Song of the Forever Rains

by Mellow, E. J.

  By the Obasi Sea. This couldn’t truly be happening, could it?

  “Wait.” She pulled away. “Before you do, I . . . I need to tell you something.”

  He waited.

  “It’s regarding a day when you were in Jabari.”

  “Yes?” Darius tilted his head curiously.

  “You were in the lower quarters, surrounded by men meaning to rob you, but a girl intervened. A street urchin. Do you remember?”

  His eyes lost focus, as if seeing the memory she spoke of. “I remember,” he said slowly. “But how do you—”

  “I was that girl.”

  Darius blinked.

  “I was that girl who guided you out of the lowers. Who had an injured left hand and who you said you owed a favor to.” Larkyra raised said hand, wiggling her half-missing ring finger, as if calling forth the bandage that had once wrapped around it. “Despite how I looked and can only assume smelled, you spoke to me as though I were an equal. You were kind to me.”

  Darius was quiet a moment. He looked beyond them, to his reborn lands, before a laugh bellowed out of him.

  He laughed and laughed until a tear rolled from the corner of his eye. He wiped it away.

  “Of course it was you,” he said, taking a moment more to collect himself.

  “You are not angry?”

  “Why would I be angry?”

  “Don’t you want to know why I was dressed that way?”

  “You’re a Bassette. I’m assuming the two are related?”

  She frowned at the accuracy of that statement. “Still, aren’t you curious—”

  “I’ll leave the curiosity to you, my love, for you have more than enough to get the both of us into trouble.”

  “I’m unsure if that’s a compliment.”

  “While you mull it over”—Darius took her hands in his once more—“can I ask you that question now?”

  Larkyra swallowed. “If you must.”

  “Oh, I must more than any other musts.”

  “You are beginning to sound like me.”

  “Now that I shall take as a compliment.” He lowered himself to one knee.

  Larkyra’s eyes went wide, her pulse breaking free from her skin to flutter and buzz with the surrounding bees.

  “Larkyra Bassette,” he began. “Singer of the Mousai, filthy girl of Jabari, and woman of, I’m sure, many more masks, all of whom I love. You do things I don’t even know I need, and you surpass the expectations of the things that I do. As you feel endless with me, I feel endless with you. You make me dream bigger than what lives in this world, and I only want to continue exploring it by your side. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” From his pocket, Darius pulled out a sky-blue-jeweled ring. “It is the same one my father gave my mother.”

  “Oh, Darius.” Larkyra placed her hand to her mouth. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Somehow Boland kept it hidden all these years.”

  “I always thought he was a good man.”

  Darius’s responding smile was dazzling as he slipped the ring onto her shortened finger, and she fluttered her hand so it twinkled in the sunlight.

  “It matches your eyes,” he said.

  It did indeed, the exact ones that now were filled with tears. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. “The things you’ve seen of the Thief Kingdom, our connection there, those are just surface-level activities. And those masks of mine, there are many. Some even I have yet to discover.”

  “I look forward to getting to know them all, so long as each remains in love with me when worn.”

  Her heart swelled in her chest, her magic at one with her joy. Yet still, she needed to make sure . . . “It is not only me you are marrying.”

  Darius glanced around. “No? I didn’t realize there was more than one woman standing before me.”

  “You know that is not what I mean. My family,” she said. “They come as accessories, even though, the lost gods know, I’ve tried my hardest to pawn them over the years.”

  Darius grinned. “I know what I am committing myself to, Larkyra. I’ve always wanted a big family.”

  “It’s bigger than you think, and my father—”

  “Has given his blessing.”

  This had her swallowing her next words.

  “Yes, I sought his well-wishes before asking you. I am smarter than I look.”

  “Darius . . .” She choked on his name, not knowing why that meant more than any other romantic deed he could have done.

  “Now will you give me an answer?” He held her gaze. “My knee is starting to bruise on this stone.”

