Read Online Siren's Song by Mary Weber - Free Book Online

want?”
    â€œA reading of Draewulf and Bron, and to know about Isobel and me. And you.” He dips his head but doesn’t drop his gaze, allowing it to burn through the dark as a shadow of hesitation flickers. A hint of pain. “She wanted to know what Draewulf had done through me, as well as my future intentions.”
    â€œAnd?”
    He firms his chin. Watching. Waiting.
    For what?
    â€œWhat did you say?” I want to ask. “About what you’ve done? About Isobel and you? About your past and your future?”
    â€œAnd what did she say about Draewulf and me?”
    But that hesitation . . .
    It asks if I really want to know.
    I look away. To exhale. Inhale. To forget how blasted tired I am and try to focus on the fact that if we’re going to even have a future at all, we need to escape.
    He nods and straightens and leans back, nonchalant-like, against the bed. “Dare I inquire about yours?”
    My gaze flashes up.
    Until I realize he’s not asking about my future intentions.
    Oh. I shift my position. “I met the Inters and they’re blasted eerie. I may have left them a bit put off.”
    â€œI imagine you did.” His grin matches his tone. “And what did they find?”
    â€œThey asked about my past. They wanted the truth about who I am and who I was born as, which . . .” I study him beneath my lashes. “I was born in an internment camp, apparently.”
    He raises a brow.
    And I was not supposed to survive.
    â€œI saw my real parents. In my mind.” I give him a pointed look. “Funny how it seems everyone’s more informed of my past than I am.”
    His expression stills. In the lines and lips I’ve come to know all too well in the past few months.
    It’s his struggle to guard me from himself.
    I look at my hands to hide the sudden tightness in my chest as a soft rain starts to drizzle on the glass ceiling. It falls into rhythm with my voice when I finally work up the courage to ask the question I’ve held on to since we left Tulla yesterday. “So how long have you known?”
    â€œAbout?”
    â€œMy parents, or rather the fact that the ones you killed were not my birth parents. And that I would be the final piece. Or the fact that Draewulf needed me.”
    â€œI suspected it when I first realized you were true Elemental.”
    My voice hitches. “When?” If the weight of the room was already heavy, it’s itching with static now. As if the storm I can sense building outside is working its way into this room. Into us.
    â€œThat day you nearly killed me and Colin out in the meadow because I’d angered you by asking about the redheaded girl.”
    â€œYou knew then ? That I was the heir? That I was Draewulf’s endgame?”
    â€œAs I said, I suspected.”
    I snort and look away.
    â€œThe prophecy—the Elegy my people kept hidden,” he says, as if in explanation.
    I stride to the window and stare at those gates.
    â€œI suspected because of the prophecy. If your people had known of it, they would’ve drawn the same conclusion.”
    â€œAnd you simply never found the time to mention it,” I whisper.
    â€œI wasn’t sure until I saw Draewulf go for you at the battle in the Keep.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you say something at Adora’s?”
    â€œIf I’d told you I suspected it at Adora’s, or even a few weeks ago when Draewulf had shape-shifted into me, what would you have done?”
    â€œI would’ve appreciated your honesty.”
    His chuckle is soft. Even as the next moment the tired tension etched through his countenance suddenly acknowledges where we are—and what we’ve been through—and it’s as if the events of these past few weeks have just dropped into this room, and we are both staring it all in the face. “No. You would’ve scoffed and resented the pressure that kind of expectation put upon you. And