Free Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) by A.M. Hodgson

a huge t-shirt— something I’d imagine a six hundred pound man might wear— to act as my temporary pjs. My books and other possessions were already stacked neatly on a table in the reading nook, brought up by one of the maids.
    “You should get some sleep,” she said.
    I nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
    “Well then…” she stood at my doorway, a bit awkwardly for a few seconds. “Good night!” she turned and left so abruptly, I didn’t have a chance to return the greeting.
    I pulled on the shirt and threw my clothes in a wad on the floor, grateful to be out of the overly tight sweatshirt and sweatpants. I turned down the bedclothes, sliding in before staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, I sighed and hit the button on the night stand to flick the light off. Marin was right, I did need to get some sleep. The morning was sure to come all too quickly, and I’d want to be refreshed if I was at the council’s mercy.
    I wondered what exactly the council was. The impression I’d formed from Marin was that they ruled over the magical people— the extras. Based on her father’s words, it seemed like the council was one part police force, one part United Nations. Depending on which direction it swayed, my fate could go very differently.
    I tried, for a moment, to put myself into their shoes. Suddenly, a girl appears from a species they’d assumed dead. Would I be considered a lucky find? Something to hold onto to keep my race from burning out completely? Maybe no one cared if the sirens died out. Maybe they were even glad it happened, happy that there were no longer sirens around to do that to people. With guilt burning inside me, I’d be inclined to agree. It’d be better if I hadn’t been a siren at all. Susan and Rick would’ve been spared my experimenting, and— let’s face it— my compulsive need, a need I was too weak to ignore, to manipulate them with my song.
    The bed was warm, but I shivered anyway. I closed my eyes for a few minutes, then opened them back up. Sleep probably wasn’t in the cards tonight. Instead, I opted to think about what the day had brought, attempting to focus on the good. My dulcimer playing, my singing, what a dual-edge that had been! I felt so free, so incredibly good while performing, but the joy of the memory was always cut short because it was so entwined with Susan and Rick’s misfortune.
    I thought instead about the nature of sirens in general. Marin didn’t seem to have any of the answers I really needed. She told me what I was, but had given me no insight into the characteristics of my species. Sirens were a mystery to me. And to Marin, assuming she’d been honest. If they had a special alliance to mermaids, it wasn’t likely they’d be more forthright to other extras about their culture. I wondered if anyone alive knew enough to guide me.
    What other species could help me? This morning I believed that magic was something securely locked away in fairy tales and fantasy novels— something that wasn’t real, something that couldn’t touch me. Now I wondered just how many magical races there were. Marin mentioned a few, but her attitude suggested she was just scratching the surface. Could it be possible that every single story I’ve read has some sort of basis in reality? If I’d been asked earlier in the day, the answer would have been a resounding ‘no’. Yet with this new information, I couldn’t help but think that most stories were based on something .
    My thoughts drifted through the night, wavering from curiosity to the very depths of guilt and anger with myself. At the moment, I was only prolonging the inevitable— how long would it take for me to accept that I’d already killed them? If I woke them up and institutionalized them, they almost certainly wouldn’t be happy… but… could they ever be happy again? I had a gnawing suspicion that it was impossible, unless I sang to them a second time, a third, a fourth— and I wasn’t willing to do