How (Not) to Soothe a Siren (Cindy Eller Book 9) by Elizabeth A Reeves Page B

faithful, tried and true mount? Had he gone mad?
    Then I saw them.
    My lopsided world balanced out again. Everything askew was righted.
    Breathing became possible, even desirable.
    Whisper was trotting towards us, the sunlight glistening against the gold of her coat, until she looked like she had been cast out of gold. A golden horse could never be as alive as Whisper, however. She moved easily up the hill towards us, her gait smooth enough not to jar her passengers.
    Timothy and Asher smiled as they rode the last few steps to join me and the rest of the company. Asher was tucked partway under Timothy’s chin. He let out a gleefully garbled yelp, wiggling with all his might.
    Timothy gave me a reassuring smile, the crooked smile that made his dimples appear, even on the scarred side of his face. The same smile that had caught my attention, when we’d first met.
    “What happened?” I cried, even as Gealbhan scooted sideways, allowing me to throw my arms around my family. My voice cracked. I could feel there was only the thinnest veneer keeping myself together.
    Timothy shook his head, his expression turning grim. “The siren’s song lured us away,” he said. “There was no way to resist. If it hadn’t been for Whisper, I don’t know where we would be now. Once she realized what was happening, she bolted in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could take her. It was all I could do to hold onto Asher, and let her take control.” He reached down to stroke Whisper’s sweat-soaked neck. “I have no doubts that she saved us. We would have gone on our own accord—that’s what bothers me the most. I didn’t even try to fight the compulsion.”
    I squeezed his arm. I knew that he would have fought with all his might, if possible. That he hadn’t been able to shake off the siren’s song said just how strong the Magic had been. Timothy’s Magic was a match to my own. If he couldn’t fight, I wouldn’t have been, either.
    “True evil takes away our freedom under the guise of giving us exactly what we want,” Merlin said, his serious tone at odds with his ridiculous appearance. “They make us hand over our own free will, and, once it is gone, there is no way to recapture it.”
    My mother nodded at his words. “Anything that takes away our ability to make our own choices is by nature bad,” she agreed. “I guess we have Whisper to thank for keeping a clear head in the midst of danger.” She offered the golden horse a regal half-bow.
    If horses could blush, Whisper would have turned hot pink. As it was, she closed her eyes and dropped her head slightly, her long eyelashes fanning across her cheeks. She sighed contentedly.
    “When we get home,” I told her, “I am going to give you anything and everything that you want—even if you want an apple of immortality every day.” I scratched her withers, where horses liked scratched the best. “Thank you. Thank you for giving my family back to me.”
    Gealbhan tossed his head and snorted, I thought in agreement.
    “Thank you, too,” I murmured to him. “Thanks for trying to tell me that everything was OK.”
    Now that the danger was gone, now that my family was safe, now that I could think clearly again… I fell apart.
    “Hey, hey,” Timothy crooned, sliding off Whisper’s back so he could help me down from Gealbhan. He held my shaking body closely. “We’re OK. Not a hair on our heads has been harmed.”
    “I know,” I gasped. “It’s just—relief, I guess.” I clung to him, with Asher snuggled in the middle of our arms. Our son reached out and grabbed at a wisp of my hair, completely oblivious to what had just happened, or almost happened.
    The weight of Timothy’s arms around me was grounding. He anchored me. His voice in my ear, the scent of him in my nostrils… here was my safe place. Everything was OK. Whatever could have happened hadn’t.
    I set my teeth. My hands curled into fists.
    The siren had gone too far. In trying to take my