Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nova
A short road connected the grounds of the palace with the royal city. A carriage was offered to us, but we decided to walk, and soon enough, the city of Tarnath unfolded like an enchanted map before us, full of a seemingly endless number of points I wanted to visit.
We swept from one point to another in a rush of eager curiosity—between stores full of glittering trinkets; to bustling market stalls full of colorful produce; to artisan workshops where beautifully-dyed fabrics hung from the rafters; in and out of crowded taverns with hearty laughter spilling from their doors…
Everything seemed alive, vibrant, pulsing with the rhythm of a thousand intricately intertwined lives all being lived out in tandem.
And this was likely another reason Bastian had insisted I come into this city: To remind me that there was life here, just as there was in the Above.
I could only imagine what it would be like to see this entire realm blooming with vitality once more—a hundred cities, each pulsing with their own unique heartbeat, each salvaged and snatched back from the darkness that might have destroyed them. I wanted the chance to visit them all.
To see them all come back to life.
The possibility made all the pain of these last few weeks seem worth it.
Word had apparently spread of my feats at Graykeep; I kept catching whispers about it, and about my rising army. I gained more and more followers as the evening went on, too. People wanted to speak to me, to ask questions, to parade me before their skeptical friends and prove I was real. In some cases, they merely wanted to touch my hand.
Both Aleksander and my guards grew a little more uneasy with every citizen that approached me—and I began to understand why Bastian had insisted on so many escorts—but I couldn’t bring myself to turn anyone away.
It was so…different from my old life, to not only be accepted by these people, but also welcomed by them .
Admired by them, even.
But there was a bittersweet side, as well.
Because most didn’t seem to know the whole story of what had happened at Graykeep. None of them mentioned the way Aleksander had fought his way to my side—the way his magic had combined with mine to create an even more impressive display. They rarely acknowledged him at all, and when they did, it was with the same sort of suspicion and uncertainty he faced from most of the people in the palace.
With every encounter, I found myself growing more confident in my ability to lead and save these people, but less certain about what that salvation meant for Aleks and me.
He had to have been thinking of similar things. Yet he smiled as he watched the citizens of Tarnath fawn over and flatter me —as long as they did it from a safe, respectful distance. And he never left my side.
Happy for me, regardless of what it meant for him.
The crowd around me thinned somewhat as it grew later. Realizing the day was slipping away, we hurried to the dress shop, arriving minutes before they closed. I hastily picked out patterns and fabric, had my measurements taken by a sleepy seamstress, and then we were sent on our way once more.
I was exhausted, by this point, but not ready to return to the palace. We strolled for an hour or so longer before finding ourselves completely enraptured by the scent of sugar and freshly baked bread. Following our noses led us to a quaint little bakery squished between two bustling shops.
A bell chimed as we pushed our way inside, where we were greeted by wall-to-wall display cases that held an assortment of delicate fruit pastries, beautifully frosted cakes, and other sugar-glazed delights. The air was warm, heavy with the rich aroma of butter and vanilla.
The baker was more than obliging once he recognized me, nearly tripping over himself to offer us anything we wanted. I couldn’t choose between all of the delights he presented us with, and so we ended up with multiple boxes full of goods to take home with us—which a few of our guards agreed to carry, albeit with some disgruntlement.
The night deepened, bringing a slight chill with it. Aleks draped his coat over my shoulders and we walked on, pausing on a small bridge that curved over a tiny stream, watching the colorful fish darting about in the water.
I was eating my second cupcake of the evening, trying and failing to slowly savor the fluffy chocolate base and the salted caramel frosting swirled delicately on top of it.
“If the upcoming battles go poorly, I want to be buried in a coffin full of this frosting,” I declared.
“Noted. And yet, you’ve wasted half of it by missing your mouth,” Aleks said, grinning, as he trailed a finger near the swirl of salty sweetness gathered in the corner of my mouth.
“If you’d tasted it, you’d understand my sloppy haste to get the rest of it inside me.”
He arched a brow. His fingers slid down, cupping my chin and angling my mouth toward his. He kissed the patch of messy frosting slowly, dragging his tongue as he pulled away, licking off the stray line of it that had smeared toward my cheek.
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s delicious.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the lingering, buzzing warmth his mouth had left on my cold cheek, all while thinking of the other parts of me he’d savored with that tongue.
“Okay,” I breathed. “Okay. I concede defeat. My composure is lost. I’m… flustered. ”
He laughed—a low, rich timbre that sent another hum of warmth through me. “Come on,” he said, taking my hand and weaving his fingers through mine, “there’s more I want to see.”
We ignored our aching feet and continued on, lost among the quiet conversations and sparkling lanterns of the city after dark. I soon forgot about the guards trailing us; the questions of what came next; the eyes of Tarnath’s citizens that watched us so closely. It was only me and him and wherever the night wanted to take us—the possibilities seemed endless.
Hours later, though, I could fight my exhaustion no longer; my steps finally began to slow. I’d just agreed with Aleksander’s suggestion that we head back toward the palace, when one last spot caught my attention: A music shop.
In the window, several instruments were displayed on tarnished stands and faded cloths, with a scattering of yellowed sheet music in between them. In the center of the display was a violin. Its body was a rich, golden brown, the varnish on it worn in places, suggesting it was well-loved and responsible for a lifetime of melodies.
