a firm line for a moment. “As you no doubt know, it becomes more complicated now. How does one assess the depth of love he or she has for another? What scale can be used to determine if a male will hear the call tomorrow night or three nights hence?”
Kallen is the one to respond. “The impossibility of such a thing will force us to take necessary but potentially dangerous measures.” He glances at Dagda. “We are looking at the majority of the male population needing to be put to sleep at dusk tomorrow.”
“Leaving our lands vulnerable,” Dagda growls.
I frown at the two of them. “Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” When they both look at me like I’m stupid, I glare at them and continue. “Half the population will still be wide awake come dusk tomorrow. Why do you think it has to be the males who defend the lands? Can’t female Fairies do just as good of a job?”
Affronted by my question, Dagda practically growls, “I expect every Fairy to fight if ever it comes to war. Gender is not a consideration in that regard.” Good to know. “That does not change the fact that the number of people available to fight will have been cut in half.”
“Xandra is still relatively new to our culture,” Tana says, her condescending words like metal bristles across my eyeballs. “She is still learning the intricacies.”
I know where she can shove her intricacies. Before I can tell her where, Kallen says, “The Merpeople are well aware of Xandra’s history. Getting back to the topic at hand, what word did you leave with your people?” It’s Tana’s turn to bristle. Good.
Arie sighs. “That depends on whether or not the Siren call is heard in our realm this evening. If it is not, no action must be taken. If it is, then we must ask all of our males to submit themselves to the spell, as well.”
Sweat begins to accumulate on my brow. “The entire male population of your realm as well as all the Fairies from here? That’s a big spell.” I drew magic from Kallen and others when I put the Centaurs and Sasquatch to sleep. It seems too dangerous to do that now. It could weaken them to a point of vulnerability. It doesn’t matter, though. I think my head is going to explode from the pressure long before tomorrow night.
“I believe in you,” Kallen tells me, all seriousness in his expression and voice.
I half grimace, half smile. “I know you do.” It’s me I’m worried about.
Dagda stands up. “Did you hear that?”
All I heard was the whining going on in my head. “No.”
Kallen is on instant alert. “What did you hear?”
Dagda strides to the window and throws it open. The Siren song floats into the room. But that’s not the only thing which comes in. A winged scroll follows the words of the song. When it is through the window, it falls at Dagda’s feet. He bends down to pick it up and then snatches his hand back. “Damn it,” he growls. He closes the window and then nudges the scroll with the toe of his shoe. “I assume this is from the Sirens. It is not addressed to me so I cannot touch it.”
Confused, I ask, “Why not?”
“The Sirens like to spell their messages so if anyone touches it other than the intended party, he or she will be burned,” Kallen explains.
“Then who is it for?” I ask, dreading the answer.
Turns out, I dreaded it for the wrong reason. Dagda glares at the offending scroll. From his expression, it’s pretty easy to determine what he wants to do with the nasty thing. “It is for Kallen.”
My heart is pounding against my ribs and I’m convinced I’m going to suffer internal bruising from it beating so hard. “Why would the Sirens send Kallen a message?”
“I had better find out.” Kallen crosses the room and picks up the scroll. He doesn’t flinch like Dagda did. He unrolls it and reads over it silently. He carefully rolls it back up and
Kallen is the one to respond. “The impossibility of such a thing will force us to take necessary but potentially dangerous measures.” He glances at Dagda. “We are looking at the majority of the male population needing to be put to sleep at dusk tomorrow.”
“Leaving our lands vulnerable,” Dagda growls.
I frown at the two of them. “Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” When they both look at me like I’m stupid, I glare at them and continue. “Half the population will still be wide awake come dusk tomorrow. Why do you think it has to be the males who defend the lands? Can’t female Fairies do just as good of a job?”
Affronted by my question, Dagda practically growls, “I expect every Fairy to fight if ever it comes to war. Gender is not a consideration in that regard.” Good to know. “That does not change the fact that the number of people available to fight will have been cut in half.”
“Xandra is still relatively new to our culture,” Tana says, her condescending words like metal bristles across my eyeballs. “She is still learning the intricacies.”
I know where she can shove her intricacies. Before I can tell her where, Kallen says, “The Merpeople are well aware of Xandra’s history. Getting back to the topic at hand, what word did you leave with your people?” It’s Tana’s turn to bristle. Good.
Arie sighs. “That depends on whether or not the Siren call is heard in our realm this evening. If it is not, no action must be taken. If it is, then we must ask all of our males to submit themselves to the spell, as well.”
Sweat begins to accumulate on my brow. “The entire male population of your realm as well as all the Fairies from here? That’s a big spell.” I drew magic from Kallen and others when I put the Centaurs and Sasquatch to sleep. It seems too dangerous to do that now. It could weaken them to a point of vulnerability. It doesn’t matter, though. I think my head is going to explode from the pressure long before tomorrow night.
“I believe in you,” Kallen tells me, all seriousness in his expression and voice.
I half grimace, half smile. “I know you do.” It’s me I’m worried about.
Dagda stands up. “Did you hear that?”
All I heard was the whining going on in my head. “No.”
Kallen is on instant alert. “What did you hear?”
Dagda strides to the window and throws it open. The Siren song floats into the room. But that’s not the only thing which comes in. A winged scroll follows the words of the song. When it is through the window, it falls at Dagda’s feet. He bends down to pick it up and then snatches his hand back. “Damn it,” he growls. He closes the window and then nudges the scroll with the toe of his shoe. “I assume this is from the Sirens. It is not addressed to me so I cannot touch it.”
Confused, I ask, “Why not?”
“The Sirens like to spell their messages so if anyone touches it other than the intended party, he or she will be burned,” Kallen explains.
“Then who is it for?” I ask, dreading the answer.
Turns out, I dreaded it for the wrong reason. Dagda glares at the offending scroll. From his expression, it’s pretty easy to determine what he wants to do with the nasty thing. “It is for Kallen.”
My heart is pounding against my ribs and I’m convinced I’m going to suffer internal bruising from it beating so hard. “Why would the Sirens send Kallen a message?”
“I had better find out.” Kallen crosses the room and picks up the scroll. He doesn’t flinch like Dagda did. He unrolls it and reads over it silently. He carefully rolls it back up and
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