Just as suddenly he let go and moved away, leaving me standing alone in the center, eyes closed, a wordless song pouring out of me.
“Better,” he praised. “Can you hear the difference?”
Opening my eyes, I nodded, pleased by the ability to increase the volume and richness of my voice with such simple steps.
“With me.” He moved in front of me, this time a proper distance away and began to sing.
He guided me with his voice, his warm tones beautiful and intoxicating like the sweetest wines. I could not tear my eyes away, for his voice inspired my lacking confidence and imbued me with music. For the first time, I sensed my gift in the pit of my belly, growing like an unfurling bud. My voice no longer shook, the cracks faded away and sweet, smooth music rolled out from under my tongue. It was as easy as breathing.
I did not know how long we sang, but when at last he held up a hand, I felt as light as a feather. Breathless, I pressed a hand to my stomach and stared at him. A laugh burst from my lips. “That was marvelous! I’ve never been able to sing like that.” I spun around. “How did you do it?”
He flushed and turned away. “It is within you.” He handed me more water. “Drink. Take a moment and we will begin again.”
Suddenly aware of how thirsty I was, I drank, and then we sang again. Each note was pure and spirited with a life of its own. Song echoed around us until I had the distinct feeling we were feeding something, helping it grow in strength as we sang. I tasted a glimpse of that power for just like he said it was inside me, and it was he who revealed it. Under his instruction the music flowed out of me, although he did not make it easy. He pushed me to reach high notes I’d never reached before, to hold a note until I thought I would explode. I sang until the candles blurred into a haze and the tower seemed to tip and swirl.
“Rest,” Uriah said.
I took a breath, but there was no air, and suddenly I was falling. He caught me before I hit the floor and lowered me down, cradling my head in his arms. “Rest.” His voice softened as he placed one hand on my heart. “The magic is strong within you, but it demands too much. Don’t give in to it, fight it, and the weariness will pass.”
I nodded without speaking, my eyelids shuttering close. Vaguely I knew that I should free myself from his hold, yet he held me firmly against his body and nothing within me wanted to leave his embrace. What did that say about me? My chest rose and fell under his warm hand, while his fingertips brushed my hair away from my neck. When the spinning stopped, I opened my eyes, surprised to see how close his face was to mine. My breath hitched, but he moved away, helping me to my feet and then relinquishing all contact.
Just when I thought he was opening to me, he turned away. “It is late, you should go now.”
Swallowing hard, I went to the door and pulled on my cloak, repressing a wave of disappointment. The moment had broken, just when I thought he might be comfortable enough to talk to me. But Uriah wasn’t my friend, just an instructor.
Blinking hard, I turned toward the door, then paused. “When should I return?”
“Practice,” he called over his shoulder. “And return one week from now.”
My spirits dampened. Despite the success of my first lesson, I took my leave.
7
Aria
Aweek! I couldn’t believe it. I climbed into bed, my fingers touching my throat as he had. How could I go a week without seeing him? Would I retain what I had learned? I wanted to practice right then and there, but I forced myself to lay still, to breathe in and out until I fell asleep. I slept without dreams, only to wake when a mournful melody broke my sleep. Heart racing, I slid out of bed.
The hidden sunset cast a rosy aura across the land, and even as I unlatched the window, I heard the rawness, the pain and the loneliness of that song. The organ swelled, carried by a gentle breeze, echoed by the waves. I closed my eyes and let the music in, basking in that hum, swallowing each uncanny emotion the music delivered. As I listened, I began to understand it as though it were an echo of emotion, internal screaming and heart-throbbing loneliness. When the song ended, I found my face wet with tears.
A tap on the door interrupted my solitude, and Samara poked her head in. “I hoped you’d be down in the dressing room with the others again,” she slipped inside, depositing my meal on the vanity and moved to the wardrobe. “Madame Blu said you had a late night, and to let you sleep.” Her eyebrows wiggled as she studied me.
“Madame Blu needs to learn how to hold her tongue,” I retorted. I had no intention of sharing my whereabouts, especially since my secret sent tingles through my veins and set a spark of hope in my heart. If everyone knew about it, the magic would be gone and I might not be allowed to leave again. And I desperately needed those lessons.
“Secrets,” Samara tsked, but I detected a playful hint in her tone. “I will get it out of you one day. My guess is that you’ve taken on a lover.”
I slumped in front of my meal with a groan. It was not uncommon for the singers to take lovers, nor the lords or ladies. And no one would mind if I did, since I was a lady of no means, no wealth. “I wish, but I can’t be tempted to stay in High Tower.” My thoughts went to Uriah, the touch of his rough fingers on my neck, gentle and yet so much more. I shifted my weight and clamped my mouth shut, determined to say no more.
“Oh, I see,” Samara giggled. “Keep your secret, then. I’ll find out, one way or another. You should let me know though, I’ll bring you a tea and herbs to keep you safe from lover’s curse. By the way, before the performance, the Count wants to see you.”
My back went rigid, and I froze, fork in midair. “Why?” I demanded, questions colliding and muddling with each other. Did he have news? Had he arranged a marriage and sought to get rid of me?
Samara shrugged. “He did not tell me, but it did not sound like he found you a husband, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It was. She knew. They all knew. I could not dance for my living forever and be a burden on Zorik’s charity. It was too early to perform for him, but I had to tell him, had to let him know I had a solution. All I needed was time.
I ate as much as I could, although the roast meat and potatoes stuck in my throat. Dressing for the evening, I followed Samara through the low-lit halls of the castle. It was cold outside of my room, away from the warmth of the fire. The fingers of winter were descending, reminding me of my first winter in High Tower Castle. Snow and ice hung off the rooftops, leaving the stones slick and the bay frozen. The fog was thicker than ever, visibility so bad I often could not see even the bay, yet the glimmer of white made the land appear brighter.
Count Zorik’s audience chamber was much warmer than my rooms. Expensive fur-lined rugs and red drapery covered the windows, and a roaring fireplace took up one side of the room. Hints of amber and spice hung in the air, meant to tempt my senses and help me relax. Zorik sat at his desk, signing papers with a black feathered pen. I glimpsed his signature stamp, a blood-red emblem. I swallowed hard, reminded again of the man who’d been found drained of blood. The theater seemed to have recovered from the incident rather quickly. Other than hushed whispers, no one spoke about what had happened.
