Reverently, he brought my hand to his lips again and held it there for a long moment, as if to compose himself. I waited, my pulse quickening until he finally began, staring off into the light as he spoke.
“As I told you before, my father was a blacksmith and I learned the trade from him. My mother died of the fever when I was too young to remember her. Looking back now, I think it broke my father, making him rough and unforgiving. Violence was his way, and although I loved music, he was intent on beating it out of me. When I was thirteen, I ran away to join a troupe and learned to sing and perform. I was good at it, but when the troupe came back to town, my father caught me. He gave me the worst beating of my life, and when I was recouping, the knights came to town.”
He paused, the glint of memory shining in his eye. “I still recall that day. They rode in on giant horses, their armor glittering in light. My father sold me to one as a squire, and I was angry. But eventually I came to enjoy the lifestyle. The knights traveled, fought monsters, saved damsels in distress, and at last, ventured to the queen’s court.”
My brow furrowed. “What queen? I know of kings who reigned but not a queen?”
A strange look crossed his face, and he grew still. “No, and you wouldn’t. She was a powerful mage. As her power grew, so did the knights in her service.” He paused. “After I became a knight, I met the man you knew as Count Zorik.”
I gasped, I couldn’t help it, although I’d assumed they knew each other.
He pressed his lips together, eye guarded. “He and I are similar, not as young as we appear. Immortality will do that to one.”
My heart kicked at the revelation. “You are immortal?” I repeated. Just how many years had he dwelled in High Tower? Waiting, longing to break the spell of sorcery? I moved closer to him, pity and sorrow twisting within me.
“Aye.” He tilted his head, studying me. “I am a Sorcerer of Music.”
“Oh,” the word rolled off my tongue.
He leaned forward, an intensity in his eye. “Aria, I am not a good man. My soul is haunted and my yearning for magic overruled all. My own pain and sorrow I brought upon myself.”
I wanted to tell him I did not care about all that, but I closed my mouth, for I did not know the entire story yet. “Go on.”
Rolling back his shoulders, he stared off again. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Zorik and I became friends. Of a sort. We fought together, rousting our own company. The queen gave us free rein, and we traveled to cities and towns, seeking battle, causing chaos, searching for adventure and fame and glory. I admit, we were not good men because we had magic and power, and it went to our heads. We left much sorrow behind, for Zorik enjoyed pleasure and I sought music, and we did not care who we hurt or cheated or killed to get what we wanted. Gold flowed aplenty until the queen heard of the chaos we caused in her kingdom and she banished us from her realm to High Tower. It was, then, as you know it now, a fishing town, small, remote, with an old castle and watchtower. There were miners and monsters, and we were sent to guard the tunnels and fight the monsters so the miners could work in peace.”
I held up a finger as I caught the threads of his tale. “From her realm?” I all but whispered. How funny, I hadn’t believed in the supernatural before, but now I’d seen with my own two eyes, experienced it, lived it. And a sorcerer sat at my bedside, telling me a dark tale of magic and death.
33
Aria
Uriah twirled a finger through a strand of my hair, angling his face toward mine. “What is it about you that makes me spill my story, share my sordid past without fear? Any other would have gone running, screaming of gods and ghosts into the night, yet you remain.”
“You know why,” I told him. Surely, he knew how my heart felt about him.
His eye darkened, and he moved closer still, his lips hovering above mine until I caught his scent. It had changed to notes of amber and other, rich spices. Intoxicating, compelling, and when his lips closed over mine, it felt like heaven. I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation, the taste of him, until he pulled back.
I missed his warmth and closeness instantly.
“Your spirit, Aria, is captivating. You’ve never been frightened of me, even when I tried to scare you away. You know that I’m a sorcerer and yes, I am not from this world, this land, but from another realm. As the ultimate punishment for our deeds, Zorik and I were sent here. The separation from everything we knew and loved and understood was supposed to break us, teach us a lesson. But we did not learn. Down there in the dark and damp and gloom we had plenty of time to let our minds run wild. The monsters, the blood and gore drove us mad, but we knew enough about magic to create an arcane spell. It was supposed to return us to our realm. Instead, we called down a terrible sorceress who cursed us.
“Ironically, she gave us our greatest desires. Zorik became the Sorcerer of Pleasure and I, the Sorcerer of Music. However, we were bound to High Tower and our greatest desires would cause us pain until we learned a lesson. Finally, she took an eye from each of us and replaced it with a golden one. Everywhere we went, the people feared us, calling us the gods with golden eyes.”
I gasped and pressed a hand to my lips, but still, it did not make sense. “But Zorik did not have a golden eye, not until he changed.”
“True.” Uriah nodded. “He used magic to hide it, blood magic, I assume, which is potent and powerful.”
I frowned, recalling his strange musk. Had it been magic? “Go on,” I breathed.
“That’s when the gray mist came down, and storms battered High Tower. The monsters ate the miners, the tunnels flooded, the treasure was washed away, and Zorik and I remained. At first, we worked together to break the spell, but nothing we did changed anything.
“We grew to hate the sight of each other. I retired to the tower to sing, and he brooded in the castle. I was always better at hiding, but Zorik wanted to live again. He lured people here and created the theater, changing names every so often or killing those who discovered his secret. People returned to High Tower, forgetting the tragedy that had taken place, and I hoped my dark music would break the spell.”
I studied him as he spoke, a whirl of emotion passing over the sharp angles of his aristocratic face. Had he truly reformed? Left the darkness behind, or would the lure of dark magic always rule his nature? He sat before me, contrite, breathtaking. Despite everything I knew, it hadn’t changed the way I felt about him.
“I haunted the castle,” he continued. “It was the only source of food and drink. I usually stole enough for myself before returning to my lair, using the flooded tunnels. I also visited the theater, seeking students to teach to sing. Alone, my magic is strong, but to overcome Zorik, I needed another voice, a partner. I had other students, apprentices of the music of the night. I gifted them with magic and at first the combination was strong, and it gave me hope, but the music drove them mad. They lost their minds, some died in the lake, others became empty shells of themselves. It was not enough. I persisted with music, and Zorik drowned himself in pleasure that left him hollow. He eventually began to experiment with blood. It wasn’t a bad idea, as sorcerers we were both aware of the potent power of blood magic. While he thought blood could break the spell, I was determined music would, for it drove away the monsters and caused the plants to bloom. Decades we went back and forth, growing more reckless as time passed. Until Lucia.”
Lucia. I shivered at the thought of her and tried to control my emotions. But the thought of Uriah loving anyone other than myself made my stomach burn.
