Page 152 of The Dark Mirror

‘I can use the swell boxes to soften the sound.’

When I was a child, I had sung all the time. My grandfather had called meéinín an cheoil.

And then my teachers at Ancroft had got to me, making me afraid to speak, let alone sing. Even after I had left school and moved to Seven Dials, I hadn’t often been able to practise. I had shared a wall with Jaxon, and he would have given me a clip on the ear for annoying him.

But I loved to sing, even if I rarely did. And I couldn’t refuse this chance to be close to Arcturus.

‘All right.’ I approached, the temptation growing. ‘Did you have a song in mind?’

‘Anything you wish. I will adapt.’

I had to think about it. Now the possibility of singing was there, I hardly knew what to choose.

‘You played a song on your gramophone in Magdalen,’ I eventually said. ‘It’s just a short one, but I’ve always liked it. I heard it when I woke up after Gallows Wood.’

‘I know it well.’ Arcturus nodded to the bench. ‘Do sit, if you wish.’

I perched on the end. This was the closest we had been since he rebuffed me in Venice. This time he let me stay there, my hip barely a handspan from him.

He eased one of the pedals down with his boot, closing the gilded shutters above us, before he glanced at me for approval. When I gave him a nod, he began. The music sounded quieter, with the swell boxes containing it, but it worked for the song.

Arcturus was such a gifted musician, I suddenly felt self-conscious at the thought of accompanying him. He had been honing his ability for two centuries. I tried to remember the techniques of singing – how to breathe, the correct posture – but I knew it was all about to fly out of my head. Before I could lose my nerve, Arcturus had finished the introduction, and I let the song pour out of me.

In the gloaming, oh my darling, when the lights are dim and low

And the quiet shadows, falling, softly come and softly go

The opening had been a little rusty, but Arcturus played with such power that I could only lift my voice to match him, my vocal cords warming at once. His variation of ‘In the Gloaming’ was slower than the one I was used to, but I soon worked out his cadence and settled into it.

I had unintentionally started with an English accent. Back at Ancroft, that was the only way I had ever been allowed to sing, or the Schoolmistress would rebuke me. Now I corrected my course, shaping the words as I pleased.

When the winds are sobbing faintly with a gentle unknown woe

Will you think of me and love me, as you did once, long ago?

Perhaps this had been a poor choice of song. I was already too aware of Arcturus. I kept going, swept along by his music and theexhilaration I found in singing again, after so long. The last time we sat together at an organ, wrapped in the candlelight of Magdalen, he had confessed to hearing me in my memories – murder ballads at the market, parting voyants from their coin – but this was the first time I had shown him my voice in the present.

In the gloaming, oh my darling, think not bitterly of me

Though I passed away in silence, left you lonely, set you free

For my heart was crushed with longing, what had been could never be

A knot was forming in my throat. I still managed to belt out the ending.

It was best to leave you thus, dear, best for you and best for me

It was best to leave you thus, dear, best for you and best for me

Arcturus brought the song to a close. The echoes of his music faded, leaving only the sound of my breath.

‘You have a magnificent voice, Paige.’

I managed a smile. ‘Don’t lay it on too thick, now.’

‘I would not pay you an insincere compliment.’ He regarded me. ‘Why are you so fond of this song?’

‘It’s about doing the right thing for someone you love,’ I said. ‘Even if hurts.’

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