"Set him down here," Emery ordered Fosse, pointing a finger toward Seth's bed. Her eyes scanned the bedroom to search for anything out of place, but it appeared Theo had left everything undisturbed when he'd kidnapped the redhead. With the house missing a door, his breaking in had been even simpler than last time.  

As soon as Fosse set Seth down on the mattress, Emery sat next to him and lay a hand over his feverish forehead. There was a slight gleam of sweat over his face and chest now. She wondered if that meant he was waking up from the spell. Her hand reached out to stroke his hair, while the other balled up into a fist so tight that her knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry," she whispered, grabbing his hand to land a soft kiss against it.  His light eyelashes fluttered under her touch, but his eyes didn't open.

"This boy is your chosen?" Fosse asked. 

She glanced over her shoulder at the blue-ish man, now resting gracefully against the window. The daylight poured over his features, casting a certain glow over his iridescent skin. 

"What does that mean?" she asked. Seth's fingers started to tremble slightly. She gripped him tighter, hoping that would somehow let him know he was okay. 

"Chosen is the one you decide to keep forever. Unlike marriage, the promise to your chosen is much more . . . permanent." The person you decide to take to Izoven, she concluded. 

"Not yet," Emery answered, resuming her gentle caress on his head. The messy curls moved back into place whenever she pushed them away. "I'm not sure he'd be willing."

"Does that mean you are willing?" Fosse interrogated. "You don't seem so."

"How would you know?" It didn't feel right for him to question her feelings with his mind-reading magic or whatever it was.

The siren kneeled next to her. Though she didn't dare look at him, she could feel his golden eyes running around her features. "The mind suffocates the heart's voice—a common tragedy that leads to problematic ends."

Emery threw him a fierce scowl. "I love him."

Fosse flattened his lips into a slight frown. His golden eyes softened, but the pupils were still dilated as he turned to stare at Seth. "I'm not so sure it's the kind of love he's looking for."

She fell into silence at his words; they stung against her ears, making her face burn in embarrassment. Even though only one of them was naked, Emery was the one who felt bare. 

"Just as I'm not sure you want love from him," he whispered. "Maybe comfort, loyalty, intima—"

"Stop," she exclaimed, pressing a hand against her temple. "That's not true."

"As you wish, but the heart does not lie, Emery, and yours is becoming clearer every moment we spend together," he told her, his lips stretching out into a satisfied grin. 

"No more," Emery demanded a stop to his stupid magical assumptions. He couldn't possibly know what she actually felt. 

"Very well," he gave up, retreating back to his place by the window. "Then would you like to speak of the boy who looked an alarming amount like Izoven's banished king?"

Seth stirred, and for the first time since he'd been hexed, his eyelids half-opened albeit with great difficulty. Emery hurried away to rummage through his open luggage for any stretchy fabric that might fit Fosse's large frame. Settling for a big shirt and sweatpants, she shoved them at the siren and ushered him out the door. "You have to go. Take the backdoor and get dressed. Don't let anyone see you."

She returned to the bed as soon as Fosse disappeared from her sight. Her hands ran through her hair in quick motions, trying to get it to look somewhat decent—a lost cause at this point. Seth furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes opened, squinting against the light. They were no longer glassy as they had once been, but a clear blue like Izoven's glowing waters. 

"Hey," she whispered placing her hands against his cheeks to land kiss upon kiss from his forehead to his lips. Her heart swelled up at the sight of him conscious once more. He was okay. That was all that mattered. "How do you feel?"

Seth shook his head slightly. "Not too hot," he groaned out, his voice hoarse from excess sleep. "Or too hot, actually."

Emery smiled, pressing a cold hand against his heated forehead. "It's just a bit of flu. I'm sure it'll blow over soon," she told him yet another lie, and felt guilty about how easily it poured out of her.

"Oh, God, I think I—" he stopped to slam a hand over his mouth, his torso flying up to peer over the edge of the bed. His skin turned a sickly shade of pale.

Emery hurried to look around the room, finding a tin basket pushed against the far right corner of the room. 

Seth reached for the small trash can, his body recoiling every time he heaved up vomit. Emery ran a hand up and down his back, wishing she could do more to ease his discomfort. When he finally stopped and fell back onto the sheets, she let out a relieved sigh; his skin was returning to its normal color.

"How did I even get sick?" he moaned, pinching his eyes shut. "You should go or you'll get sick too."

"Don't worry. I made sure to drink a big cup of orange juice just to take care of you," Emery whispered, pushing slightly sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. She studied him intently then, relishing in the familiarity of his slightly frizzy strands, all clumping together in a mess of red curls. Her finger gently traveled along his straight nose and the splatter of freckles over his cheeks. 

