I had screamed at him in the garden over a simple accident just for me to make a worse intoxicated mistake a week later.
I wished I could speak to him. I would apologize for being so hateful before and…for continuing to fuck up even more now.
Then the music started again. The thinnest sliver of the crescent moon cast its soft glow over the tiles of the dance floor. The faint blue luminescence looked so magical, so inviting…
So I danced.
I moved my feet in time to the song in my mind as my heart warmed. My arms swept through the air as I weaved around an invisible partner. No one was around to grab me, or critique my steps, or force a drink into my hand. The lovely song filled me from head to toe, and I was safe.
My breath was calm, a smile lifted my cheeks…
Then the faint notes left my mind and traced my ears. They were slow and soft, like feathers in the air. I looked around—no one else was in the ballroom.
I was not even sure if I was hearing the same song that was in my mind, but my feet dragged across the tile as I followed the music. I slipped past the ballroom doors and the music got louder.
A gentle run of notes up the scale sent a pleasant shiver down my arms—it was a harp.
I traveled down the hall, following the notes to a door that was left ajar. I wrapped my fingers around the door and slipped into the small room behind it.
The drapes were pulled over the windows. The modest furnishings and decor were visible only from the light of a single candle in the far corner of the room. In the glow of the candlelight was Derrick, strumming a large ebony harp.
I let out a relieved breath. His face was sallow and his cheeks too sharp, but at least he was all right after collapsing.
Derrick’s eyes were half-lidded as he played. Blue starlight danced along the strings and crested his features. He moved with the harp in time with his breaths and with the slow, sweeping song.
I quietly stepped closer. His hands moved up the strings, the notes getting higher and sweeter, and then a floorboard creaked under my foot.
Derrick’s hands stopped and he looked up with wide eyes. My heart missed a beat as we looked at each other. I had no shoes and wore only a nightgown, I must have looked ridiculous.
“Serafina, what are you…?” he asked breathlessly. He looked to the floor. “I did not think anyone would…”
“I liked it.” My cheeks warmed and I stroked the tail of my braid. “I heard it outside and…”
I let myself trail off. What was I doing? Why had my magic not led me to Ilsa’s vault? Or maybe evidence that Riyan had been more than a mere executioner?
Why did my heart’s desire push me toDerrick?
He rested his hand on the black wooden frame. “Did you just wake up too?”
I gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded.
He looked down and started strumming again. “Your mother assured me that you were healing fine, but I was still worried. I thought the music would help ease my mind.”
He plucked a few strings. I fidgeted with my braid as he played, but my white flame stirred, urging me to keep talking. “I was always so impressed that you could play the harp. I never could. My arms are too short and my hands too small to reach all the strings.”
His hands fell from the harp and he shot me a disbelieving look. He silently beckoned me and I tentatively stepped over.
Derrick gently wrapped his arm around my waist, guiding me to sit on his left leg. “Never say you cannot do something, Serafina.”
My cheeks blazed, but I heard Brietta in my head saying, “Play your role.”
Was this what my magic was trying to tell me? Was I only supposed to keep Derrick occupied so Brietta could uncover the truth of Ilsa and win our liberation? Would the General eventually open up about Riyan if I acted like a good, complacent Hyton?
Was I reallythatuseless as a sorceress and a healer?
Derrick placed his left hand on top of mine and then lifted it to the taut harp strings. “All right, you are going to be my left hand.”
I swallowed at the feel of the strings beneath my fingertips. The memories of the other girls mocking me for being too small to reach rang in my ears.
