Chapter 7
If Arielle had ever come back last night, I wasn’t sure.
I’d wandered into the kitchen and met Jacques, the chef, as well as Maribella, one of the maids. They were both receptive to my chatter, though I found the staff in these sorts of families often were, since their employers ignored them. The Triton family probably roamed somewhere in this gigantic place, but I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Frederick and Darla or Pearl and Olivia. Though if I had run into them, I wasn’t sure what I’d have said anyway, since they were essentially strangers.
And then I’d walked along the bay for awhile, aimlessness seeping into my bones. After being groomed to take over Albatross Industries my whole life, my days crammed with work or lessons, this openness was foreign to me. My parents had tried to keep me in a cattle chute of what they wanted from me, so the escapes to Jason’s to create were the only outlets I’d had.
The brine clung to me, even though night had fallen and I’d come in a while ago. I wandered into the kitchen.
“For you,” Jacques said from the kitchen island. The middle-aged man wore all black, a kitchen uniform, and his long silverhair was braided down his back. He lifted a plate of lemon salmon, jasmine rice, and roasted asparagus my way. My mouth watered at the gift, and I walked a little faster to claim it.
“Thank you,” I said. “Does this family do…dinner or something? Did I miss it?”
Jacques’s lips lifted, and he cast a glance out the window to the water. “They’re often indisposed. Tonight, Frederick and Darla are meeting with a different contingent.”
My brows drew together. Something felt off here, from the fact that the Tritons never seemed to be in their house to certain other details that stood out. The hint of brine that existed in the place, no matter what. How I’d found shimmering scales in one of the bathrooms earlier today. Even the staff had been evasive with most questions I asked about the Triton family, which made my curiosity multiply.
“Well, thank you for this,” I said and took the first bite. The lemony taste of the salmon exploded on my tongue. Delicious. “It’s amazing.”
“A friendly face like yours is welcome,” Jacques said, giving a gentle tip of his head. “A rarity.”
My chest twisted tight. The Tritons didn’t seem as callous as my parents, at least from the interactions I’d had with Arielle, but they clearly followed the pattern of neglecting their staff. “You say that now. Just wait until you get sick of me pestering you.”
Jacques snorted. I settled onto a stool at the island and made quick work of the food. Apparently, I’d been starving. Jacques busied himself with the dishes while I finished up and wiped my face with a napkin.
“Thanks again,” I said. “I appreciate the consideration.”
Jacques glanced at me, his eyes softening. “You don’t belong in a place like this. Surely it’s not too late to go a different route?”
I wrinkled my nose, not sure if he was joking or not. His tone sounded too serious for a joke, but if that were true…his words caused my stomach to sink. “Can’t be worse than the estate I left.”
Sympathy flashed in his eyes. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you need food. You’ll be able to find me in the private kitchen, anytime.”
I nodded, confusion churning through me. Jacques finished washing up, offered a wave, and slipped down one of the hallways like an apparition. Still, his warning lingered in the room, consuming the space until I needed to move.
Instead of heading to my room, I strode in the direction of the studio.
The subtle strains of a melody caught my ear. I bypassed the room where I’d painted the night before, this time heading in the direction of the music. The closer I got, the clearer the sounds of the piano grew.
My heart squeezed tight at the strength and power behind the melody, at the contained fury and fervor of the keystrokes. Music and art were so intertwined for me that I couldn’t help the inexorable draw. This wasn’t someone’s hesitant or careful learning of the piano—no, it was the force and finesse of a maestro.
I stepped into the entryway of the music room. The space was massive, like most of the rooms in this estate, with polished pine floors and high ceilings for better acoustics. Instruments hung up on the walls, also polished—brassy tubas, silver flutes and clarinets, as well as some items I’d never seen before, like shells with holes along the ridges, and pieces of coral, polished with a few slits along the side.
However, a grand piano stole center stage in the room, along with the person who sat at the keys.
I recognized Ursuline by profile alone, even though they faced away from me. They sat at the bench, the low curve of another vest of theirs exposing their muscular back, the lines and form there mesmerizing as they played. Their fingers raced along the keys, but their tentacles swept in as well, catching high and low notes with a fluidity I couldn’t look away from. The contrast of the black piano bench to their pale blue skin imprinted in my mind, their silver hair slicked back.
As much as I wanted to watch from a closer vantage point, I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the music. I leaned against the doorframe and simply watched. Their shoulders shook from the force of the way they played the keys, the intensity of the melody washing over me. It reminded me of my ferocious attack on the canvas last night, pouring out everything I’d locked away onto that space.
They manipulated the keys with a precision I was enthralled by, not a single off note, not a moment’s pause as the music echoed through the room in a booming crescendo, like the fury of the waves amid a storm.
I clutched the doorframe a little harder as they slowed in the aftermath, the denouement settling deep in my bones. They trailed to a close and…stopped, those resonant notes lingering in the air.
“Not often I have listeners.” Ursuline’s voice sliced through the quiet, startling me.
“I couldn’t help it,” I said, taking my first step into the room. “That was a beautiful melody. A memorized piece?”
“No, one of my own,” they said as they rose from the piano bench, moving forward on their tentacles. When they faced me, the breath snagged in my throat. Ursuline towered over me, a natural height that should’ve made me feel threatened. Instead, I was transfixed. They cocked one of their careful brows, a smirk on their lips. “Do you play?”
