Sing Me Your Scars (Apex Voices Book 3) by Damien Angelica Walters Page A

and forced his lips into a smile. “I’m sure she
will finish her work and come home soon.”
    A little lie. Just like the taste of honey in her spoon.
    “I wish the soldiers could find someone else to help them. I miss
her, Papa. I miss her so much.”
    “I miss her, too.”
    “Magic me a story, Papa.”
    “I wish I could, but you know it would make the soldiers angry. I
will tell you a story instead.”
    “Okay.”
    “And what story do you want to hear?”
    Her face brightened. “Jūratė and Kastytis.”
    He smiled. Saulė had told her the story time and again. He
always thought it too sad for a small child, but it was Laurita’s favorite. He
readjusted the curtains, fluffed Laurita’s pillow, and pulled the blanket up to
her chin.
    “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful mermaid goddess who
lived under the sea in a palace made of amber. Her name was Jūratė,
and she had a long tail with scales the color of the sky just before the sun
sets.
    “And there was a handsome fisherman named Kastytis who would come
to the sea every day to catch fish, but one day, while Kastytis was in his
boat, Perkūnas was angry and made a big storm.”
    Andrius let a little magic slip free. Just a touch of the salt
tang of the Baltic Sea and a darkening of the air near the ceiling to resemble
a storm cloud.
    “Kastytis fell into the sea. Jūratė saw him fall and
rescued him from the waves. She took him home to her palace, and they fell in
love.
    “But this made Perkūnas very angry. He didn’t think
Jūratė should love a mortal man like Kastytis. He wanted her to marry
Patrimpas, the God of Water. In his anger, he sent a lightning bolt from the
sky through the water.”
    Andrius made light flash in the air, one quick snap of soundless
bright.
    “The lightning hit Jūratė’s palace, shattering it into
thousands and thousands of fragments, and poor Kastytis was killed.
    “Perkūnas punished Jūratė by chaining her to the
ruins of her castle. And now, when storms strike the sea, you can hear
Jūratė crying for Kastytis, and you can find her tears washed upon
the shore.”
    He held out his hand and opened his fingers, revealing a tiny
piece of amber that Laurita took and held up to the light. It glowed with a
secret fire, then it winked out of sight. She put her hand down and looked at
him for a long time without speaking, her mouth set into a frown, her eyes
filled with a seriousness far too advanced for her years.
    “Perkūnas should have not made the storm and the thunder. He
should’ve protected the palace instead, and he should’ve left Jūratė
and Kastytis alone.”
    “It’s just a story, little one. Only a story.”
    But the frown did not leave her face.
    “Papa, why does the magic make the soldiers angry?”
    “I don’t know,” he lied.
    §
    From his bedroom window, Andrius could see the edge of a
striped awning at the end of the street. A theater, its stage now silent and
dark. He’d performed there a long time ago, but he still remembered the heat of
the lights and the gasps of surprise from the audience.
    The best magicians could make the people forget they were seated
indoors, could transport them to another time, another place. Lithuanian magic
was no mere sleight of hand or game of misdirection, but a gift from the land,
born from the spring breeze and the winter chill, the fir tree and the rivers.
    It could create lions from shadows and birds from candleflame.
Could send snowfall on a summer day and turn tears into rain. Even if you were
not in a theater during a performance, you could stand outside and feel it in
the air, a silent music pulsing from the magician’s fingertips. It was power,
but not of control or destruction. It gave hope. Happiness. Strength. All the
things the Russians wanted to take away.
    Saulė had not wanted him to stop performing, but life on the
stage belonged to a man without responsibilities. He’d traded the theater for
small magics to make her smile and later, to