Page 19 of Sing Me Awake (Bonded to the Gods #1)
nineteen
Dove
I n the wake of my solemn mood, I find myself sitting at a table with one of the king’s dyre wolves and a long-forgotten fae male—a prince, my bonded—the old guardians of Haven and the true disciples of the Goddess.
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would end up here, at the manor housing Haven’s tyrant king.
Once he set us all up with cups of tea and bread rolls, Gideon seemed quite flippant in spilling the secrets of the kingdom. According to him, the control of the dyre wolves—him and his brother, Fenrir—are directly linked to the king’s bloodline, and there’s no way to stop the connection other than death or its creator.
“Will Fenrir be on board with the deaths of the king and prince?” The only subject he seems unwilling to discuss freely is his brother.
“The blood bond compels us to follow direct orders from the king and his blood. We cannot physically harm him, or we would’ve slain his ancestors centuries ago,” Gideon states nonchalantly, taking a sip of his tea while keeping his furrowed eyes firmly on my own.
“Are you also compelled to protect the king from imminent threats?” Rivern finally asks, flicking his gaze between me and Gideon, finally landing on me.
Through the bond, I can feel Rivern’s overall dislike of the wolf and his constant attention on me. Even with Rivern’s question, Gideon does not look away, leaving me to squirm in my seat.
“Neither of you are seen as an imminent threat to the king or the prince. If I wanted you dead, you would be among the land of souls within movements.” He finally swings his gaze around to Rivern, and the fae glares back.
The small annoyance from my bonded brings a smile to my face. I’m not the only one squirming under Gideon’s stare.
Rivern turns to me, showcasing his dimples. “Care to share, Little Dove?”
I mumble a “ no ” and turn to glance at the stoic wolf under my lashes.
“You still haven’t answered my question about your brother,” I say.
His sharp fingers tap along the wooden table, making tingles race down my arms. I grip my mug, waiting for his response.
“My brother is more wolf than man.” He turns away from me and eyes the flames of the furnace. “I fear in his tedium, he is leaning on his wolf too much. He is not as forgiving. Fenrir currently wards the king.”
So many questions linger on the tip of my tongue with all this new information, but I need to understand one thing. “Why have you been so kind to me? I killed the queen.” The last words slip out without thought to the other person in the room.
Rivern stiffens beside me. “You what?” His shock rings around the room.
I glare at him to shut up. Gideon grunts, almost chuckling, “Keep up, fae. Your little Dove is vicious when she wants to be.”
I sense Rivern about to unleash on the wolf, so I grab his tensing hand from the tabletop, bringing it to rest on my thigh, covered by my own.
With that simple touch, the bond is happy, and he visibly relaxes. This bond thing will definitely take some getting used to.
I’ve never been so physical with anyone before—well, willingly. At that thought, Argus roars, setting my coals alight, and anger replaces the melancholy that is washing through my veins like an icy trough.
When I look up, both males are looking intently at me. Violet and amber swirl and clash in my mind, filling me with relief at my unease.
“Like recognises like,” Gideon growls. I incline my head, not understanding his meaning, and he elaborates. “Just because you are not a warrior does not mean you have not tasted war. Memories haunt you just the same.”
He’s talking about the past—before the temple—and I choke. My life before I was dedicated to the Goddess was all survival, a constant battle between life and death. A life where I bear both physical wounds and lacerations, long buried in a cave guarded by a dragon created by the little girl who had to grow up too fast.
Rivern grips my thigh, and I squeeze his hand, sucking the small luxury down like a desperate drunk. When have I ever received pure comfort from another being, unselfishly, purely because they don’t want to see me hurt?
Not since her .
No—I do not want to think of her right now. With the current ups and downs of my emotions, Wren will not talk to me. This has been the longest we have gone without talking since my first encounter with Cardinal.
The Wren of my childhood only sought joy and avoided desolation and anger like the plague. I couldn’t blame her, not when our beginnings were a never-ending stormy sea until it all ended. Until she met her end.
“You don’t seem more wolf than man,” I say to the concerned wolf in front of me. I do not want to be seen as weak by these men, but I can’t change my circumstances or what I’ve faced. All I can do is continue to fight and make a better Haven for the hungry children lining the steps of the manor house.
“It’s a choice, so to speak.” He stretches out his body, making the muscles ripple through his neck. This wolf has muscles everywhere.
“And you chose to retain your humanity?”
“Yes,” Gideon continues to answer my questions without complaint. “And right now, it seems, a girl who sings to the Goddess has finally given me something to scratch my head over.”
Rivern interrupts, “You sing to the Goddess?”
Gideon gives a huff at Rivern’s lack of knowledge when it comes to me, his bonded.
Turning slightly in the chair to face him, the bond thrums strong. “Yes, I learnt her song from the old fae tomes in the temple library. Something—maybe the Goddess—drew me to learn. I thought…”
Rivern’s eyes are wide with wonder like this is the first rhythm he has truly seen me. “What?” he asks.
“I thought it would bring back the land. Something is wrong. Our greenhouses barely produce enough to feed all the workers and priestesses within the temple. Who knows about the villagers and where they are getting food. The vines and trees have been shrivelling. I found the books, and they spoke of a ritual. A song, a dedication towards the Mother Goddess. Some notes are hard to reach, I suspect, because I’m not fae, but I sang it to her and...” I stop my rambling, and Rivern’s mouth is gaping open.
Then his face splits into the broadest teeth-showcasing grin. “My bonded sings the Goddess’s song, the lost song of Oona?”
