Page 2 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)
The air is alive with tension. And Marrow uses it. He plays slowly and deliberately, pulling each note from his fiddle like he’s weaving a spell. The tempo builds again, but this time, it’s darker.
His words are unfamiliar, the melody strange and haunting, yet it fills the tavern. The audience is bewitched, caught in the swell of emotion in the room. It’s like he’s leading them through a dream, pulling them closer with every note.
When Marrow finishes, the song fades into an eerie quiet. The crowd’s applause is hesitant, unsure whether to clap or hold their breath.
Marrow stands, flourishing his bow up and around his head like a lasso, then wrapping across his stomach as he bends with his signature bow.
The crowd erupts with applause, and the servers make quick work of the break to refill mugs and collect plates.
“I hope you enjoyed the first performance of the Song of Starlight . Curated for this very day in dedication to my Prentice Teller, Akemi Nox.”
I blink rapidly and close my mouth. The tops of my cheeks warm as the crowd follows Marrow’s stare to me.
“Next, you will hear the Tale of the Breaking . Performed by Prentice Akemi herself.” He works his way down the stairs, holding onto the railing for support.
He must have left his cane in my room earlier from when he helped me through my panic attack.
I make a note to get it for him after our performance.
He squeezes my arm in reassurance as he passes.
I take a few deep breaths, climb the stairs, and turn to address the crowd.
“Thank you, Master Teller Marrow, for your dedication. I will forever hold it dearly.” I nod in his direction, a hand on my heart. Beneath my palm, a rapid beating commences.
“And now, as promised, I will Tell the Tale of the Breaking . A story to help us all remember the grave mistake of our ancestors.”
“Ey! Bring back the Master. We want to hear from him!” a man yells from somewhere in the crowd.
I keep my face still, not allowing the audience to see any trace of shock at the disruption. Row lifts the man from his seat and carries him away.
I clear my throat and begin.
“The Tale of the Breaking is new for some,
Old for others, and a warning to the young.
In this tale, we learn the truth of what is yet to come.
Should one day we find ourselves in a similar situation,
We will remember to act differently to save our sovereign nation.
It started long ago, in the age of—”
“Look at those honey-colored eyes!” another heckler interrupts. “Come sit on my lap and let the man tell the story.”
“Let her speak!” Nickel yells from the back of the room.
I fist the sides of my dress and suppress the bile rising in my throat, threatening to choke me. It takes every ounce of my acting skills to keep my face expressionless.
Bane takes care of the disturbance in a few quick seconds.
I lift my chin in defiance. I am a Prentice Teller. I deserve the same respect for my craft as any other. I won’t let them ruin my performance.
“It started long ago, in the age of humans,
When our land was riddled in plastics and metals,
We tore through the earth, and used its sweet water,
Until there was nothing to settle.
We battled each other with weapons so—”
“Show us your tits!” a man near the side calls, earning loud belly laughs from men around him.
My facade cracks.
The main hall erupts with shouting and yelling. Some are joining in with the man, others yelling for them to ‘stop’ and ‘shut up’ and ‘listen’. Row and Bane are still outside taking care of the previous hecklers.
My eyes sting with tears threatening to let loose. I look to Marrow.
“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly only I can hear. “Stand here and wait until I’m done. We will sort this out and make those men pay. Do not let them see, my dear. Do not let them see you hurting.”
He takes my place on the stage, crumpling his fists so hard his knuckles turn white.
“ SILENCE! ” Marrow commands. His voice at full volume swallows the room whole.
Everyone stops arguing at once.
“Such disrespect for my Prentice will not be tolerated. I will finish the Tale of the Breaking , but then we are done performing for the evening.”
A foolish patron lets out a large groan of displeasure. Marrow points directly at him, eyes flaring with rage.
The man clips his mouth shut and averts his gaze.
My lip quivers, so I pinch them together in a hard line as I stand next to the stage. A small, awful part of me predicted that something like this was going to happen tonight. That I wouldn’t be offered the same amount of respect as a male Teller.
Marrow takes my place on the stage, collects himself, and begins where I left off.
“We battled each other with weapons so great,
Until there was nothing left,
Our resources depleted, our homes gone.
The Breaking, the cleaving, the cleft—”
My vision is suddenly impaired with pellets of dark red. Screams rip through the room. A growling war horn rings in the distance. I blink rapidly and wipe my face. My hands are spotted with a thick, red liquid.
Blood.
No! No, no, NO!
Marrow is crumpled on the stage floor, legs twisting awkwardly in the wrong direction.
An arrow protrudes from his chest, the wax tip designed with two crossing axes the same gory color as the blood pooling rapidly beneath him.
The world goes silent.
My mentor.
My friend.
My only semblance of a father now stares lifelessly at the ceiling.