How could Fosse tell her she didn't love him? When this face had grown to be her family and her home. Seth was her definition of love.  

He opened his eyes once more, his expression making the slight shift from pained to worried. "Hey, why are you crying?"

Christ, was she? That was one cry too many. She needed to get herself together or at least get some decent sleep. 

Her hand furiously wiped away at her wet cheeks, her lips trembling up into a smile. "Nothing. Try to get some sleep. I'm gonna run out for some flu remedies."

"Em . . ." he called her, grabbing onto her wrist. Although he barely had any strength, it was enough to make her settle back down with a tired huff. "You sure you're okay?" 

Typical . . . He was the one writhing in sickness and he was worried about her. 

Emery landed more kisses on his cheeks, her lips feeling cold against his skin. In that opposition of temperature, she let herself wonder for an instant if her love was different from his. And even as she said "I love you" and meant it, she doubted it had the same depth as his reply. 

"I love you too," his tone hinted confusion, eyes sparkling with emotion.

She started to ease away. Seth's gaze darted around her face, probably trying to find an explanation for her demeanor. She didn't stay long enough for him to guess, and instead, landed one last kiss on his forehead before retreating out the door. 

⤝◈◈◈◈◈⤞

"Fosse?" Emery called out in a harsh whisper as she treaded along Mrs. Baker's backyard. She turned around once and rubbed her palm against her forehead. Where the heck had he gone?

Emery was about to turn back and head into town when she heard a girl yell, "Answer me! Who are you? Why are you here?"

Her feet reacted before she even realized what was happening. She rushed between tall, bushy shrubs at the side of Baker's yard. The street came into view, with Fosse slammed against its sidewalk. The siren laid face down, with sweatpants on, but the shirt thrown a few feet away along with his fiddle. A small girl sat on his back with one hand on his neck and the other raised up, covered with fire. 

"Poppy, no!" Emery yelled, running toward the girl to move her away from the siren. 

The girl looked up at Emery and flinched. "What? Do you know this thing?"

She pinched her lips together and cringed. The siren was in danger of getting hurt, so she slumped her shoulders and exclaimed, "Yes, now get off of him." She looped her arms around Poppy's underarms and dragged her away from Fosse, her slippered feet sliding against the cement. 

"How could one so small be so strong?" Fosse groaned as he pushed himself away from the cement. He swept his hand over his chest to brush away any pebbles or dirt. 

"I've got more where that came from if you step out of line, ya hear me? You— You . . . Emery what is he?" she asked, craning her neck up to stare at Emery. 

"Siren," Emery sighed out, letting Poppy go when they were a few feet away. 

She moved in a blur, straightening up, whipping around, and grabbing Emery by the shoulders in shock. "Siren?!" Her head turned to stare at Fosse and then at his fiddle thrown over the grass. "Fosse Grim," she gasped, making a small curtsy when he looked her way. 

"What an adventure . . . " Fosse laughed. "Being tackled by a young fireborn and having to wear pants. I'm not sure which I enjoy less."

"How are you here? Why are you here? My name's Poppy, by the way."

"Can't say it's a pleasure," Fosse answered, picking up the long-sleeved shirt to pull it over his head. He hadn't realized he'd put it on backward until Emery gestured for him to turn it around with a curl of her index finger.

The siren seemed unaccustomed to clothing by the way he kept pinching and scratching at the fabric. Though it fitted his bulky frame rather tightly, at least it covered most of his blue skin. 

Poppy's eyes darted between them, eager to see who would explain first. "Well? Explain."

Fosse seemed to sense that Emery had things to hide, and kept his mouth shut, but she wished he hadn't. The drowsiness was getting the best of her now, and she couldn't think of any valid excuse for why a creature from Izoven was in the middle of Bellenau. 

"He needs to stay for a while No one can know he's here," Emery didn't want to plead, and hopelessly wished she wouldn't pursue the topic further, but that wasn't possible. 

"That's not an explanation," Poppy retorted, her dark eyebrows knitting in confusion. "History states The Composer never left the realm from the day Izoven gifted him his cave. So, how did he get here?"

Again, Emery could only flatten her lips into a frown and hope for a flash of inspiration, but she was so tired . . . Her under-eyes felt heavy now. Every blink felt like sandpaper being rubbed over her eyes. 

Poppy's lips pursed in discontent, her gaze straying off as she analyzed the situation. Her nose wiggled as she mulled the subject over.

Emery unconsciously tightened her grip on her hands. The uncertainty made her nerves worse. After the couple of days she'd had, she felt at her wit's end. If Poppy didn't agree to keep this secret, it was over. 