Aleksander came up beside me, his expression curious. “Do you play?”
“…I used to. My mother—my adoptive mother, that is—was a talented violinist. I was never as good as her, but I enjoyed playing at her side. It…it felt like we were breaking down barriers between us when we practiced together, sometimes.”
The clouds shifted, a sliver of moonlight filtering through their grey blanket, casting a momentary glow on the shop’s window. The shopkeeper noticed me staring at the violin, and he was just as obliging as the baker had been, encouraging me to pick it up and take a closer look.
But I hesitated.
“Go on,” Aleks encouraged.
My fingers itched for a chance to relive my playing days, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach for it. I’d started playing because I so desperately wanted to have more in common with the woman I called Mother. I’d eventually come to love the music I created for other reasons, too, but it hadn’t come easily to me—and I feared that would show if I attempted to play after all this time.
Aleks watched me for a moment longer. Instead of pressuring me to pick it up again, he walked into the shop and took a closer look at some of the other instruments. He settled before a piano in the corner, lifting the hinged lid that covered its keys, testing out a few notes.
And then he began to play.
He started slowly, fingers skimming the keys with quiet, purposeful deliberation that soon gave way to more confident, fluid movements as he relaxed into the piece. He played with surprising tenderness, each chord imbued with emotion that rarely broke through his stoic exterior.
I drew closer, mesmerized as I watched his long fingers dance across the keys with ease. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had suspended its relentless march. The night wasn’t slipping away. War wasn’t looming. There was nowhere else I needed to be.
And as the melody unfolded around me, my heart unfolded, as well, spilling all of the doubts and fears that had clenched it up so tightly.
I returned to the violin and tentatively picked it up. The shopkeeper offered me a finely-made bow, as well. An ache settled in my arms as I took it, almost as if my body was somehow reliving the many long hours of practice it had taken me to try and keep up with the Queen of Eldris.
The fear of looking foolish remained, even if it wasn’t as loud as before.
Taking a deep breath, I drew the bow across the strings anyway.
The initial note was harsh, jagged—like a wail of protest. I cringed, wanting to stop, but the longing in my fingers refused to settle now that I’d started.
I tried again.
Like a rusted wheel grinding into motion, I pressed on, and soon the notes began to flow with more certainty.
Aleks paused to listen for a moment, his expression unlike anything I recalled ever seeing on his face. An almost soft, pensive… desire . He closed his eyes, seemingly allowing himself to sink more fully into the notes I was playing.
His hands rose to the keys once more. A few soft, tentative chords to feel out my song…and then we were playing together in earnest, the melody growing richer, rising and falling in an aching refrain that transported us far away and back again, leaving my stomach fluttering and my heart pounding.
Before long, a crowd began to gather around us. They packed into the small shop, pressing as close as my guards allowed, their smiles wide and their eyes bright with admiration as they applauded and requested a longer show. We obliged, each of us showing off with short solo performances until we settled on a tune we were both familiar with and played it together—an old folk ballad that spoke of love and loss, a melody as timeless as the stars.
When it was finished, I ended with a flourish, my final, lingering note echoing over the enraptured crowd.
Aleksander played on, softer now, while I leaned against the wooden counter next to the piano, taking in all of the happy, admiring faces around us. And I realized something: I was happy, too. The happiest I’d been in some time, despite all the worries and uncertainties pressing in.
Because I felt like I belonged here.
The realization overwhelmed me so much I could no longer focus on playing. I put the violin back on its cushion, thanked the shopkeeper, and gave a slight bow to the crowd before slipping outside for some fresh air, multiple guards on my heels.
Aleks lingered behind after I left, speaking with the shopkeeper—one of the few in the city who hadn’t regarded him with suspicion or uncertainty; more proof of music’s ability to break down barriers, just as it had between me and my mother.
While they talked, I went across the street to the florist shop. It was closed, but the front of the building was worth a visit, anyway; lush greenery, vibrant flowers and climbing vines formed a beautiful exterior display, spilling from the windows, weaving along the porch railings, wrapping around the door.
I knew when Aleks was approaching, because the flora reacted as his magical energy met mine—leaves shivering; petals shifting toward us; a few of the withered blooms perking up slightly. Subtle enough changes that most probably wouldn’t have even noticed.
He reached for one of the more withered blooms—a lily of some sort—and gently cupped his hand over it. Once its petals were fully open and full of shimmering, colorful veins once more, he plucked it and handed it to me.
“A gift for a successful performance,” he said.
I took the flower, smiling slightly as he pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek.
For the second time that night, I found myself slipping back into a memory of our past—into the garden at Rose Point, this time. I could still clearly picture the way his magic had brought a flower to life then, too.
I’d seen the possibility of a future with him that night…and then it had all imploded in a rush of bloodied blades and breaking earth.
Would this time be any different?
I’d gone silent without really meaning to. My smile had slipped away, and by the time I realized it, Aleks was already tilting his head in concern.
“Are you alright?”
“Just tired,” I lied, forcing the smile back on. “We should get back to the palace.”
His concerned expression remained, but he nodded, wrapping an arm around me and steering me back toward the main road. I huddled closer to him as we passed through the sleepy city, trying to focus only on the solid feel of his body against mine.
Nothing was breaking in this moment.
But as the city grew quieter, my thoughts grew louder, and one question rose above all others—
How do I choose between him and this world I want to save?