"Queens and commoners, princes and peasants, welcome to the party of the quincentury!"
For most people, receiving an invitation to the White King's Masquerade is an honor. Even attempting to attend is a chance to go down in history. But for Sol of M...
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By Haven's insistence we had a small tea in a shaded glade in the Undergarden. Over raisin cakes and chocklot, we filled the boys in on what they had missed while Ciel and Haven gave us some basic aquatic combat tips.
"But how were you not affected by the song," Prince Syrion asked Ciel, only mildly interested in the answer.
"I'm a man of many talents, what can I say?" he grinned in reply, refusing to say anymore.
After that we met with Nero and had a small class on enchanted objects. Golden apples and the Books of Betrayals. Angelica's ring and Triton's conch shell.
Nero described the objects with a twinkle in his eye that I would have sworn meant that he was lying. Except that fae can't lie.
Gazing at him, however, his espresso skin glowing in the evening light, I had no doubt that he could decieve us all as easily as Fyn could start a conversation.
The thought sent a chill racing through me that settled into my bones, following me as I trudged to bed, exhausted.
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I truly thought that after the day's battle with the sirens I would blackout as soon as my head hit the pillow but before I knew it I was walking through the courtyard, drinking in the crisp Centerfold air.
I circled the courtyard twice, avoiding the Isle of Semele tower both times before curiosity finally got the best of me.
I approached cautiously, the gentle tinkling of the water calming my frayed nerves, and saw Ciel's lean figure silhouetted against the glowing fountain, alone this time.
The fountain pulsed brightly and I slid forward as silently as I could before I was stopped in my tracks by his resonant voice.
"Hello, Sol."
"Room for one more?" I asked, offering up a smile, as I slipped onto the stone bench beside him.
"For you, Solida? Always," he replied, the familiar glimmer in his brown eye, but he didn't move further down the bench.
We stayed like that for a few moments, the moon shining above, our knees slightly touching.
"Today was quite a day, huh," he said, casually.
"Yeah, you were pretty great out there," I conceded, stretching my legs forward.
"Tell me something I don't know," he replied, the smirk audible in his words.
I rolled my eyes and laughed but realized something had been bugging me.
"But how were you not affected by the siren song, really?"
He froze for a moment and hung his head, sucking in and releasing a breath.
"Really," he began tentatively, turning to face me, his eyebrows furrowed, "I'm a siren."
"You are totally messing with me!"
"If you say so," he said, smiling and raising his hands in mock surrender.
"Come on!"
"Okay, okay," he said, lowering his hands and his voice conspiratorially, "I'm half a siren."
"Yeah, right," I scoffed.
"It's the truth," he insisted, solemnly.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"I can sing for you if you'd like?"
"Shut up!" I said, knocking my shoulder into his.
We settled into another comfortable silence. I gazed at the water, and one of the images seemed more real than the rest. It was a heavenly lady that looked... a lot like Haven actually.
"Do you know Haven?" I blurted out.
He cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?" he asked, his lilt heavy.
"I saw you with her at the fountain the other night," I said, wringing my hands, "I didn't want to interrupt or anything so I just left. I thought it was a dream, at first."
"Ah," he said, simply. "Haven and I, we once were." He said it like a complete sentence, his eyes starry and his gaze faraway.
Were what? I thought but instead I said, "Once?"
"Yes, a long time ago. It is over now," he replied, his gaze darkening slightly
"Good," I said, after a few seconds.
"Good?" he asked, his lips turned upwards as if slightly amused.
"Yeah," I said, not looking at him, and not even bothering to try to hide my smile.
"Good," I heard him repeat to himself quietly.
I must have fallen asleep because I woke up the next morning in my bed with Carya's screeching filling the room.
Sitting up I noticed a small vial of luminescent water, not larger than my thumb, attached to a string. I smiled to myself as I gently wore the necklace, tying it tightly as my gaze fell on a small folded note on the pillow.
In sprawling script it read Umi dem maetsas i dem sequora, solida.
And under, printed in block letters For the nights at the fountain, seashell.
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