Page 10 of Music of the Night
Invisible fingers pulled me into the room and spun me around, closing the door behind me. My hat was tugged off my head and my scarf unwound. Before I quite knew what had happened, I stood in the middle of the room, while the candles danced. It was in that moment I knew there was something in the tower, something very much alive. But I did not know whether what had awakened was compelled by the music or something else. Unease went down my spine, and I couldn’t shake the sensation that I was trespassing.
The music continued, the pace growing frantic while I stood in the center of the circle, my eyes on the staircase. The candles were lit, as usual, and yet seemed to float. Slender white candles alight with a pale yellow glow. Red and pink rose petals covered the floor, slightly curled as though they started to dry up and then thought the better of it. Thick vines grew around the stones, ivy that wound its way up, twisting around the staircase.
My breath caught as I watched those vines, for they moved like snakes, gliding and sliding in undulating waves, up and down the stairs, clinging to the walls, watching me with dark mistrusting eyes.
I clutched my arms around my waist and wished I hadn’t come. The tower was haunted and foreboding without Uriah there to tame it. The music which seemed so sensual and beautiful from afar seemed to watch, to keep guard, to make the tower alert. Yes, that’s what it was. The very walls were alive and breathing.
I tried to calm myself, tried to breathe, but my eyes were pulled again and again to the staircase. What if I took a risk and climbed them? What if I saw Uriah play? No sooner had the thought grown in my mind, I heard another note. His voice. It was low and wild, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. The knots in my belly loosened. I lifted my arms and rose on my toes as best I could in my thick-soled boots. Music swirled like the waves of the ocean until I was no longer in command of my own body. I spun, I twirled, and my feet moved to the rhythm. I danced to the music, a song of longing and loneliness, a sentiment I could echo, of bondage, of a thrist for release… Knowing it would never happen.
I opened my mouth, and my voice sprang out, high and wild like the cry of a beast. I arched my body, rising and falling with the music, while my voice did the same. The grip of night fell over the tower like a blanket, and only the candlelight remained. The music faded, and I collapsed on the stone to catch my breath.
It was silent. The madness that took over the tower had ended. The spell that had captivated me loosened its hold, and the compulsion to sing and dance faded away. I took deep shuddering breaths to calm myself. My hair hung in loose waves, my clothes were disheveled, and at some point, I’d tossed my cloak aside. It lay on the stairs, covered in petals.
“You came.”
Those two words sent a shiver of excitement racing through my veins. Warmth spread through my lower belly as I rose to my feet and turned to greet him. He stood on the stairs like a statue, eyes wide, lips slightly parted as he stared at me. His white shirt was open, sleeves rolled up and his dark hair unruly. I glimpsed the rawness of his emotion before he clenched his jaw, hiding his surprise. Yet there was no anger in his movements, only caution.
Brushing my hair away from my face, I swallowed. “Yes. It is the date. One week from the last lesson.”
He glanced around the room as though searching for something. “So it is, but you are early.”
“I…” Well, there was no use lying to him. “I wanted to hear you play. The music compelled me.”
His eyebrows arched up, and he studied me, a rosy glow appearing on his cheeks. Or perhaps it was just the flicker of flame. “And you are… well?”
Well? Aside from the breathless fluttering sensation in my chest I felt fine. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He moved down another step until he stood on the main level, and yet he appeared hesitant to approach me. Was he suddenly shy because I’d been in the tower while he played?
“It felt alive,” I said, attempting to dispel the awkwardness in the air. “Like it controlled some part of me. I wanted to sing and dance endlessly while it played. It is magic, isn’t it?”
I expected a reaction from him, but he shook his head. “No, and yes. I admit I am surprised the music allowed you to enter, that it did not destroy you. It isn’t meant for mortals.”
Mortals? I shifted, suddenly it was cold in the room and I hugged my arms to myself. “What do you mean? I hear the music every evening.”
“Most do.” He moved nearer. “It doesn’t frighten you, but it should. Do you come to sing or because you are curious about me?” He pressed his hand to his heart and glided nearer until he towered over me.
Sandalwood and candle wax filled the air along with a hint of cinnamon. And was that cloves? My lips parted as his presence momentarily stunned me into silence. It was like a shadowed cloak wrapped around me, pulled me in, dragging me deeper and I wanted, nay, craved to know the depths of who he was, to peel back layers of mystery and gain answers. Although deep down I knew it did not matter who my instructor was, only that he taught me.
“I’m curious,” I admitted. “You’re mysterious. I’d like to know more about my instructor.”
His eye hardened as a frown slid over his face, hiding the confusion and embarrassment I’d seen earlier. When he spoke it was gruff, distant, as though I’d crossed an unknown barrier with my words. “Does it matter?” he demanded.
I bit my bottom lip and stepped back, putting more space between us. “Nay.”
But he went on. “What do you know about the town of High Tower? Of the tragedy that struck? Of the lure of the theater and the spell that music weaves around us all? Do you ever wonder why Count Zorik seeks to entertain? He wants the people to forget what happened, leave the past behind and focus only on the future.” A bitter laugh broke from his throat. “Am I the only one who remembers?”
I studied him, the hunch of his broad shoulders, the scarring around his hidden eye. A tragedy? I’d been so wrapped up in my grief I had not considered the history of High Tower. No one spoke of the past, only of the theater and music and the exciting galas. But Uriah knew more. Did he think me spoiled and stupid to yearn to do nothing more than sing? Did he judge my lust for the applause of an audience and to aspire to greatness?
Blinking hard, I swallowed down my insecurity. “Will you tell me?”
He pursed his lips. “I suppose it would be better to hear from me than the gossip that floats around High Tower Castle. It is not that I am angry with you, Aria.”
The way he spoke my name was like the sweetest note and something within me gave. I thought again of Count Zorik’s words, the way he placed his hand on mine as though I were a possession and belonged to him to do with as he pleased. It repulsed me and yet I couldn’t help but want Uriah to step closer, to touch me. I would relish his caress, his attention. Perhaps that was why I sought him out. I gravitated toward the dark and mysterious, and he was just that. Heat flamed my cheeks as reminders of my sensual dreams came to me, along with the knowledge that if Uriah entered my chambers while I slept, I’d welcome him.
Uriah’s quiet voice interrupted my thoughts. “Time for conversation will come later, but since you are here, let us begin.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
