Page 23 of Music of the Night
“I will.” I squeezed his hand. Although the problem of his task, his bondage to the tower had not been resolved, I felt a lightness within.
“I have a new song for you to learn tonight, one I wrote myself.”
“I’d be honored.” I flushed, almost cowed at the idea of learning one of his songs.
“You’ve heard it before and it may be too soon, but I’d like to hear your voice. You’ve surprised me thus far, I wouldn’t be surprised if this came to you naturally too.”
I licked my lips and stood tall. “What is the meaning behind the song?”
“The meaning,” Uriah repeated, stroking his chin. He stretched out his arms. “It is a call to life, to awaken, to come into being.”
He looked strong and powerful standing there, arms spread. It was easy to believe he wasn’t mortal at all, that the magic that flowered from his voice was a gift from the gods. My heart ached just staring at him and I decided, then and there, I’d come clean to Samara and enlist her help. Surely the library of High Tower Castle held works, research, a history on what had happened in High Tower. For I wondered if, like in old fables, High Tower was cursed by gray mist. Surely if there was a curse, there was also a way to break it. I could not believe I was thinking such things. Aria of Solynn, the merchant’s daughter, full of life and energy and vibrance, one of the most sought after hands in the city until the ruin of my family name. And now I was in a remote town, plotting to break a curse.
“I’ll wait while you compose your thoughts,” Uriah quipped.
Startled, I jerked my head up, realizing I’d been staring off at nothing at all. I clasped my hands in front of me. “I’m ready now.”
“Repeat after me,” he instructed and opened his mouth.
His rich deep voice was wild and haunting as he sang a song I’d heard before in a language I could not understand. It captured me, infusing me, and when I added my voice to the song, the very air shivered and danced. I had to close my eyes and dig deep, searching for a poignant, powerful memory. I did not want to pull upon pain to inspire my voice to sing, but when I reached for the depths of my emotions, the pain of my father’s passing was too powerful, too strong, too gripping and almost rendered me speechless. I struggled, grasping to regain my voice as Uriah went on. Deep and compelling. I imagined him as a knight waving his sword, striking down wave after wave of monsters.
I opened my eyes and watched the ardent passion in his face as he sang. Music was his muse, his first love, his passion, that much was clear, and as I thought of how we’d made love, his lips on mine, skin on skin, the song poured out of me with an abundance of feeling. I lifted my arms and let the sound pour from deep inside me, until it felt like a wave, thrumming up from the bottom of my feet.
It cascaded out of me in ripples as I followed Uriah’s lead, my voice leaping and dipping.
“Again,” he cried, and started over.
I joined him with a confidence I’d never experienced before. Somehow, someway, he’d healed me, awakened me, and although I reached for sorrow, the burden of it had lessened, now that he was there. Astonishingly, my furious longing to sing in the theater had abated, not because I did not want to, but because I’d found something better, something pure. Love. Singing to the applause of an audience seemed hollow compared to the magic that soared out of me with Uriah. This, this was true life, true happiness, true transcendence.
No sooner had I thought it, than a flash of blood-red caught my eye. I turned, almost breaking the note as the plants on the table sprouted and grew as we sang. The first bud bloomed, a bright red rose, a promise of love. That’s when I realized I was singing alone. The deep tones of Uriah’s baritone had faded away, and it was I who woke the roses and brought them to life.
20
Uriah
“Ihave a gift for you,” I told her.
After she’d made the flowers bloom with her voice, I’d brought her up to my lair, to rest. Now she leaned back in the furs of my bed, sipping a cup of tea as she regained her strength. I had to remind myself, no matter how magnificent her voice and the wonders she created with it, she was only mortal and needed to recover. Still, she progressed much further than I could have imagined and I’d noticed something new in her song. The raw pain had faded, and she sang with a confidence even I, with all my experience, had yet to master. I’d have to question her about it later.
“For me?” She sat up, eyes alert, pressing a hand to her chest.
I followed her movement, my gaze lingering on her generous bosom. I wanted to unravel the clothing that bound her and take her again and again. From the darkening in her eyes, I knew she wanted me to.
Going to the chest, I lifted out a box with the items I’d spent the last two weeks perfecting for her. Aside from music, I still dabbled in blacksmithing, and my skills had come in handy once again. She sat up, alert now as I crossed the small space and sat down beside her, offering her the gift.
She gasped, eyes wide as she glanced from me to the box. It fit in the palm of her hands, and I liked the way her eyes brightened as she opened it. Her mouth formed into an “O” as she lifted out the necklace with a jewel at the end. Her lips trembled and her eyes shone with tears.
I still had a handful of crystals from the mine, from before, when it was thriving and full of life. I’d taken the biggest ruby I could find, glistening and blood-red, carved and polished it until it shone before fitting it into a necklace for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, reaching blindly for me. “It is beautiful. This must have cost a fortune…”
She trailed off as I took it from her hands and opened the clasp to fit it around her neck. “It was crafted with love, for you,” I told her somberly.
It fit perfectly, hovering just above her breasts. She touched it for a moment, before throwing her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it?” Her breath caught. “I love it, especially because it came from you.”