  She laughed and pulled him up. “Yes!” she said. “In every world and room hidden within Yamanu, yes.”

  “That is a lot of yeses.” He grinned.

  “Shall I take some back?”

  “Never!” Darius kissed her then, most likely to keep her from doing just that.

  Larkyra did not mind this tactic at all.

  She would set out to find more ways for Darius to apply the technique. Currently, however, she was happy to savor the Now, under the bright sun of a new home, wrapped in the arms of a man who saw and accepted all of her, even the parts not yet born.

  In this moment, Larkyra was not frightened of what might come Next. The idea of her future misted like gold dust along with her laugh. She was now like her magic: present and powerful and deliciously alive.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I come from a lineage of artists. My grandparents were artists, and my parents are artists. I was taught from a young age the importance of opening the mind, of watching and listening for inspiration, as it often can come from the most unlikely places. The Mousai Series is no exception. It started from two things: the echoing of a cane clicking down a long hallway as I sat in an office working late, and a painting my father did titled Muses, which was inspired by my sisters and me as well as an interpretation of Botticelli’s Primavera. Much like this tangling of inspiring seeds that would later grow into an epic world, many of the names and places in my books have been influenced by names and places in our world. Each was chosen for a reason: the feeling it evokes or its meaning or both. In the Mousai Series, every character’s and place’s name has been crafted or chosen with great care. This is the celebration of a diverse world. Below is an appendix of sorts, providing a background to my naming etymology.

  The Mousai: A neologism inspired by the plural word muses.

  Bassette: A surname, specifically of Dolion Bassette. Inspired by the word bassett from Old French, which means “someone of humble origins.”

  Dolion Bassette (Count of Raveet of the second house of Jabari and also the Thief King): The father of Arabessa, Niya, and Larkyra. Husband of Johanna. Thief King and a member of the Jabari Council. Dolion is a neologism derived from the Greek verb dolioo, meaning “to lure, to deceive.” I chose this for the many masks he must wear and roles he must play, from Jabari to the Thief Kingdom, as well as his most important role: father.

  Raveet is influenced by the name Ravneet, which has a few known origins, but I was inspired by the Indian Sanskrit origin, which means “morality like the sun.”

  Johanna Bassette: The wife of Dolion and mother of the Mousai. Gifted with very ancient and powerful magic. The name Johanna is connected to many cultures: German, Swedish, Danish, and Hebrew, to name a few. The original meanings of its root names are said to be “gift of God” and “gracious,” much like Johanna’s character.

  Mousai + Bassette daughters: I purposefully sought to create names that had tempo and lyricism to them, to connect to their magical gifts of song, dance, and music.

  Arabessa Bassette: The eldest sister. Arabessa is a neologism created from the name Bessa, cited in some places to be of Albanian origin, meaning “loyalty.”

  Niya Bassette: The middle sister. Inspired by the name Nia (Celtic and Swahili origins), meaning “purpose,” “radiance,” “shine,” and “beauty.”

  Larkyra Bassette: The youngest sister. Larkyra is a n
eologism created from the base word lark, which is a songbird. It is also inspired by the verb lark, which means “to behave mischievously” and “to have fun.”

  Zimri D’Enieu: Zimri is a Hebrew name meaning “my praise” or “my music.” D’Enieu is a neologism I created after being inspired by French surnames.

  Achak: A Native American name meaning “spirit.” When I learned of this name and meaning, I instantly fell in love and knew it embodied everything Achak was, from their history to how their spirit has lived on in many forms in many realms.

  Charlotte: The Bassette sisters’ lady’s maid and loyal caregiver. I wanted to choose a C name for her, connecting her to my mother, Cynthia.

  Kaipo (mutati hawk): Kaipo is a Hawaiian name meaning “sweetheart.” I adore this so much and felt it fit perfectly for Larkyra’s dearest companion and friend. A mutati animal in Aadilor myth is one that can change size, from very small to massive. Mutati is a neologism I created inspired by the root word “mutate.”

