They had been painted over by the Swan King. Painted black.
Stained with false kindness and greedy hands. With manipulation that masked itself as compassion. With seduction and then domination. Kon was right, my life had become centered around sex. The King's pleasure. It was my go-to response because that was how I'd been trained to interact with a partner. That was the mask Nikolay had fastened over all that my parents had tried to teach me.
Now I had to start again. Relearn what love was. Remember what I had been born to be. Only four years with them, that was all I'd had. But that love had sunk deep into my heart and hid, waiting for me to excavate it. Waiting for me to remember it and want it again. And I knew it was enough. Niko had gotten me young and molded me into the man he wanted, but those first four years of my life had been integral. Fundamental. They had built a foundation that he could only build upon, not destroy.
I knew how to love; the knowledge was right there inside me. I just had to direct it at myself first.
“Step one,” I said to my new self. “We figure out what we want.”
My stomach gurgled.
“That was easy.” I laughed as I headed out the door. “Breakfast it is.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was as if I'd never seen the world before, not even this small part of it. I walked down to the village, staring about in wonder. Everything was a possibility. Did I want to be a gardener? Grow things? Dig in the dirt with my hands? Or did I want to harvest honey? Learn about bees and help their hive flourish? Maybe I could be an architect and design the homes that people live in. There was so much that the world had to offer and so much I could offer in return.
I eventually found myself in front of the theater, staring at the polished brass door handles, shaped like swans. With the exception of the castle, this building was the most magnificent in the village. But then, it had once been a temple. The house of our Gods. It stood alone in a space between castle and village, a bastion of carved stone and gold that must have once given hope to our people. Now it was reduced to entertainment. Was I rejecting music merely because of the man who had ordered me to sing? Niko's father had ousted the Gods, then Niko had forced me to defile their temple. But was that the fault of the music?
I went inside, bringing the chill with me. The entry hall was empty, an expanse of blood-red carpet and polished wood paneling with chandeliers hanging above, waiting to be set alight to show their true beauty. Music drifted to me, a faint sound luring me deeper. I strode like a phantom through the shadowy corridors, knowing the way by heart.
Byheart.
Dear Gods, I did love this place.
I removed my gloves so I could run my hands over the velvet that draped the walls. Descending the curving corridor that ran alongside the private viewing boxes, I headed toward the backstage entrance. Polished and carved, the door of the King's box came into view on my left. Small lights in the floor illuminated it even now, as if by mere association to the monarch, it required constant recognition.
I stopped.
I had never been in the King's box. In all those years that I'd performed for him, I'd never seen the view from his perspective.
I opened the door and went inside. More velvet. A gilded sideboard holding enameled boxes of opera glasses and a line of crystal decanters. Five chairs, one a throne set in the center of the other four. I sat on Niko's throne. Why the fuck not?
It was a perfect view. Of course, it was. Jutting out a bit on the left so that it was angled toward the stage, the King's box was high enough to see everything. Every detail of the props and costumes as well as the sumptuous décor of the theater itself. The painted ceiling with the swans flying across it. The gilded moldings. The carvings that had taken artisans years to finish. All a mask, laid on thick to make people forget that this was a holy place. That every round of applause was sacrilege.
This was the example King Grigori had set for his son. To cover your heinous deeds with shining gold and turn them into accomplishments. To mask your true self and put on a show. All so people would adore you. Or at least fear you. Sitting in Niko's chair, I could almost feel sympathy for him. He was only doing what he'd been taught. The problem was, he'd been an apt pupil.
I closed my eyes as the sound of the orchestra rose from the pit below. Even without me, one of the main actors, the cast had to practice. They weren't in costume, but it didn't matter. The aria rose around me and fluttered into my stomach. I had no idea that the acoustics up there were so impeccable. That the very shape of the theater enhanced a singer's voice. No doubt designed to carry our voices to the Gods.
The King must feel like a god, sitting there, listening to us sing for him as the Larchs had once done for the bold Balvoran and gentle Lachia. Our voices rising to him like prayers, our bodies moving for his entertainment. Worshiping him as he demanded.
Breakfast threatened to sour in my stomach, but I steeled myself. I had let Nikolay influence everything in my life; I refused to let him taint this rebirth.
I stood up abruptly and left the room. I needed to analyze my feelings without the King's presence looming over me. In the welcoming dark of the corridor, the memory of undulating atop Konstantin returned. The memory of our lovemaking sent a thrill through me, of course, but it was the singing that I focused on. I had enjoyed it. I hadwantedto sing for Kon. Now I wanted to sing again.
For me.
I pulled off my gloves and shrugged out of my coat as I strode briskly down to the stage door. Entering the domain of the cast and crew was like coming home after a long journey. Where before I would walk these halls with a tightening stomach, I now strode them with my head up and chest light. I went to my dressing room and tossed my things on a chaise before rushing back out. What was this tingling in my belly? This vibration in the soles of my feet? I liked it. When I reached the stage, I was grinning ear to ear.
I didn't interrupt, just watched and waited for the scene to conclude. Soon enough, I would be out there, rehearsing with my fellow performers, and until then, I would enjoy the anticipation. The tingles. Excitement. Nerves. Revelation. I wasn't sure what exactly I was feeling, but the point was; I wanted to feel it. I wanted to be there.
I was a singer and this was where I belonged.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I spent the day in the Larchary Theater. Singing, helping the others rehearse, and sharing in the camaraderie that can only be found in a theater. I hadn't just missed singing, I'd missed them. These people were a type of family to me. We had spent a lot of time in make-believe worlds together and a bond forms from that. We had fought monsters, overcome insurmountable obstacles, fallen in love, and lost that love together. And now, I had been reborn with them. It turned out that I didn't have far to look to find myself.
I was still smiling when I headed back to the castle that night. The weather was bitter again. Biting. But I didn't mind. When the cellphone vibrated in my pocket, I found a dark corner near the castle wall where the wind couldn't reach me, then turned toward the wall and hunched forward, pulling my hood low so the cameras on the walls wouldn't catch what I was doing. Only then did I pull out the phone and answer Kon's call.
