His voice rose distressingly high, and Cara and Sasi instantly tried to shush him. The young woman glanced towards the keep—Culin’s voice could probably rouse even the most tired sleepers—and relented.

“Alright, alright. Just a little song, okay?”

The two brightened up. So Cara sat, and sang them a quick pop song. Instantly, there was light.

There was sound, sound such as they had never heard before. Culin’s face brightened up, and Sasi clapped her hands, but so quietly as to not drown out Cara’s voice and the music, which was very low so as not to wake anyone.

As if she thought it would be something no one but children wanted to hear. As if she thought it would not amaze or delight, even now.

Look at them. Culin began to dance, awkwardly, and Sasi skipped around him, clapping her hands.

Children dancing, despite a siege. Smiling, and—Cara watched Culin as she sang and saw how desperately sad he had been a second before.

Not visibly tearful, but bleakly so. Brave because the young [Lord] of Afiele must be in this dark hour. So she sang them one song, then two, then three—and then coughed as she felt something tickle her throat.

Culin and Sasi looked around. Cara tried to keep going, but she lost her rhythm, faltered—

“What is that?”

Cara tasted smoke. She looked up, saw a rising smokestack blowing their way, and thought for a moment something was on fire. She panicked—but a voice spoke.

“I believe they are cremating some of the dead outside the walls. With magic, so they cannot rise. That is a lovely song, Miss Cara. I do not think it would go amiss indoors either.”

Cara turned. Culin and Sasi glanced up, stopped dancing, and bowed deeply. There, watching them, was Princess Seraphel du Marquin.

“Your Highness.”

Cara did not bow. She straightened and watched Seraphel warily. Their last conversation lay before them, making the young woman uncomfortable. However, Seraphel just walked forwards with a smile for Cara.

“A lovely song. You have a rare Skill, Miss Cara. To make musical instruments play as you sing. I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“No…I hope I didn’t disturb you?”

Seraphel’s smile was as self-deprecating as Cara’s expression was wary. She nodded to the keep.

“I do not think any of us are badly needed. I am sure I do better out of the way. If I may listen, that would be most welcome.”

“Of course…”

Cara’s skin prickled. It was one thing to sing to the two children, but to this [Princess]? She told herself Seraphel had done nothing Cara should resent her for besides being born, but…

The young woman from Ireland inhaled, then coughed again. Seraphel fanned at her face. The smoke was getting worse.

“Perhaps we should all retire indoors?”