“Arrr, yes?” As a fae, I don’t know why he finds this so impressive, considering they probably sing it all the time in Terra.
“You don’t understand?” he continues in awed wonder.
“No?” I question, confused.
“We lost it. With the loss of our library, the song of reverence was lost centuries ago. I remember my grandmother singing the Goddess’s song when I was a baby, but even that was broken, missing words and sounds. With the loss of Haven, we lost the ancient lyrics and, eventually, her song.”
Unsure how to handle this new level of devotion, I slip my hand from his and clasp mine together on top of the table. The bond is one thing, but the way he currently looks at me sets off alarm bells. I’m not his saviour, I can barely save myself. I’m just a girl who has experienced suffering no one else should have to face.
“When?” Rivern’s hand stays firm on my thigh.
“When what?” I reply.
“When did you learn her song?” He gazes deeply into my eyes, and I cannot help but be transfixed.
“A few rotations ago, a book dropped at my feet, and everything within my body told me I needed to see what it contained. It was written in a language I didn’t understand at the time, but was similar enough in some sounds to our own that I eventually figured it out. In it held the words to her song.”
“The ancient language?” Rivern questions.
“I suppose,” I say, wringing my hands on the table.
As my eyes wander over to Gideon, he seems impassive to my story, like the whole thing is highly plausible even though it seems implausible to my own ears. However, I guess, as an immortal being, he has heard and witnessed better stories than mine.
“Last turn was the first rhythm I sang it to her,” I continue.
“Hmmm.” The wolf on the opposite side of the table hums, and Rivern, in his impatience to know more, snaps at him to share with the group. “The full moon?” Gideon elaborates.
I nod, and he continues, “Did you see the stars showering down from the sky?” Looking at Rivern, he seems just as confused as I do. “I’ll take that as a no. In some stories, it is said that when the stars fall, a God is falling. It represents that even the Gods aren’t infallible, and death always follows birth. ”
Silence envelops the small room. “Curious. I remember my grandmother sharing a similar story.”
Two sets of eyes burn into me as I make myself busy pulling apart the last of my bread. “Maybe our little songbird is more than she seems,” Gideon states in his roughened, gravelly voice.
My reaction to him can’t be stopped as I say, “I am nothing but an orphan who sought refuge in the temple when my family parted the veil. There’s nothing special about me other than I’ve had to survive like those children starving on your king’s manor steps.” Frustration courses through my body at the thought of the little faces I saw, drawn and dirty. “What’s going on? I saw you dropping food?”
The bond tenses, and Rivern squeezes my thigh.
“Yes, I was dropping them food. As you probably suspect, the farms around the village have perished.” Far from surprising, but I want to know why he’s keeping his people in the dark . “The king has deemed families who mill the land at fault, saying the Goddess is unhappy with their work, so he turned them out of the fields, banishing them. They banded together and marched through the village, making camp on the king’s steps several turns ago. The king does not want to lose the people’s trust, so he has been waiting for the other villagers to turn on the farmers, spreading rumours about them poisoning the land and claiming they serve the darkness. Slowly but surely, the people on the steps are losing their battle. Their only option is to set forth into the mountains.”
Hearing the corruption from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, lights my coals asunder. How can the king do that to his own people? He is no king of mine.
“Surely the people would not be so blind-sighted?" Rivern looks perplexed by this news.
“The people only know one way—the way of the king and his ruling family before. Every century since the humans took over Haven, the land has declined. The king and his ancestors are to blame for their lack of respect for this land. The people only follow what they know, whatever keeps them safe and comfortable.”
Safe and comfortable are two things I’ve always aimed for in my life but were never freely given. Sitting with these two males, though, I feel it.
“We need to help those people,” Rivern says out of nowhere, my head swivelling around to meet his compassion. His face is pensive as I watch his swirling lines dance over his skin, his fingers tapping on my thigh. “Bring them to Terra.”
“The fae would allow humans in Terra?” The surprise in my voice is unmistakable, and a sheepish expression replaces Rivern’s thoughtful one.
“I’m the prince, and I have some sway over the council elders. If we explain that these people were cast out, it is within the Goddess’s will to offer sanctuary.” Seeing my confused face, he continues. “I don’t know what your stories state, but we fae are generally a kind and merciful people.”
“Maybe we could get the people out first and then come back for the king and Castor?”
I mull my words over. I would love to see the king go up in flames along with his son, but to what end? Will we have to fight Gideon and Fenrir? What about the villagers who bow at his feet? Would the fae help in reclaiming Haven? Just because Rivern is willing to take in villagers without a home doesn’t mean he’s willing to fight with me.
What am I even fighting for? I wish you would answer me.
“Little Dove.” Rivern jiggles my leg.
“Sorry,” I say, my eyes finding the shifter who watches me with interest from his chair, stroking his beard. “What do you think, Gideon?”
He sits up in his chair, leaning his elbows on the table. “I think any plan you have of killing the king and Castor right now is foolish, but getting the people to follow you to Terra is doable.”
“But what about any future plans I have to kill the king?”
He growls, “I don’t want to know about it.”
“Okay.” We give each other one last long look. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t piece together all the parts.
“You will need to leave before sunrise, though. The king has requested you be brought before him after he eats his morning meal. That’s my only instruction, so you better be long gone before he asks for your head on a platter.”
I gulp, and Rivern stands beside me, his chair tumbling backwards. “Your king is not killing my bonded.”
“If that is the case, I suggest you both be on your way.”