Page 57 of Unraveling Fate

Taran scooped her into a hug and spun her around, laughing. “Sorry? Cadenza! You’re a Spinner!”

Fourteen

10 Sep 2019

Steam crept up the cottage’s kitchen window, fogging against the rain-cooled glass. Cadenza clutched the blanket Taran had found for her tighter around her shoulders while he rummaged for mugs in the cupboard.

This ability to hear music from the world, that she’d never understood and for so much of her life had only half believed was real—it had a name. Taran had named it. A name meant answers. But as much as her soul yearned for those answers, her mind reared back, overloaded with the evening, and she broached a different topic first.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” She ran her hands over Taran’s arms, looking for burns.

“Fine, fine.” He hadn’t stopped grinning since the field, and each time he looked at her, his eyes glowed with satisfaction. He set the mugs on the counter, planted another kiss on her mouth, and returned to making tea, whistling.

“How are you not burned?” she asked.

“That has to do with our job. Remember I said we guarded a kind of king?”

She nodded.

“The king is actually called the Crown, but we’ll get to that later. Anyway, we needed to be able to handle heat for that job. We can feel heat, but we don’t burn.” The kettle whistled and he filled the mugs.

Cadenza’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean, you don’t burn? That was lightning. It’s straight electricity.”

“I mean,” he said, holding the kettle over the sink and pouring boiling water over his hand. “I don’t burn.”

Cadenza grabbed his hand with a yelp, but no blisters or redness rose on his skin. She flipped his hand back and forth, but his skin was clear. Taran intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled her into his chest.

“We don’t burn,” he repeated. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pointed out the kitchen window with the other. “And the storm was my doing. I called it while playing.”

Cadenza listened to his heartbeat under her ear. His constant drum song wrapped around her, a familiar ocean now.

“Ok, just so I’m up to speed,” she said wryly. “You’re some kind of immortal cursed to live as a Ferrari, who can call storms, and make earthquakes. And you’re fireproof.”

He laughed. “Sounds daft when you put it like that. All these things have just been normal to me, this is just who I am—well, except for the cursed part. And technically not immortal, just very long lived. But you’ve got the gist of it.”

“Bene. As long as we’re on the same page. I should know how to explain you to my sisters when I see them again, right?”

“Si, dovresti sapermi spiegare,” he agreed, translating her words into her second language.

Cadenza’s mouth dropped open. “Immortal, cursed, storms, earthquakes, fireproof, and parli l’italiano?”

He laughed. “Lots of nights with nothing else to do. I have a few languages under my belt.”

She nuzzled under his jaw, marveling. “Any more surprises I should know about?”

Timpani and bodhran spiked, hot waves against her skin. A mischievous growl spread through his chest, and he lifted her face to his. “Undoubtedly.”

The back door opened with a bang, and Drostan stomped in. Cadenza blushed, stepping away from Taran.

“It’s a wee bit damp outside!” Drostan shook the rain out of his beard. “I don’t know where this storm came from; it was still summer earlier today.”

Taran raised his hand. “Sorry, my fault.”

Drostan shot a look at his son. “I’m sure most of my gray hairs are your fault, but not the weather. Pay him no mind, Caddie. Always teasing.”

“It’s alright, athair. She knows.”

Cadenza held her breath. Until now she’d only thought of this strange, new situation in relation to Taran and herself. But this was Drostan’s world too. His life. Would he be upset Taran had told her so much?