Page 25 of Music of the Night
The fire flickered to life as Samara placed another log on it. Wiping her hand on her apron, she faced me again and took my hands. “Aria, you’ve been so sad since you’ve arrived here, and now, I see that you’re happy. But isn’t it enough? You can sing now, the Count won’t send you away, you’ve got everything you wanted.”
Everything I wanted. No, it wasn’t true anymore. I had everything I’dthoughtI’d wanted before I met Uriah.
“Will you take me to the library?” I asked. “I need to learn more about the history of High Tower. Tomorrow, wake me early and we’ll go during daylight.”
Samara’s face fell. “You’re going to pursue this, aren’t you?”
“I need to know the truth.”
“I told you the truth and you don’t believe me.”
My shoulders slumped. I did not want to drive away my one friend. “But there’s more, surely there is more.”
“If I help you, will you promise to stop this nonsense? No more sneaking out to see the ghost and sing in that haunted tower?”
The fear in her eyes made me wish I hadn’t told her anything, and yet how could I stay away? My very soul called out to his and the bitterness of that music. No, I had to dig deep, to find out what had happened in High Tower. “If you are right and he turns out to be a monster, I will stop,” I told her, because she needed some reassurance and I knew there was no possibility of Uriah being a monster, or causing death.
Samara’s eyes narrowed as she studied me and then rose. “Okay then. Come. It is time to dress.”
My gown beautifully combined lace and gold glitter. Unlike the costumes of the dancers, this one swept the floor, and although it molded to my figure when I looked in the mirror, I felt wealthy and beautiful and confident. Samara curled my hair and pinned it up, leaving some to drape over one shoulder, with a single red rose in my hair. I left the necklace on for it matched, the liquid glimmer of ruby catching the light.
“Lovely.” Samara touched the jewel, then snatched her hand away as though she’d been stung. “Which admirer gave you this one?”
I smiled, although it rang hollow inside. “I thought it matched well.”
“It does,” Samara agreed. “Are you ready?”
I swallowed hard. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
We went down the passageways to the theater and instead of joining the others in the dressing room, I was given a private room. I stood there, eyes closed, warming up my voice as Uriah had taught me. The production began with a burst of song, and I glided behind the curtain to await my cue. I tried not to fidget, my fingers stroking the necklace. A sudden memory of my mother returned, her dark curls around her smiling face as she sang for my father.
Taking a deep breath, I allowed peace to fill me until a movement caught my eyes. A shadow flickered and the air chilled. Turning away from the curtain I peered into the darkness for I had an uncanny sensation that someone was watching me. Why? I could not tell, but I saw nothing in the shadows and I pushed the sudden anxiety away. It was just nerves, that was all.
Before I could investigate further, the curtain opened, just a sliver. My cue. Gathering myself, I raised my head and walked out onto the stage to thunderous applause. Trepidation faded as the spotlight shone upon me. I opened my mouth and sang.
The song took over until I was not myself, not a living, breathing, being, but music in and of itself. Every note, every chord throbbed through me while the skilled musicians played. I sang with an emotion that was fresh, poignant, powerful. It washed over me like a wave, and when the last note left my lips, I stood in the middle of a stage, arms spread wide, a halo of light glowing around me while the audience stood, a blur of faces roaring in enthusiasm. The room whirled and I stumbled, taken aback from both the strength of my emotion and the response of the audience.
The magic of my song hung in the air and once again I had not pulled my song from a place of pain, but of love. A wave of faintness passed over me, but I had the presence of mind to give a deep bow as roses peppered the stage. I backed away to safety of the curtain, ducking behind it to rest.
22
Aria
Ever since opening night, my room was filled with flowers, gifts and letters from admirers. It was nice to escape my room and walk the silent halls in daylight. My slippers whispered on stones and although gas lamps lit up the dark halls, shadows of evil drifted around every corner. I shouldn’t have been frightened in daylight, yet my heart thumped so loudly, I was sure Samara could hear it. Pushing the heavy library doors open, we stole inside to a bone cold room shrouded in gloom.
“No one comes here,” Samara whispered as she moved around the room, lighting lamps and disturbing the dust. When she yanked open the heavy curtains hiding a bay window, the frowning interior of the library appeared.
I tilted my head back, taking in the rows of shelves that reached high above my head and the grotesque statues that posed at the corner of shelves. Women—half human, half fish—with their bosoms bare, peeking out from reeds and vines. Squat little men with fat noses, long beards and pointed hats on their heads. Shivering, I turned in a small circle, eyes widening. Most of the shelves were empty.
“Why would they?” I said to myself, for the theater was the main attraction. No one bothered reading when delights and pleasure could be had before and after a sensual performance. “I’d thought, though, more books would be here.”
“I don’t like this.” Samara came to stand beside me, staring about the square room.
“Me either,” I admitted. “We won’t stay long though.”
I moved to the nearest shelf and choose a book at random. It was old, musty, and the title had faded. It fell open and black letters covered the page, words I did not understand. Brow furrowing, I returned it, and pulled another, and yet another. Frustration mounted as my search proved futile and it wasn’t until Samara touched my sleeve that I stopped.
“Aria, we should return.”