  Hayzar Bruin: Inspired by the Turkish name Hazar. Bruin is an English folk term for “bear,” but I chose it for its audible connection to the word “brute.” So by mixing the meaning of “bear” and “brute,” we essentially get “big brute,” which is certainly how I would categorize Hayzar.

  Darius Mekenna: From the Persian name Dariush, meaning “rich and kingly” and “he who holds firm to good.” Both very Darius characteristics. Mekenna is a variant spelling of an Irish and Scottish surname, which I wanted Darius to have because of his Lachlan heritage.

  Aadilor: The realm where everything exists. Aadilor is a neologism inspired by the word “lore,” which means “a body of traditions and knowledge passed from person to person by word of mouth.”

  Obasi Sea: The only sea in Aadilor. The language of origin for Obasi is Igbo and is said to mean “in honor of the supreme god” or “in honor of God.” I loved this meaning and how Obasi flows off the tongue like water. I saw this sea being named this in honor of the lost gods gifting their people such beauty to sail upon.

  Jabari: Aadilor’s capital city. The Swahili name Jabari, meaning “brave [one],” is derived from the Arabic word jabbār, meaning “ruler.”

  Esrom: An underwater sanctuary kingdom that can only be located by those who were born there. The name can be traced back to biblical times and in some texts is said to mean “dart of joy.”

  Lachlan: The land of Darius’s birth. The name is of Scottish origin, meaning “land of lakes,” which was perfect to name a territory filled with lakes stretching as far as the horizon.

  Imell: The main town of Lachlan Lake. A neologism, but it also is a little hidden nod to my father, whose name is Emil.

  Yamanu: The realm where all things that want to stay hidden reside. The name is derived from the ancient Egyptian Amon, which means “the hidden one.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It’s surreal indeed to be at this part of Song of the Forever Rains. The end end. The section that means the years of toiling and obsessing and changing pieces of this book are done. This story and characters have been swirling in my brain matter for so long it’s hard to remember a time they ever were not. And perhaps that’s the point—I’ve been living this fantasy since birth. It’s no secret that my family is a huge inspiration for this series, so perhaps that’s where I’ll begin—thanking my parents and sisters. Mom, Dad, Alexandra, Phoenix, and Kelsey, you were the best support system to grow up in. You were not only my parents and sisters but my tribe, my soul mates. Mom and Dad, your unwavering support, and your push for each of us to follow whichever crazy path our passion led us to, has created extremely powerful and compassionate individuals. To my sisters, you taught me the importance of female friendship, the unstoppable strength of unconditional love. You are my muses, woven delicately into each of the Bassette girls. Never let dim your spirit, your light, or your laughter. I love you dearly and forever.

  To my husband, Christopher, I often joke that I wrote you into existence with my redheaded Darius, and I stand by this. You met me four years ago, when this story was only a few chapters long, and you have supported me forward every second thereafter. Thank you for listening to my often-overbearing droning regarding these characters. Thank you for reading the very rough and embarrassing first draft and telling me how wonderful of a writer I am. Thank you for being endlessly patient (and sometimes not, helping me know when I need to take breaks). Thank you for making me believe I am worthy of my dreams and for allowing me to understand I can be my own hero in my story. You are my greatest wonder.

  To Aimee Ashcraft, my agent at Brower Literary, where to even start? You are the comforting weighted blanket to all my writing woes. You have tirelessly worked through every round of edits (and there were many!) to get this story to a place where others could see its potential. Thank you for always being my sounding board and for giving up precious hours on your weekends to get on the phone and listen.

  To Lauren Plude, my acquiring editor, who loved this book so much you demanded to be my content editor as well. If ever proof were needed of love at first listen, it is when you and I jumped on our first call and I heard your sweet voice and kind words. You have pushed my skills to new heights, and I am so incredibly excited for where we can soar to next.

