Page 66 of Hunger & Harmony

I lean against the heavy door, glancing around. It’s big. The bed looks comfy enough. There’s even a velvet canopy I can draw for privacy.

But it’s so cold, with no window or decorations or even a source of heat. Just a queen-sized bed, a wooden desk and chair, and another door to the left.

I drag my feet over to the bed, tossing my purse unceremoniously on top as I take a seat on the edge. It’s not like I have my luggage, either. I’m stuck in this dress until it arrives.

When will that be? My sense of time is slipping the longer I’m here.

I’m not even sure how long I’ve been contemplating that one question when scattered violin notes call from behind the door. My head snaps up, and I peer at the unassuming wood like it’s at fault. I know that music isn’t coming from anywhere in this entire wing.

The chandelier.

No.

The crown.

Like it knows I can hear, notes string together coherently. I sit stone-still, heart thrumming and hands bunching up the skirt of my dress. Because it sounds beautiful. Because it sounds like wrong notes when Niko fixes them.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard this version. I hope it isn’t the last.

I’m pulled to my feet. The enchanting melody is the furthest thing from meek. Especially as the violin picks up, the heart of the song is vibrant and grand. It brings color to this dull room, and without much thought, I’m drawn forward.

My hand touches the door handle, and the song flows through me. The violin is no longer alone, and as I slowly open the door, an entire chordal accompaniment dances alongside. It sweeps me away, all reason and hesitation lost to its exhilarating tempo.

The once somber hallway is alive with music. I don’t think much of it as I pass ‌clusters of candles, their cream wax pooling from hours of heat. Nor do I acknowledge the arrangements of mauve chrysanthemums and scarlet snapdragons lining the path, these flowers fresh and in full bloom. I only walk to the lilting rhythm, a smile touching my lips as my eyes flutter closed.

I go by instinct. Apparitions of dancers fill my mind, and I try to match their graceful movements. Pairs glide and whirl joyfully around me, their feet brisk. It’s dizzying, but I don’t mind. I’ve never felt so light.

Until an imperfection cuts through the reverie. Only one note is off, but it sets a chain reaction, instruments falling away, and the romantic melody now jarring and disorderly.

It’s enough for the dancers to dissolve and the music to cease. Only when the spell is broken do I open my eyes to cold darkness and realize what I’ve done.

There’s no music. No bouquets or flames, either. It’s as empty as I remember it. I don’t recognize this hallway I stand in.

I freeze. Where do I go? What should I do? I don’t even have a guess as to which way would lead me back to my room. Who knows how long until someone here would find me. Who’s to say it’d be friend, not foe?

Shit. Both of my phones are still on the bed, too. I fuss with my dress, like smoothing the fabric will make anything better.

Soft laughter chimes like a bell through the darkness. I tilt my head, trying to find the source. It sounds like a small group of women, their giggles and muffled words playing off ‌each other.

I fight the urge to call out. Instead, I move in silence, trying to keep my steps light. After I round the corner, I spot a door up ahead, ajar enough to show the faint glow of light.

There’s no relief yet. I don’t know who could be in there, but it’s my best shot.

Tiptoeing, I creep up close enough to peek through the crack.

It hits me like a bullet. A bullet with Niko’s name engraved on it.

I’m shattered as another wave of giggles curls out of the door, wrapping around and squeezing my faltering heart.

Three women lounge on a chaise near the window of an intimate lounge, Niko in the middle. Moonlight spills over them, highlighting ample cleavage and wanting eyes. The blonde is closest. She drapes along his clothed chest, wearing nothing but a satin robe and a gorgeous smile. They’re clearly human, but closer than most groupies I see around Arteria. For every tabloid that claims Niko is a womanizer and serial heartbreaker, I’ve yet to see that in action. Until now.

As she bares her throat to him, I take a step back. He doesn’t make any moves, even with her right there. His hands remain neutral, and his face is just as measured. But it’s enough. It’s too much to see him breathing her in, with two others touching him and murmuring encouragement.

The guitar pick sears my skin, and I reach my hand up instinctively. When my fingers grasp the heat through my dress, Niko’s eyes snap up.

Our eyes meet. Unlike any other time, I wish he would look away.

It’s not that he’s unfaithful. These women are as painful a reminder as the necklace against my skin. I wrap my hands around the burning pendant, fingers shaking. I have every intention to rip it off.