Theo would probably run before the House could even chase him. The gate would be lost in Izoven. The House of Fire's reputation would be worsened. All in all, she'd have caused a disaster. 

She was just about to have another meltdown, when Poppy muttered, "We can't tell Mave."

"What?" Emery choked out, her arms falling limp beside her. 

Poppy pinched her lips together and cringed. "I don't know how you got him here, but . . . Mave can't find out about this."

Of all the possible outcomes, this is the one she least expected. She could've left it at that and made a run for it, but she found herself wondering "Why?"

"Mave is . . . not well. News like this could push her over the edge," she explained, turning her blue eyes to the ground in deep thought. "Do you promise he'll be gone in a few days?"

After a second to recover from the shock, Emery blurted out, "Yes, I do . . . but what do you mean she's not well?"

Poppy frowned and reached for a long strand of her. Her finger coiled around the strand before letting go in the same fidgeting motion. "She's, um—sick . . . in a way. If he'll be gone soon, there's no need for her to know. I don't want her to get worse. Mave is," she stopped, her fidgeting getting slower, "she's important to me." 

Emery nodded. "I can't tell you how he got here."

Poppy narrowed her eyes at Emery. "Alright, I'll let you keep your secret, but I'm only doing so in hopes you'll trust me with it later on, and I know you will." Her serious demeanor vanished as she turned to the siren once more. "Plus, now I get to ask Fosse Grim a million questions."

Fosse flinched, swinging his fiddle between two fingers as he walked closer. "So many?"

"Yes!" She fluttered her eyelashes at him in such a way Emery couldn't possibly think she was doing it on purpose. Her eyes twinkled in curiosity. "I've read so many books about you. The great composer of the Four Songs. You were there when the realm's history was written. You met Izoven herself. You met the first Kings and Queens. You made a song for each—"

The siren cleared his throat twice, seeming to hold back a smile. "I suppose I can answer a few questions."

As she continued to fawn over Fosse and all he'd accomplished, Emery's eyes noticed movement at the end of the street. A gasp escaped her mouth when she saw the front of the sheriff's car about to turn in their direction. 

"Hide," Emery ordered, grabbing Fosse by a fistful of shirt to push him back toward Mrs. Baker's yard. The siren didn't protest and walked further in and out of sight. Emery tried her best to relax until she remembered that she was still wearing an outfit that resembled more of a Halloween costume than clothes. 

Poppy glanced over her shoulder to finally see what had startled Emery. Her shoulders tensed at the sight. 

"You don't think it's Lila, do you?" Emery asked. 

The question got an answer soon enough, when the car slowed down next to them. The car's window lowered to reveal Officer Asher, with a toothpick jammed between his teeth and his signature scowl stuck upon his features. "Pretty early for you two to be out an about."

"I always take morning walks," Poppy was quick to answer. "I figured I'd drag Emery into it too."

He scrunched up his nose before directing his eyes at Emery. His arm swung over the window opening to pull himself up. His eyes rolled up and down her outfit. Half a smirk played around his lips. "Odd choice of clothes for a morning walk, Wright."

"It's a morning walk, not a run," Emery replied, crossing her arms.

Her reply seemed to irritate him, by the way his glare sharpened. "You better tell Mrs. Baker to take care. Old woman's too nice; it might get her trouble one of these days." His big hands scratched at his salt and pepper stubble. Emery grimaced at the way he sucked on the wooden toothpick. Bits of dead skin stuck up on his chapped lips. They stretched into another smile while he eased he shifted in his seat. "Will you?"

"Yeah, I'll tell her," was her half-assed, muttered reply. 

"Good. You stay out of trouble, okay, Poppy?" 

The girl nodded at him as he eased his foot off the break, resuming his drive down the street and turning to the left. Emery huffed out a sigh of relief and let herself crumble over the sidewalk. The flat cement didn't feel comfortable or nice in any way, but it was the first time she'd gotten to ease her muscles since she'd left for Izoven. She felt the tendons and fibers relax, a satisfying release spreading around her upper back. For a whole fifteen seconds, she only focused on breathing, until her two companions decided to disturb her peace. 

"Is she okay?" Poppy asked. 

Fosse answered, "I think so. She just needs some sleep is all."

Emery groaned, her eyelids fluttering open to stare at two curious faces peering down on her. "I couldn't possibly sleep knowing we're in danger of being found out."

"I know a place he can stay. No one will know he's there, at least until you get decent sleep. You look exhausted." Poppy lifted her lips into a grimaced smile. "And maybe a bath will do you good?"

Ignoring the obvious jab at her inevitably dirty appearance, Emery pushed herself up and asked, "Where?"

Poppy stretched out a hand to help Emery stand up before answering, "The House."