Siren Slave Read Online Free PDF Page B

sound sincere. She went to push a lock of hair from her face only to touch the winged band from her dream. She wasn’t going to question its presence or complain. She was keeping it.
    “I must caution you,” Morrigan said. “Never tell another soul your true name. Only those you trust with your life. You can never, ever use your powers against someone who knows your true name, at least not with the intention to kill. I would advise that you might not know well enough who your enemies are.” Morrigan raised an elegant brow. “Your tale then. Time does grow short indeed.”
    She glanced at the sky. The sun had long since moved past its zenith. The ruins were bathed in an orange light. Tomorrow, tomorrow was Freya’s wedding day. Or was it?
    Freya told them what she’d seen. Everything. Even the part about Odilia. If she had such power, Freya did not want to use it. The fey stood silent, immovable for several moments, save for Balder, whose hand struck a few disjointed notes from his lyre.
    When Morrigan spoke, she was not terrified or concerned as Freya had expected. “You must begin learning immediately.”
    It hit her then. They were serious about learning her powers. She’d just had a Power Dream. She was fey.
    Freya jumped up. “Balder, bring more of that blueberry ale. To Folkvang. Tonight. Hedwig, I need a pair of those strange shoes. And, ooh, we are going to need food.”
    “For what?” Morrigan asked, and Freya realized all three looked at her quizzically. Wasn’t it obvious?
    “For the victory celebration.”
    They still looked confused.
    “A celebration because the Romans will be going back to Rome or else they’ll be scorched by lightning. King Vercingetorix will want to come to the celebration. So will Siegfried. Gaul will be ours.”
    “Freya,” Morrigan said patiently. “Are you certain you won’t hit any allies with your lightning? I didn’t think you wished to use your other magic.”
    “I thought the lightning would go straight for the armor,” Freya said.
    “Your warrior friends have metal-tipped spears, dear. This is going to be more complicated than you think. We are going to train you in your powers, and you are going to go on about your life as if nothing has changed until you learn them. Then we will look into the Roman problem, along with the assassin problem. We will start with shape shifting, starting with your swan form.”
    “All those heights,” Freya murmured into her ale, suddenly not excited, visions of the victory celebration dissipating.
    “I liked Freya’s celebration idea,” Hedwig said. “Especially if it involves those warriors.”
    “Those heights will be very useful when trying to elude someone who cannot fly. As we progress, your other gifts will be easier to use. Be warned that your powers are very much tied to your emotions. Now, stand and think about flying high.”

Chapter Two
    Freya made her way back into the city.
    She had managed to transform into a swan only once. The other times, she had been nervous. Her arms had become wings, and she had been able to take a few flying leaps. She was proud of herself that she had succeeded at all. But when she had transformed properly, the wings had grown from her back.
    At least Morrigan hadn’t made her practice the most frighteningpower, what she’d dubbed the Blood Call.
    Look at the ground. Watch your step for once. Don’t think about killing people or them choking on their own blood.
    So lost in thought, Freya walked right into someone’s back, an impenetrable wall covered with a red cape.
    “Watch where you’re going,” the Roman said. “Filthy peasants, always walking into their betters.”
    She knew that Roman and he knew her; it was the man who had grabbed Hedwig. “Sorry, my lard,” she said, purposely mispronouncing the last word. It was silly, but she refused to call a Roman “lord.”
    Even when Freya was living as a Remi princess, the Romans were a force to be reckoned with. Her parents