The Fae Serenade.
I open my mouth and begin to sing.
The sound that leaves my throat is a low, ethereal hum. A soft flowing Fae melody that carries no words, only a rhythmic warmth which carries a soothing resonance. Almost like a gentle breeze rustling through a forest, one that is steady and calm.
Beside me, I watch as the tight, rigid lines of King Sven’s jaw slowly begin to relax. His breathing deepens, matching the slow tempo of my Serenade.
He shifts slightly, now resting his head on my chest. And it makes my heart skip a beat, but I do not stop serenading him.
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