“Why?” He walked between Merton and me, guiding me through a thin spot in the crowd.
A few people sneered at me. One shouted, “Sylph-lover!” but most just frowned and turned away. Maybe they didn’t completely believe what Merton was saying. It did seem too fantastic.
“For dragging you even deeper into this mess.” I ducked through the door when Sam hauled it open for me. “After our trip”—I didn’t specify where, in case anyone overheard us—“and what we learned there, you must be pretty nervous.”
Darkness flashed in his eyes, something he wasn’t telling me, but it vanished quickly. “I want you to feel safe. I’d never regret your feeling safe.” He followed me inside. “If I can’t give you that, I at least want you to have answers. I’ll help you find them however I can.”
“I know people have started calling your SED to yell, now that Stef blocked them on mine.” I hated that they were trying to make him miserable, too.
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I can deal with them.”
Why? Why would he endure all this for me? Was this what it meant to be loved? If you loved someone, could love make you strong like that?
I hoped I could become that strong.
Sam rested his palm on the small of my back as we walked through the ornate halls of the Councilhouse. Paintings lined the walls, most depicting faraway places with cliffs or endless stretches of sand. Closer to the library, there was a painting of tropical fish in a coral reef; that was one of my favorites, though I’d never been to such a place. One day, I would. I hoped.
When we reached the Council chamber, we were told to wait. I filled the time by writing in my notebook. Sam spent the time frowning at a wall. “The piano needs a little work, don’t you think?”
I glanced up. “Maybe?”
“It sounds off. I’m going to look at it when we get home.”
The piano sounded spectacular to me, but I didn’t have his ear, so I just smiled and leaned on his shoulder.
When we were called, I followed him into the Council chamber and dropped my notebook onto the table, which ran the length of the room. It was an ancient piece made from a dozen species of wood, inlaid with beautiful swirls of metal. Once a month, the Council called me in for a progress report; while they droned on about the importance of mathematics, which I already knew, I had ample time to search for patterns across the smooth face.
Ten Councilors sat across from Sam and me, some familiar faces, some new since Templedark. Four Councilors had been confirmed dead that night, and the fifth, Meuric…they’d never find him. The replacements were mostly young, one barely past his first quindec, the age when people were allowed to start working again.
“Hello, Dossam. Hello, Ana.” Councilor Sine brushed aside a wisp of gray hair that had escaped her bun. “This session is closed for now, but later the recording will be archived and available, all right?”
It wasn’t really a question, so I didn’t respond.
She went on. “The Council has been informed of yesterday’s incident. Please, tell us about it.”
“Okay.” My heartbeat fumbled as I sat and tried not to pay attention to everyone looking at me. “A bunch of us went to the beach yesterday. Sylph came. I brought out my SED to message you.”
“I remember,” said Sine. “Go on.”
“Then I turned on the music.”
“Why?” asked Deborl.
I was a terrible liar. “Um.” A really terrible liar. “I think Menehem mentioned something to me during Templedark. He said music calmed sylph.”
“And you never told us that before?” Councilor Frase lifted an eyebrow. “That would have been very useful information to have.”
“I forgot. I only remembered at the lake.” How much deeper could I dig this lie? It made me feel dirty, even though they’d throw me out of Heart if they knew the truth.
“Then the sylph followed your orders,” Councilor Antha said. “Yesterday, at the lake. Reports say you shouted at them to flee, and they did.”
“Do you have any idea why they did that?” Sine laced her fingers, not at all the friendly Councilor she’d been when we first met. Now she was the Speaker, always looking to see where people had cracks in their armor, and whether they might be lying. Her attention made me want to shatter.
“I—” The lines I’d prepared seemed like someone else’s words now. Everyone would know I was lying, and I couldn’t look to Sam for help, because these questions weren’t for him. “I don’t think sylph are stupid,” I blurted.
“Oh?” Sine waited.
“Well, people saw it yesterday: sylph sang along with music. They knew enough to recognize it as music and sing along with it without ever—I assume—having heard it before.”