If this is a phase, it will pass. If it isn’t, I’ll deal with it when it costs me something.
Unsurprisingly, Erik is already seated in his preferred box.
The one with the clearest view of the orchestra pit.
Under different circumstances, I’d find that amusing.
Given how badly we misstepped, it’s not.
I head for the stairs and take the seat beside him.
I lean back and close my eyes, listening for different things than Erik.
I’m listening for volume. For balance. For whether this works as atmosphere, whether it’s refined enough to make people loosen their purse strings without realizing they’re doing it.
A discordant note snaps through the air.
I open my eyes.
Even from here, I can see the Maestro’s displeasure. Second chair violin. The man flushes crimson as he recovers, shoulders tight with embarrassment as he forces himself back into tempo.
Meg murmurs beside us, “This isn’t the first time. He’s about to lose his seat.”
I hadn’t realized she’d joined us.
Christianna plays on, unaware of her growing audience. Unbothered. Untouched.
Erik doesn’t blink.
Chapter thirty-eight
Christianna
I grit my teeth as the second chair makes yet another error. Months of listening to him half-try have taken its toll. It’s like once he was awarded second chair, he quit altogether.
I glance down at my music and stop holding myself back.
Maestro Earl claps his hands once, sharp and final.
“Daye. Second chair.”
“Rasmussen. You’re done for the day.”
My eyes widen for half a second before I school my face. Rasmussen shoots me a filthy look as he packs up, but I don’t look away.
I lift my violin and take the seat.
Liu, first chair, glances over and gives a single, approving nod.
A small, gleeful clap carries down from above.
Meg.
I allow myself a smile.
We finish rehearsal, and something settles in me.
The change feels right. Earned.
