Of course, I didn’t realize I was doing it at the time. But that didn’t matter. My former friends were more than happy to describe my odd behavior to anyone who would listen.
Taking a seat on a boulder, I hugged my knees to my chest and reminded myself to stop with the self-pity already. It wasn’t becoming, and I was better than that. There was nothing to be done about how others saw me, but I could choose to not let their opinions bother me.
As I soaked up the unseasonably warm day, I didn’t realize a rider approached until he was right upon me. I turned my head to find a young man with black hair and a rakish smile dismounting a royal steed.
“Flynn!” My mood lifted in an instant, and I ran to him, throwing my arms around his chest.
He chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to squeeze me to death.”
“I’m sorry.” I dropped my arms and backed up a few paces as heat infused my cheeks. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you.”
His smile faltered. “No, I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his thick hair. “Things aren’t going so well, and I didn’t want to burden you.”
My stomach tightened with dread. Flynn wasn’t the type to worry for no reason. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever seeing him this serious before. He was the youngest brother—the prankster. Something dire must have happened for him to be this upset.
I took his hands in mine. “You know you can tell me anything.”
His dark, almost black, eyes softened. “I know, Gen, and I’ve missed you too.”
I led him over to my boulder, and we both sat. “What’s going on?”
“I wish I knew,” he replied, staring off into the distance.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed and returned his gaze to me. “It’s my father. We think he’s ill, but none of the healers can fix it or even find anything wrong with him.”
I gasped. The king, ill? That wasn’t supposed to be possible. At least, not without the involvement of dark magic. The kind that legends were made of.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He squeezed the hand that was still in his. “Me either. Killian has been in crown prince mode, demanding answers from anyone who will speak to him. Ronan is barely speaking. And, me?” He released a derisive laugh. “I’ve been entertaining everyone to distract them. But it’s not working anymore. Not even on me.”
Tears gathered in my eyes. I hated seeing him like this. “I’m so sorry, Flynn. I wish there was something I could do.”
He gave me a soft smile. “I know. But being here with you is helping.”
His words warmed my heart, and I tried not to read too much into them. Flynn saw me as his sweet little friend. That was it.
I was okay with that...I had to be. Being his—and his brothers’—friend was the only way to remain in their lives. And I would never do anything to jeopardize my place there.
He turned over my hand and slipped his fingers through mine. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“Even though I’m a banshee?”
“Who cares? It’s not like you’re a far darrig.” He shuddered. “They’re just creepy.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m glad you don’t think I’m creepy.”
Flynn lifted the hand not intertwined with mine to my cheek. “Never, Gen. You’re beautiful.”
My heart stuttered to a stop as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine.
I awoke with a start and lifted my fingers to my mouth. That dream...it had felt so real. I could have sworn I was actually reliving those precious minutes with Flynn by the loch. Except for the kiss. That part had never happened. Clearly, my overactive imagination had decided to add in that detail.
But Flynn had told me I was beautiful, and I’d eaten up the compliment like the most decadent chocolate mousse. I’d held the moment close, cherishing it...until he’d found me by a hawthorn tree weeks later and decided, on the spot, I was at fault for killing his father.
As always, that memory overshadowed all the rest, and the warm feelings from my dream disappeared in an instant. I tried to sit up but found that I didn’t have the strength. What the heck?
It was then that I realized I wasn’t in my cell. Instead, I was in a bed in the infirmary, my ankles shackled to the frame. Peering from side to side, I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw that I was alone. The last thing I needed was to face a ghoulish orderly first thing in the morning.
If it was even morning. It was impossible to tell, what with the low lighting that failed to indicate the time one way or the other.
Forcing my distracted thoughts into something resembling focus, I attempted to recall what had happened. I remembered lying on my side, writing on the wall with my finger. After that...nothing.
I wiped at the grit in the corners of my eyes and froze when I felt the evidence of dried tears. There was only one thing that had ever made me cry like that—a lament.
Panic seized me. Was that what had happened? After more than a year, was it even possible?
The more I tried to remember the moments before I’d fallen asleep, the less I saw. My stomach sank. That was a telltale sign of a lament. No amount of effort on my part would bring back the time surrounding a song.
Hearing the distinctive sound of heels clicking on tile, I turned my head and found the doctor walking toward me, a clipboard in hand. Her hips swayed, and she tossed her long, red hair over her shoulder as she gave me a malicious smile.
“You’re finally awake, I see.”
What happened?
As soon as I thought the question, as had become my habit, it occurred to me that I didn’t feel the collar around my neck. I reached up, and...I was right. It was missing.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, you can speak. Might as well.”
“What happened?” The words came out so hoarse, my suspicions were immediately confirmed—I had lamented. It was practically undeniable, at this point.
“Well, I can’t say for sure.” She ran a finger over the collar, which was sitting on a table next to the bed. “This little beauty sends me an alert every time you speak, and you sure had a lot to say early this morning.”
“I don’t remember,” I croaked, sounding more like a frog than a woman.
“So you say.” Brina crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Personally, I think you’re full of shit.”
I clamped my mouth shut, instinctively knowing that arguing with her wouldn’t end well for me.
When I didn’t respond, she sat on the bed across from me and glanced down at her clipboard. “Then again, you were in excruciating pain for more than two minutes. I can’t imagine that you would do that to yourself on purpose. Which begs the question, why do it at all?”
“I don’t have any control over my laments.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “So, you do remember.”
“No, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Banshees are such peculiar creatures,” she said, studying me like an ant under her microscope. I was tempted to ask her what kind of fae she was, but that was considered rude where I came from. “You look like a sweet, innocent little virgin, but you have the voice of a killer. Are you a virgin? I’ve always wanted to know if that rumor about banshees was true.”