Minstrel's Serenade. Aubrie Dionne

his right arm to grab his sword. The music turned dissonant, tones pushing against themselves to delve deep inside her heart and make her ache for something unreachable. Bron fought against it, scrambling for the hilt. The dissonance rose and then resolved like a flower opening its petals, and he stumbled, falling to his knees.

      The leader flicked back his hood with long, thin fingers. Swirly, deer-brown hair cascaded around his ears. He stepped up to Bron and his voice flowed like warm honey. “What brings you here?”

      Bron grumbled and Danika spoke up before her bodyguard muttered something that would get them both in trouble. “We seek an alternate route. Wyverns swarm above the road to my castle.”

      “Your castle?” The minstrel raised a hand and the men singing behind him softened to a low hum. Danika gave Bron a stern look and he bowed his head, allowing her to take the lead.

      She rose, dusting off her hands. “Yes. I am Princess Danika Rubystone, daughter of the late King Artemus Rubystone, chosen ruler of the people of Ebonvale.”

      The minstrel blinked and took in a sharp breath before bowing low. “Princess Danika, my apologies. Why haven’t you answered any of my letters?”

      Bron gave her a questioning furrow of eyebrows, and Danika almost swallowed her tongue. “You’re Valorian, Prince of the House of Song?”

      He lifted his head, wavy hair falling back to reveal sleek cheekbones. The sharp edges on his nose and chin could have cut through silk. “I am.”

      Burrow’s Bucket! Her skin heated. Maybe if she’d known how handsome he was, she would have written a reply.

      “Come, let us take you to the House of Song. Night approaches, and the fire wyverns will no doubt rule the sky until dawn.” Every word he spoke resonated like a lyrical poem.

      Bron rose to his feet. He stood a head taller than the minstrels, looking like an ogre amongst fairies. “That’s not necessary. I’m capable of transporting the princess home safely.”

      “Bron, wait.” Danika had snubbed the minstrels for too long, bent on deferring their offers to unite kingdoms. She’d learned stubbornness and independence from her father, but dire times called for unexpected measures. These song spinners might prove a useful ally. High time to take them up on at least one offer. Her heart tore to disappoint Bron, but she had a kingdom to think about and a hungry little boy in the backseat.

      “I don’t question your abilities, Bron, but Valorian and I have some catching up to do.” She bowed to Valorian. “If you’d be so kind as to awaken my horses?”

      He smiled as if deeply pleased. “Certainly.”

      Valorian waved his hand and the pulse of music quickened into a jig. The men behind him strummed their lutes in undulating rhythms. The horses rose and Danika slipped into her carriage. Bron cursed under his breath. Would he disobey? Her heart hung in between beats until the carriage rocked as he climbed aboard.

      Moments later, the horses whinnied and the carriage tugged forward into the burgeoning night. What had she gotten herself into?

      “Are we there?” The boy rubbed his eyes, righting himself on the velvety seat.

      “We’ve taken a detour.” He’d probably squiggle away if she wrapped her arms around him. She couldn’t imagine who he’d lost in the attack and she knew not to ask.

      He gazed out the carriage window and his eyes widened. “Where are we going?”

      “To the House of Song.” She smiled, trying to get his mind off the horrors of the day. “You’re one lucky little boy. Not everyone from Ebonvale gets to see the House of Song.” Although she didn’t mention it, luck had favored him more than once. He’d survived the fire wyverns’ wrath. Was it because of the breastplate? Danika pursed her lips. Pushing him so soon after the tragedy was cruel. She’d let him be a boy again before bombarding him with questions.

      He shrugged and remained silent. Like any boy, he was hard to impress.

      “I’m Danika.” She extended her hand.

      “I know.” The boy stared at her ivory skin and flaxen hair, traits her mother had brought to their kingdom from the south. He didn’t move. “I’ve seen you in the parades.”

      “And you are?”

      He murmured the name, “Nip.”

      “Nip?” She’d try not to judge. “What an interesting name for a boy.” It sounded as if he’d pinch her arms when she looked away.

      Nip sniffed. “Ma named me after the cold--she had me in a blizzard.”

      His mother. Probably dead.

      Her eyes stung with unleashed tears. Maybe if she’d attacked the wyverns after her father passed away, the boy’s village would still be standing, and he’d be cooking with his Ma right now. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

      He nodded but made no further comments. Endless hurt shone in his brown eyes, as if he hid within himself. Even a princess’ offerings couldn’t help. She couldn’t reach out and make the horrors go away. Nothing would bring back what he’d lost.

      She’d make those worms pay, even if gleaning revenge meant allying with the House of Song.

      Danika squeezed her palms until her muscles ached. She would find a way to rid their infestation, even if it meant taking a boat to Scalehaven Isle herself and sinking the entire island chain. The wyverns were vermin, just like the rats in the wheat sheds and the crop-eating locusts. Except, if Bron’s wisdom rang true, these pests had a mind of their own. The wyverns’ possible sentience frightened her more than their fire breath or pin-sharp teeth.

      Her thoughts wandered to dark places until the boy spoke again.

      “Thank you for saving me, Danika.”

      “’Twas the least I could do. Remember, you saved me, too.”

      The carriage followed a winding road, crawling up a steep embankment. Moss brushed against the walls as if they rode through an old man’s beard. Nip stuck his arm out and tugged on a wisp until the end came free, sending glitter motes across the velvet carriage seat.

      “What’s it made of?” He ran his fingers through the strands as they disintegrated with his touch.

      “Magic and music.” Danika caught a shimmer of glitter on the tip of her fingernail. “In the Forest of Song, they are one and the same.”

      Snippets of melodies rode the wind, accompanied by tinkling chords and a low humming buzz. Now and then one particular note would catch itself in her heart and she’d sigh, remembering days long past when her father took her hunting, or when her mother sang a lullaby.

      The orchestra of sounds grew louder as they rode into the minstrels’ domain until a mighty symphony pounded bass notes in the bottom of Danika’s stomach. She glanced at Nip. Would he block his ears? But the boy listened carefully, as if each refrain held the answers to secrets he’d long sought.

      The carriage rose from the mist of the forest and turned a bend.

      “Whoa.” Bron’s voice echoed as a dissonance against the backdrop of harmonious sounds. The horses slowed, giving Danika and Nip time to take in the scene spread before them. Gabled cottages, nestled in long-stemmed grassy hills, shone pearly white in the rising moon.

      When the carriage door squeaked open Danika expected Bron’s paw-like palm and met Valorian instead. He offered a long-fingered hand to help her from the carriage. She slid her fingers into his, feeling his cool, soft skin.

      “Follow me.”

      She eyed Bron as he untied the horses. He bowed his head in deference, failing to meet her eyes. A pang of guilt swept through her. How could she leave him to be a second hand? Valorian pulled her forward, and she had no choice but to leave Bron behind. Nip followed behind her and Bron took up the rear with both horses in tow.

      Valorian