Page 14 of Music of the Night
Her discomfort increased as she stared at the floor, moving one foot over the runes.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” I encouraged her. My body relaxed as I enjoyed the fact that she had not been enchanted by his magic. “What takes place in the theater is not for everyone.”
“No?” Now she met my eye again, a brow arched. “What about you? The halls are dark and mysterious, no one would know if you slipped on a mask and joined.”
I did not like her suggestion and my eyes narrowed as I studied her. “You could do the same.”
Her lips trembled and her shoulders tightened, but she recovered quickly. “The pleasures I enjoy cannot be found in the theater. I only asked because the winter ball approaches, and Count Zorik will throw a party for the lords and ladies in town.”
It bothered me, her being in the castle while such parties took place. I knew what happened behind closed doors, when darkness overtook the theater and the lords and ladies gave in to their dark urges. A sudden need to protect Aria rushed over me and I extended my hand. “If you wish to avoid it, come and sing with me.”
She smiled, a bright bold smile that set my heart at ease.
Once she left the tower, I followed and watched her ride down the path back to High Tower Castle, back to. . .well. . .there was nothing more terrible in the wood than I. Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited while she returned to relative safety. She wasn’t a threat, not yet, and I did not believe he’d do her any harm. I’d taken precautions to ensure he would not notice. But once she sang in the theater, once she took the lead, the battle would commence. Still, the more she returned the closer I came to losing control. The way she sang and moved, the threads of passion in her voice, the richness of it. It was like listening to the voice of an angel, and it reminded me of my lonely existence, of the past and what could be the future. Everything could be different, could change but I should not peer into her soul and crave her purity, her innocence when no redemption was left for me.
The very sound of her laughter was both enchanting and compelling. She spoke to me as though I were another human and there was no fear behind her words. If anything, I sensed her attraction to me and the flicker of disappointment when it was time for her to leave. It was the right thing to do, I couldn’t risk temptation to the destruction of all, but perhaps I could entertain her affections.
My scars burned as I returned to the tower, a reminder of what happened if I gave in to my desires. Instead of returning to the underground lagoon, I climbed the spiral staircase, uttering curses under my breath. I’d even taken the time to dress for her, and I shed my clothes until I wore a simple shirt and pants. Lowering myself to a chair, I buried my head in my hands, trying to remind myself of what I would gain if I succeeded.
The killings would cease and the accursed mist that hid High Tower would shatter. I’d feel the warmth of sunlight on my face, and my scars would no longer burn when I ventured too far from the tower. Normality would return, I could love again, live again, devote my life to more than simply music. I’d see the plants grow green in the forest, and the woodland creatures would return. Was it too much to ask for a normal life?
It was easier to think without her there, without her scent imbuing the air, without her gentle feminine presence reminding me of what I’d never had and desperately wanted. Time and again I’d come so close to tasting her lips, full and smooth, begging me to take them, taste them, crush them, consume her. And the way she sang, her gift was unlike any other. She had potential, and I wanted more. I understood her need to sing but why had she promised me anything, everything in exchange?
Falling to my knees, I opened a trunk, releasing the musty scent of old material. I took out the print, the designs for a mask, one I’d need for later. I had to take another trip to High Tower Castle, there were more materials I needed to gather.
12
Aria
The day of the winter ball I snuck out before supper was served, ignoring the warnings of the coming foul weather. I’d be back before midnight, before the wild storms crept over the waters and ravaged the shoreline. This time I was wise and not only brought a blanket for Beauty but also a bag of oats.
The tower seemed to await my presence. The door opened as it if sensed my coming, and the vines curled around the stones, lengthening and growing thick to shut out the cold. It was dark inside, and the music had yet to begin. Pulse pounding, I waited until the first note played, and with it came a glow. The candles lit themselves.
It was as Samara had warned me, but the tower wasn’t haunted, it merely lay under an enchantment, a spell. Only the music held sway over it.
Branches grew near the door, holding themselves out like hands to take my cloak, scarf and gloves. I unfastened my boots as well and pulled on my satin slippers, knowing I would dance, knowing I would sing. Moving to the center of the circle, I waited for the music to fill me up, to take over, like a current pulling me swiftly downstream. My legs quivered in anticipation.
The power of the music struck me like a wave, overflowing and surging through me. A cry of surprise, of yearning, of desire burst from my lips. Palpable emotions furled out of the music, but instead of dancing, a song burst out of my throat. Sharp pain radiated across my body. I felt it all the way in my toes, the silent scream awakened every sense and hurled me back to a memory of the day my father died…
The manor house was silent, the ominous fingers of death stretching out. It lingered around that place now, holding tight, refusing to let go. Panic squeezed my heart, for in the days since my father’s decline, everyone had turned their back on us. The servants left, aware there would be no wages, the ladies I once called friends now whispered about me behind my back, and worst of all, the letter I’d sent to Count Zorik had not been answered. He would not come for me. I was alone, with only a few pennies left, and I did not know what to do.
A boom sounded from downstairs, the doors thrown open. Already? It was only a few days after I’d buried my father. Surely it wasn’t the debtors. My limbs trembled in fear, for I’d heard of what happened to ruined families. Everything was taken from them and often members of the household sold as eternal servants to pay off their debts. They were expected to work without privilege, belonging to their new Master or Mistress, body and soul. My stomach heaved at the thought of being taken against my will. If they could not find me, they wouldn’t sell me.
Heart in my throat I slipped down the hall, and a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. A squeak of dismay left my lips and stale breath with remnants of brandy blew into my mouth. The man forced me downstairs to meet with the others, five or six of them, and they gathered near, eyes dancing, like vultures about to feast.
Falling to my knees, I clasped my hands together.
“Please,” I begged, “have mercy! I have no where to go, no one to take me in.”
But they closed around me, hungry, interested until one knelt before me. Using cold fingers he lifted my chin to his hard gaze. A sour scent hung on his breath and his beady eyes flickered down, examining my body. When he spoke the air froze. “Aria, what a slight for someone so young and vulnerable. Come, I have a position at my manor house, an easy one. In fact, I will pay you for your services and you’ll have a clean, dry place to sleep and food for your belly.”
But I knew about that house, had seen the marks and bruises he left. Fear rose in me and I pulled back. Another lord squeezed my shoulder in a manner that was supposed to be sympathetic. “Aye, you should take the position, it will be the best you can do.”
“Where else would a young lady such as yourself go?”
Another touched my hair, almost pulling it.
“For a pretty young one such as yourself, the brothel would do.”
