Page 165 of The Kiss Of Death
“I hate to break it to you, but neither one of you has been behaving as friends unless friends eye-fuck each other across every room.”
I groaned in frustration.
“So, hurry up and ace that audition, so you’ll be free of mind to do whatever you want with him, and I’ll have my friend back. The one who doesn’t bring her music sheet to watch my archery practice nor wake me up in the middle of the night with a headlamp to scramble notes.”
I pouted, folding my arms. “Hey! I also brought you food that day. You’re just being grumpy.”
She obviously laughed, and I sighed.
“It’s just… What if I’m not enough? What if everything I did is still not enough?”
She smiled. “You worked hard for it. Have a little faith in yourself, okay?”
Faith.She’s right. I can never lose hope.
I rushed to my feet and strangled her into a hug as Baron rubbed himself on us in a cuddling mood. “If I’m part of the orchestra, I’ll buy you your favorite book series with my first paycheck.”
“You better, and it better be in hardback.” She grinned.
Iwas one of the last students to audition.
I had an hour to wait backstage until it was my turn, and each second stretched like an eternity—foot tapping nervously, hands trembling, teeth biting nails, heart thumping against my ribs. I wore a long black dress with lace, my silver ribbon tightening my hair into a ponytail.
After a decade of silence, the opera stage would soon be filled with music again, and I was on the verge of tears.What if I freeze? What if I see those skull masks again? What if I fail my only chance?The tremors wracking my body were intensified by the distant strains of Gunther’s piano. Even in his first year, he would surely succeed.
The door groaned open, and Levi’s voice pierced through. “How are you—”
Before he could finish, I flung myself into his arms, squeezing him tight.
“I’m so scared.” My voice quivered. “It feels like I’m about to live my nightmares all over again.”
“Dalia,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”
With his finger, he tilted my head up to him, his touch a chilling contrast to the heat coursing through my veins.
“You waited ten years for this.” I drowned myself in his stormy gaze that captured mine. “You’re strong. This is your revenge.”
I shook my head, the fear tightening its grip on my insides. “Lucie’s not here. Mom’s not here. Everything is wrong.”
“No, look.” He retrieved a violin case from his bag and placed it on the dressing table. “I wanted to give it to you at Christmas. I was waiting for the right moment.”
I furrowed my brow and reached for the case. With trembling hands, I unlatched it, revealing the treasure within. My eyes widened, the pounding of my heart echoing in my ears.
“It’s…”
My fingers grazed the curves of the black violin. A violin made from ancient wood from the Violin Forest. A wood so dark, with a varnish so black, you’d think it was cursed. Cracks had been meticulously repaired, but some scars remained on the bout. The edges of its waist were sharper than other violins. It felt masculine. Tormented. Somber. Despite its bruises, the violin was still the most beautiful and gracious instrument I had ever seen, with a nostalgic scent of resin and old tree sap.
I would recognize that violin anywhere.
The one with the tale of the black swan’s feather that had gifted this violin with its unique, magical sound.
The violin that mended broken hearts.
“The Cigno Nero,” I breathed, my fingers shaking. “But how?”
He had put all the pieces back together, repairing what five years ago had cost us.
“It should be yours. I know what it means to you,” he said as I cradled the instrument to my chest. “You wanted to play for your mother in this opera, and for my mother with the Cigno Nero.”