  To the entire team at Montlake, it is the honest truth that I could not have done any of this without you. Since day one you have shown nothing but excitement and adoration for these sisters. I couldn’t imagine entrusting their care to any other publishing house.

  Natasha Miñoso, my beautiful, bighearted, book-obsessed companion. You have been there, jumping with excitement and encouragement, for every one of my books. I adore you endlessly and will forever have sleepovers where we wear matching pj’s.

  Staci Hart, just come over and hug me already. Talk about dedicated friendship. You have pulled me together again and again after many breakdowns, both writer and life related. I am constantly humbled by your brilliance and am so lucky to have you in my life.

  To all my friends from NYC, Colorado, and my hometown in Delaware, you have been with me on many aspects of this wild ride. Have understood when I dropped from existence to meet deadlines. To list all your names would fill half this book. But if you are reading this, you know exactly who you are. Thank you for supporting my dreams.

  To the Bookstagram community, you are massive and beautiful and a force. I could never have found my way here without you.

  To my Mellow Mob and Mellow Misfits, you have probably been the most patient out of everyone waiting for this book to finally come to life. Thank you for remaining with me through the years of promises that you could one day hold this story. I kept my word!

  And finally to you, my dearest reader—this has all been created for you. A world of people must work together to complete a book, but it only takes one reader for a book to find a home. I hope you have found a place for this story in your heart, for I certainly kept you in mine as I wrote it.

  CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE WITH A SAMPLE OF THE SECOND BOOK IN THE MOUSAI SERIES, DANCE OF A BURNING SEA, COMING FALL 2021

  PROLOGUE

  A pirate stood watching a man die.

  It was not an unusual occurrence given his profession, yet this time he’d had nothing to do with the matter.

  One might wonder what sort of macabre court invited guests to watch someone be tortured. The answer was quite simple: the Thief Kingdom’s. The crowd surrounding the pirate pushed closer, their ornate disguises poking into his worn leather coat, hungry for a better glimpse of the madness taking place in the center of the room. The smell of overperfumed bodies, sweat, and desperation crept under his mask, invading his nose. And not for the first time this evening he was reminded of where he stood: in the most ruthless and debasing kingdom in all of Aadilor, whose lenient laws invited large purses and larger fools. Trading secrets and heavy coin for nights of folly and sin.

  The pirate had attended tonight not only out of curiosity but also for his own ambitio
n. He had fought hard to build a new life after abandoning the old. And while his current existence mirrored little of what he’d left behind, that was rather the point. Now his decisions were entirely his own, no longer weighed down by history or expectations.

  At least these were the things he told himself.

  While he had not set out to become a pirate, he certainly didn’t see reason in fighting the delinquent those in his past thought him to be.

  After all, he had not been born a man to act in half measure.

  And so, he had commandeered a ship and recruited a crew to serve him. Now this, he thought, an opportunity to be the first pirate captain in the Thief King’s court.

  That constant ambitious hunger clawed a greedy beast in his chest, for he knew he would do everything in his power to secure the position. Even if a small part of him regretted entering the opulent black palace.

  His attention slid away from the cloaked and covered figures around him and back to the performance.

  The pirate had seen many die, but never in so beautiful a way as this.

  In the center of the onyx hall performed three women: singer, dancer, and violinist.

  A liquid-hot song and intoxicating rhythm expanded from them in a rainbow of colors, their threads of power hitting unceasingly against a prisoner chained in the middle, a whipping of notes punishing skin, but instead of screams of pain, the man moaned his pleasure.

  Here were goddesses incarnate, brought from the Fade to lure the living to the dead, for their powers spoke of old magic. A time when the gods were not lost, but when Aadilor had been awash in their gifts.

  Their costumes were lavish, spools of inky hues, beads braided into silks that dripped into feathers and embroidered lace. Ornate horned masks covered the trio’s identities. And though their performance was not directed at him, the pirate was still washed with a cold dew of desperation, still felt the strong pull of their magic.