Page 95

Chapter 24

Bash kisses my cheek. “You’re going to do great. The lyrics are all here.” He flips through some sheets on a stand. “We’re starting with this one. You’ve heard it before, right?”

I glance over the words. “Once.”

My heart leaps to my throat when I glance at the audience that keeps growing bigger. Why did Halen think this was a good idea? Is this payback for not taking her advice to rest? I don’t sing, period. Ever. Not even in the shower. Well, not that I’ve ever been able to shower because of my tail, but I don’t. I could shatter glass.

I turn back to Bash. “This was a bad idea. I really shouldn’t do this.”

He squeezes my hand. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“And you give me too much.”

“Want to turn that into a wager?” He gives me a crooked smile.

I take a deep breath. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Bahari starts a soft beat on the drums. Then the others join in, blending all the instruments perfectly. My hands shake. If only I had something to play to distract myself.

Bash belts out some lyrics, his voice soothing me. I start to relax until I remember that I have to sing in a few moments. I glance at the sheet. My first line is coming closer, closer.

He nudges me. My stomach lurches. I’m going to lose my breakfast all over the stage—and maybe on him.

Bash nudges me again. I swallow, then sing my first line. At least his voice and the music drown me out. Nobody’ll hear how awful I am.

He pulls the mic up to my mouth. So much for no one hearing me.

Halen covers her mouth, her eyes wide.

I’m that bad? Not even my best friend can muster some fake enthusiasm?

Thankfully a vocal break comes quickly. Bash whispers, “You’re doing fantastic!”

At least he’s willing to tell me what I need to hear, even though before long the entire academy will be talking about how I sound like a mortally-sick sea lion. Maybe that’ll be better than everyone talking about my sparring match with Earwig.

I take another deep breath and prepare for my next line. Halen still has her hands over her mouth. I’m mortifying her, not to mention myself.

Bash is singing like a star, and I’m ruining it. At least this is only a practice, not a concert where people actually paid money.

My next line is coming. Three … two … one. Shaking, I sing it out. He wanted me to take Neva’s place, so I may as well give it my all. If nothing else, at least he’ll never ask me to do this again. May as well enjoy it now.

He turns to me, holding my gaze, and seeming to smile though singing. He pulls me close and we belt out the lyrics into the same mic. Thankfully, he sounds so good it seems to be covering up for how terrible I sound. The music and our voices intensify until the song ends.

Everyone watching leaps up from the floor, applauding. Some whistle. At least I didn’t totally ruin it.

Bash leans toward my ear. I brace myself for his offer to let me watch for the rest of the songs.

He whispers, “Are you trying to replace Neva? You’ve been holding out on me!”

I give him a double-take. “What?”

“Your voice … it’s like the mythological sirens.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean an emergency siren?”

He presses his lips on mine, then turns to the audience and lifts my hand high into the air. “Ladies and gents, I give you the amazing singing princess, Marra Ayers!”

The clapping and whistling grow louder.