Chapter 45 Cabaret
CABARET
Three Months Later…
Iwas almost late for rehearsal again. This time, I couldn’t quite take all the blame. I had my shit together for once, but there was a large, hulking, very needy presence stopping me from running out the door.
“Ciaran! Please. I’m going to be late. I can’t leave without my shoes.” I placed my hands on my hips and pouted as he dangled my heels nonchalantly above his head.
“Oh, I know. That’s the point.” He gave me a lazy half-smile, the same one he’d given me on the rooftop all those months ago. It still made my stomach twist with pleasure.
It was nearly 10:30 and I was running late for rehearsal.
I had auditioned just as Mal suggested. I didn’t expect to make it my first time auditioning.
I was no stranger to that kind of rejection.
But to my surprise, I was selected to be a part of Mal’s cabaret dance company.
And we had our first show tomorrow. We were doing a full blocking rehearsal at the speakeasy today, and if I was late, well, Mal would flay me alive.
“Ciaran.” I jumped up, trying to grab the shoes. Goddess, he was so much taller than me. There was no way I’d ever get them unless he let me.
“It will cost you.” His smile turned feral as he lifted the shoes even higher and bent his face to mine expectantly.
I sighed, rolling my eyes. Even as he leaned in, I still had to rise up onto my tiptoes to reach his lips.
And even though we’d been together for almost every hour of every day for the past three months, Ciaran’s kiss still knocked the wind out of me.
His scent, his warmth, enveloped me. His lips pressed to mine, gentle at first, and then hard and insistent.
I groaned. Letting go of this man was not a particular strength of mine.
“Okay, okay, okay. Can I go now?” I pulled away, breathless already. Damn him.
“Do you have to?” He frowned, dark brows knitting together.
“Yes.” I pecked him on the cheek and grabbed my shoes from his mercifully lowered hands.
“Fine.” He leaned against the doorframe of our newly furnished apartment.
The light from the windows gleamed on his dark hair, bouncing off the raised scars on his face.
We both had new scars from the viscount.
I still felt a wave of anger and nausea every time I thought of the fact that he had been responsible for those old ones. “I’ll see you later?”
“I’ll see you at the Bowl later.” Where Ciaran would be singing.
As he did every week. Someday I would work up the nerve to join him.
I wasn’t quite ready to sing for an audience yet.
Somehow, it still felt too raw. Ciaran and I practised together most days.
I was preparing to sing with him, we just hadn’t found the right moment yet.
At least I wasn’t lying to myself about my desires—and I wasn’t stewing in resentment anymore.
I could let go of that oath. My parents had only been trying to keep me safe.
But I didn’t need to hold onto that anymore. I could take care of myself.
We had spent the past three months Beneath Lutesse working to heal from what happened.
We moved into that windowed apartment within a few weeks.
Ciaran’s duties as King Beneath Lutesse kept him busy.
There was much to do in the wake of the viscount’s attacks.
It would take a long while for everyone here to feel safe again.
I often woke in a cold sweat—dreaming that the viscount still held me in his thrall.
I knew that there was an undercurrent of fear Beneath Lutesse—that something like that could happen again.
Everyone was working overtime to make sure we were safe.
Training with Fionn and Rory was one way that I learned made me feel safer.
Now that I could access my magic, my training was going infinitely better.
Elena was teaching me how to read and use runes.
It was difficult work, but I was a decent student.
My elemental magic was still the strongest in my arsenal.
I had broken down all the walls blocking me from those black flames—from the wind and ice.
I could get to them even when I was in charge of my emotions, and every day I got a little better at controlling the elements I wielded.
I was so busy with dancing, and training, and spending every spare moment in bed with Ciaran that our schedules allowed, that I almost didn’t have time to think about the dream.
Or that fallen book in the library. And when I did have time to think about them?
Well, I pushed them out of my mind as fast as I could.
Mostly, I found that the life I had built here, in this dark, mystical and magical place, was better than anything I had ever had above.
I wasn’t resentful, or angry, or jealous or vengeful anymore.
I wasn’t doing anything that anyone thought I should do.
But instead, I did everything that I wanted.
It took some getting used to. To stop asking “What should I do?” and instead ask “What do I, Seraphina, want to do?” But I was getting better at it.
Starting with dancing with Mal and Elena and the rest of the cabaret cast.
We rehearsed for a long, long time, blocking out all the numbers on the stage of the speakeasy, where I’d seen Carol Ruby’s variety show all those months ago.
By the time we were wrapping up, I was slick with sweat, aching in muscles I didn’t even know I had, and gasping for breath. And it was intensely satisfying.
Elena handed me a cup of water from behind the bar as she used a bar towel she’d stolen to mop the sweat off her forehead.
“Do you feel ready for the show?” She continued to swipe the towel behind her neck, looking at how soaked it was and grimacing. “I’m disgusting.”
“I feel ready. Do you feel ready?” I took a long gulp from the water she’d handed me.
Elena shrugged. “I’m always ready.” She gave a wry smile. “Ask Mal.”
I shoved her playfully. She and Mal had finally taken the leap in their relationship. And I was beyond happy for my friends. Though they rivalled Ciaran and I for the title of “most disgustingly affectionate couple.”
“Are you two coming to the Bowl?” I asked.
We’d all been hesitant to go back into that place after what happened with the viscount.
But enough time had passed now that I was starting to be able to enter the space without having horrible flashbacks of the viscount’s blood pouring onto the sacred stone floor.
And it seemed like there hadn’t been any terrible side effects from the viscount’s ritual with the Pentacle and my blood—or from his blood pouring over it after.
We had dodged that bullet at least, interrupting him before he could complete whatever he had been planning.
The Pentacle was now safely housed with Beneath Lutesse’s city council.
They would decide what to do with it, and I was glad it was out of my hands.
“Of course we’re coming to the Bowl,” Elena replied.
“He’s singing the song?” she crooned. I pretended I didn’t know which song she meant.
But I knew. It was the one he’d written about the first time he’d seen me at Montmartre.
The first song I’d ever heard him sing. It was my favourite by far. And he knew it.
“Not sure what you mean.” I feigned ignorance. Elena rolled her eyes. Our back and forth banter was as fun today as it had been when we met.
“We’ll meet you at the usual table. Mal’s just got to lock up.
” Something caught Elena’s eye over my shoulder.
“Oh. Seraphina. You’ll never guess who’s waiting for you out in the crossroads.
” Elena rolled her eyes, speaking in a mocking monotone as she glanced behind me and out the window of the speakeasy, which overlooked the bustling business centre Beneath.
And I didn’t have to look to know who was there.
But I did anyway. There was Ciaran, looking resplendent and dashing in a fitted black suit with the top buttons open, revealing those swirling scars—new and old.
And there was absolutely nothing complicated about how I was feeling. Nothing complicated at all.
Fin.
Seraphina and Ciaran’s story will continue in Of Dreams and Deities.