She spun toward the sound, but the dim lighting made it hard to pinpoint his location. The faint creak of a door drew her attention, and she turned to see him stepping out of a side room.
He emerged into a single ray of sunlight spilling from the window above the entrance, and Tavia gripped the banister, stunned.
Lucius’s appearance was startlingly different.
Gone were the disheveled locks and dusty attire. He wore a head-to-toe black velvet ensemble, a ruffled white shirt showing beneath a gold-trimmed brocade vest. He had cut his hair; now, the long, wild strands curled neatly just above his pointed ears.
He no longer looked monstrous.
If anything, he looked handsome—so much so that it terrified her.
Lucius approached the base of the stairs, extending a hand toward her as though inviting her to join him.
Tavia descended the remaining steps, but she ignored his offered hand.
“You know,” he said, stepping into her path, “if we’re going to pretend to be husband and wife, flinching every time I’m near might make people question the validity of our marriage.”
He was standing too close now, his presence overwhelming.
“I don’t even know you,” Tavia replied, keeping her gaze fixed anywhere but his hypnotic green eyes.
Lucius smiled, a mischievous glint in his expression. “Well, I know one thing about you—you look darling in that dress. Now, come.”
Before she could protest, he took her arm and pulled her into the parlor. His grip was firm, but his exuberant smile made him seem almost harmless.
He let go and crossed the room to a grand piano.
“I know what we need,” he said with a grin. “A little music to lighten the mood.”
Blowing dust from the keys, he ran his fingers across them to clear away the remnants before doing the same to the bench. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and rested his hands on the keys, a serene expression settling over his face.
Tavia watched, curiosity replacing her earlier irritation. Would he actually play? And if so, how well?
Without opening his eyes, Lucius began. His hands moved fluidly across the keys, and the melody that filled the room was unlike anything she had heard before.
Tavern pianists had played plenty of jaunty tunes, but this was different. The hauntingly sorrowful notes wove a deep, unspoken pain into the music.
Tavia leaned against the piano, watching Lucius’ expression shift—serenity giving way to sadness, joy, and back again. His face told a story of emotionsshe couldn’t begin to understand.
She wondered about his past. How had he ended up locked in a coffin? What had he lost, and what was he seeking now?
The melody stirred something deep within her, dragging long-buried memories to the surface. Thoughts of home and her parents crept into her mind.
It had been two winters since she’d last seen them.
During the first year, she’d sent letters, though she wasn’t sure if they had ever reached them. Her parents rarely ventured into the village, and when they did, it was always her father, never her mother. He claimed it was because his wind ability made travel easier, but Tavia had always suspected there was more to the story.
Lucius’s song brought back all those unanswered questions about her family and their decision to live in isolation, far from everyone else.
As the final notes faded, Lucius opened his eyes and smiled. His gaze found hers, seemingly misty, as though he too was lost in memories.
“You play beautifully,” Tavia said softly.
“Thank you,” he replied, his voice hoarse, as if dredging up the music had taken more from him than he cared to admit.
Her stomach grumbled loudly, shattering the moment.
Lucius chuckled and stood. “If you’re ready, I believe it’s time we find some breakfast.”
