Songs of Vice

SONGS OF VICE NICOLE BAILEY This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Copyright © 2023 by Nicole Bailey All rights reserved. Edited by Milly Bellegris and Natalie Cammaratta Sensitivity Read by Janani Vaidya Cover Design by Beholden Book Covers Map design by Chaim Holtjer www.authornicolebailey.com CONTENTS Content Warnings Map Prologue 1. Lira 2. Sai 3. Neia 4. Lira 5. Neia 6. Lira 7. Sai 8. Lira 9. Neia 10. Lira 11. Sai 12. Neia 13. Margo 14. Lira 15. Neia 16. Sai 17. Lira 18. Neia 19. Sai 20. Lira 21. Margo 22. Neia 23. Lira 24. Sai 25. Lira 26. Sai 27. Lira 28. Sai 29. Neia 30. Lira 31. Sai 32. Neia 33. Lira 34. Sai 35. Lira 36. Sai 37. Margo Bonus Content Acknowledgments CONTENT WARNINGS Songs of Vice depicts issues including alcoholism, graphic death, and xenophobia. Songs of Vice also includes mentions of child neglect, homophobia, lesbophobia, and cisgenderism. The book also contains strong language and explicit sexual content. I hope readers will find that I’ve handled these topics with sensitivity. However, I wished to include a note for anyone who may find this content triggering. MAP A full size map can be found at: http://authornicolebailey.com/songsmap A character name pronunciation guide can be found at: https://www.authornicolebailey.com/songspronunciation * * * A jewel filled with dark magic sits in moonlight, the ragged edges sparkling and reflecting on the wood. The man stares at it. If he takes it, he could unleash wars, destroy fairy courts, and begin a chain of events he doesn’t yet understand. A beat of hesitation passes. He knows this is a bad idea. Yet, he has his reasons. He releases a sigh, and with it the indecision rushes out of him. He snatches the jewel and runs. CHAPTER ONE LIRA The weight of the blade strapped to my ankle burned against my flesh. I licked my lips and brushed my sweaty palms against the lace of my dress. No more time for hesitations. This was finally my chance for freedom. I took a step forward and frowned at my pearl-lined slippers. They looked dreadful pressed against ebony dirt instead of the polished wood floors the cobbler had meant for them to trod upon. I suppose it didn’t matter because he also hadn’t crafted them for a soon-to-be-murderess, but here they were. Music from the show buzzed through the air. Mediocre. Not that the sirens in our group could truly unleash their talents. It would probably kill the entire population of this abysmal town. And it would definitely draw the attention our troupe avoided. Night had fallen, and stars danced across the sky in the distance. Half the moon peeked behind scrambling tree limbs. In a few weeks the blood moon would appear, then the monsoons would come. Our slow time. This was one of our last performances of the season. The makeshift stage we’d crafted the previous day glowed in lantern light with a crowd huddled around it utterly entranced. The sirens in our group were careful to only use a wisp of their powers, of course. Fae would be drawn towards us if we left too much of a trace of magic. Then someone might find out that our troupe was more than a traveling music show—that we lived illegally among humans, feeding off them. That would cause trouble, and the only one allowed to cause trouble was my mother. My nose wrinkled at that. I could feel her watching me from behind the tarps that covered the backstage, waiting to see if I’d follow through. I took another step over the muck and hissed as mud smeared the silk of my slipper. A note peeled past my lips, and ice crawled over the ground in lacy patterns. Shit. I looked back over my shoulder. Mother’s pale blue eyes tightened, deepening the wrinkles over her fair skin, but she didn’t march towards me, snatch my wrist, or growl through her teeth, you’re not a fledgling anymore, Lirasei. You should have better control over your powers by now. So she must not have seen my slip with the ice. Loose ends are trouble, I could hear her saying, and I shivered. I shifted back towards the throng. Crowds in small farming villages always had a strong smell to them—hay and sweat and sour milk and the charcoal-tang of fires mingled with the earthy smell of animals. A handful of men pressed close to the edge of the stage beneath the draping branches of an oak tree. Their eyes widened as they watched Margo sweep across the stage, her velvet gown rippling behind her. Easy targets. The one's Mother might go for. I scoffed. I wanted her to believe my choice, but I wouldn’t go that low. Tonight, I would finally be brave rather than the weak and trembling Lira some others in our group whispered about. Are you sure she’s Palaria’s daughter? Could there have been a mix-up? I wished their gossip was true. The magic grew in me like a tumor. It strengthened by the day and made it clear I was the daughter of Palaria, even if I’d proved a disappointment. It showed I was the only one with her blood and therefore the only one who could take her weakening magic without diluting it. Unfortunately, sirens could only birth one child and always a daughter. I was Palaria’s sole heiress. I brushed my thumb over my arm where Mother had inked a mark of magic that designated me as her inheritor. These cruel powers were