Then I taste something that has me halting in place.
It’s a new mix of emotions, and not from a fading trail this time. It’s current. It’s her. And she’s close.
I take off again, faster now, pausing only when I reach the end of the corridor and the door that stands between me and Em. Her concentration of energy burns bright on the other side.
Then it changes again.
It ripples with a haunting power, one that has me entranced. Peace settles over me, and a fluttering feeling warms the center of my chest. That’s when familiarity sparks. I’ve felt this before. Followed this pull. But when? Slowly, I open the door. At first, all I see is a shadowed corridor that leads backstage, but when I glimpse a tiny silhouette, propped against the wall farther ahead, I know it’s Em. Her energy grows stronger, that familiar element weaving brighter around her, tasting like citrus and rose and the breath of a storm wind. I step closer to her. Closer. I’m unable to keep myself away, but at the same time, I’m terrified that one loud step will stop her song and frighten her away like a startled animal. Then she’ll take off into the night and I’ll never see her again.
Again.
I’m certain I’ve been in her presence before, but not with the face she now wears. As her energy grows and spreads, it conjures visions of a teal-haired girl in a simple ballgown, of a coy smile and dazzling eyes just visible behind her mask.
Then I hear it. A soothing hum that echoes in my bones, tugs at my heart. It mingles with the melody that rings out from the stage, but hers doesn’t follow it. It chases it, plays with it, flits around it like a bird on a breeze. I dare to step even closer, and her face comes into view. Her eyes are closed, lips pursed, fingers fluttering at her sides. She looks exactly like the glamoured impostor who fled the theater box, but new energy glows around her, and yes, I remember now. I recall the last time I followed this energy.
My heart flips as my eyes lock on her hands. Hands I’ve seen anxiously drum against her thighs more than once. A gesture I knew to mean anxiety, but only now recognize for what it is.
Piano keys. She’s playing invisible piano keys.
Her tune wraps around me, digging through me, burrowing into my deepest core. I feel a sudden lurch, and something inside me unfurls, spreading outward like a blooming rose. It rises and grows, tingling from my heart and down my arms, eliciting joy, pleasure, desire, and awe. Tears prick my eyes as it nearly overwhelms me. I feel as if I’ve been dosed with every hallucinogenic fruit in Faerwyvae, and I don’t know if I want it to stop or last forever. My head begins to swim in a not unpleasant way, and I close my eyes. As my entire being continues to buzz, I feel as if I’m melting into the floor. My knees start to cave beneath me, and I brace my hand on the wall.
The humming vibration cuts off.
A muffled cry of alarm takes its place. I blink my eyes open and find myself standing far closer to her than I realized, my hand planted on the wall next to her head. Her face is full of terror, her hand to her lips. I’m too overwhelmed with the emotions that envelop me—myemotions, for once—that I can’t taste hers, nor can I move. For endless moments, all I can do is catch my breath, will my mind to clear. Once I’ve finally managed to gather my bearings, I push off from the wall and take a step back. Em’s eyes are wide and frightened as she watches me in silence. I clear my throat, but it takes me several tries to summon my voice.
“You’re her.”
She quakes before me, fingers flinching once more. “Who?”
“My mystery pianist.”
* * *
EMBER
I stare at him for several moments, unable to blink. Unable to think. Franco’s last words were not the ones I was expecting. When I opened my eyes and saw Franco standing before me, all the pleasure and relief I found from my hummed tune fled. I thought for certain he’d come to tell me he’d discovered my true identity. That he and Marus figured it out in my absence. The last thing I ever imagined was what he actually said.
My mystery pianist.
Why would he call me that? I shake my head. It makes no sense. No sense whatsoever.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
His voice comes out barely above a whisper. “You’re the girl in the blue ballgown.”
Shock runs through me as I try to understand what he’s suggesting. He saw me at the ball? Then why would he refer to me as his mystery pianist? The only people who saw me play piano at the ball were the wisps and the fat raven.
And…no. That’s not possible.
I shake my head. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”
“You played last night. In the parlor.”
“You weren’t there,” I say, taking a step back until I come up against the wall. “You were on the dais.”
“I told you. It was supposed to be a riddle.”
“How is that a riddle?”
