The Forgotten Crown (2019) Book 1 of The Broken Crown Series

10. Moonsong

The world changed in a matter of days. Not for everyone though, no this new world, this new madness was just for Sirena. Nightmares and phantasms crowded her evenings until she could no longer discern fact from fiction. Visions of people known and unknown clawed through her tortured mind. A dagger in her belly and she woke screaming, a dying, burning boy and she woke sobbing, golden eyes and an iron crown and she woke choking. After the first few nights, people quit coming to check on her. Night terrors they called it.

Tingling sensations coursed through Sirena's limbs, delighting her at times and yet terrifying her constantly. Raw energy buzzed about in bursts and swirls, crawling across her flesh like a live thing. Her clothes seemed glued to her skin, sparking at every little movement. Her irritation grew to hysteria at the clinginess of everything around her. Itchy and raw, the world seemed to grow smaller to the point of madness. Just when the feeling became unbearable, it would explode in a heady and intoxicating sense of power. The power made her feel strong and capable; the very air an elixir of freedom and supremacy.

Over and over this cycle went in a constant whirlwind of torment and euphoria. Head aching, skin crawling and practically shuddering with pent up energy, Sirena wondered that she might simply be stark raving mad.

A week of attempting to hold the insanity inside, of pretending everything was as it should be, had left her exhausted and irritable. The only respite to be found came to her in the garden. Something about the beautiful, natural setting seemed to be as a soothing balm.

It was in one such moment she found the courage to ask Lord Fox to employ her. His answer delighted her of course, while presenting a new problem. Where had the light that struck her attacker come from? What was the intense power she could feel building inside? Why was her mother's necklace suddenly glowing again? Most importantly, how was she to keep it a secret? Magic users were a feared and reviled lot, she was loathe to be counted among the ranks of such a hated sect. No, this was a secret she would take to her grave.

The startling physical change to her eyes had completely baffled Birgit and frightened several of the manor staff. Quickly averted eyes and muttered wards against black luck embarrassed her to no end. Whispered stories followed her, forest spirits stealing her away in the night and replacing her with a Changeling. Unable to hide the obvious transformation, Sirena chose to sequester herself from the staff as much as possible. She volunteered for solitary tasks and took her meals alone, all of her free time either spent in her room or out of doors. That she had 'free time' was a miracle in and of itself.

To their credit, Jarsha and Lord Fox seemed to have no reaction at all, choosing it seemed, to honor her feigned ignorance. Sadness filled her at the thought of what Elijah would think of her now. She couldn't meet him as she had promised, having no leave to venture to Duath. Were the option even available, he had simply to take one look at her. One look and he would never speak to her again. She could not bear to think of the grief she had surely brought upon her sisters. What if they thought she left without them? Either they believed her dead or guilty of betrayal. Sirena could not decide which was worse.

A fortnight found Sirena without the use of a cane, managing each day with a slight limp. With her returned mobility a peculiar practice within the household soon presented itself. Though discreet, there were certain areas of the manor the staff seemed to avoid at specific times of the day. Constantly shuffled about, she observed several nameless and faceless people scurrying through the many winding stone passages. More than a little puzzled, she wondered at their strange behavior and the mysterious guests that seemed to float to and from the grand house. Try as she might however, Sirena could discern naught but their presence. Doors remained locked, conversations were carried in hushed tones, even errant gazes were discouraged by heavy cloaks and cowls despite the arrival of summer.