You
could be arrested for that.” She looks around, but no one is there. We both decided to skip first period so we wouldn’t have to stumble into Mrs. Atsma’s class ten minutes late.

“I don’t care,” I say, my voice rebellious.

“No, of course you don’t. That guy is sex on legs. Oh my God, Enna – you have a hot and secret boyfriend!” Suddenly, Dani is quietly squealing, and I can’t help but join in with a wide grin on my face.