Mireille had heardthis aria performed live a number of times, mostly by traveling companies visiting the Grand Ethyrian.
But nothing prepared her for the sound that wavered through Diva Carmina’s lips as the sun crested.
The first plaintive note, held for an impossibly long time, showcased the spirit maiden’s horror upon seeing her beloved High God plummet to the ground, wings aflame.
There were only a handful of performers capable of the notoriously difficult introduction. And even fewer who could manage it with perfect pitch.
The diva not only achieved it, but also imbued the opening with heart-wrenching shades of shock and longing.
It took Mireille’s breath away.
Her eyes stung and her throat burned as she tried to remember when she had last heard such beautiful music.
She swiped away embarrassing tears, then noticed Ronin, of all people, doing the same.
He shrugged through a watery smile, and some hard, ice-cold part of her melted.
So the beast did appreciatesomeculture.
She nestled closer, and he squeezed her shoulder in recognition of the soul-stirring performance.
Diva Carmina continued with the aria, a master technician who hit every note with otherworldly precision. But far more arresting than her technical skill was the diva’s ability to infuse each phrase with so much genuine emotion, one might assume she was the spirit maiden herself reborn.
She held the crowd within her enchanting spell for the full ten minutes of the aria.
As she built toward the climax, a gauntlet of octave jumps and glissando scales, she barely took a breath until she reached the final line.
“Raetyndra meos, amaternum mei.”A cracked whisper borne on a puff of wind.
“What does that mean?” Ronin whispered in Mireille’s ear, as though he was desperate to learn the answer.
Mireille’s voice broke, and she could’ve sworn she heard him return a stifled sob at her answer. “Return to me, my eternal love.”
Diva Carmina held her anguished face for a moment longer, then her lips parted into a dazzling smile as the spectators surged to their feet, cheering and whistling.
Otto rose from his seat, clapping and shaking his head in awe.
“Bravo,bravo!” He clasped one of the diva’s hands. “Ethyrios is not worthy of such a spectacular treasure.”
Diva Carmina demurred, bobbing a curtsy to the eccentric old billionaire.
They smiled at each other, the nascent sunrise gilding them in a shimmering halo.
Otto slashed out with his other hand, the steel within catching the light.
The diva’s eyes widened as Otto plunged the dagger into her heart.
And the crowd devolved into terror.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Horror coiled in Ronin’s gut as the diva crumpled onto the flagstones.
He shot to his feet, shoving Mireille behind him. The crowd fled their seats, knocking over chairs, trampling each other in their rush to escape the gardens.
“STOP!” Otto shouted, brandishing the bloodied dagger. His command stilled the crowd, who regarded him with terrified eyes and stifled whimpers. “Calm down, friends. Calm down. Allow us to explain.”
Mireille clutched at Ronin’s back, poking her head around his shoulder. He could hear her pulse pounding, could scent traces of her fear.
