Chapter 13 #3
Gold and rhythm swirled around her until she couldn’t tell if it was drumsong or Taran’s fingers weaving through her hair as she kissed him. The world turned to spice and ocean and heartbeat.
She broke away. “I don’t want a fling.”
“What?” He pulled back, confused.
“Last night, you said ‘for the short time’ I’m here.
That’s not what I want. I don’t want a fling until I leave and then it’s over.
” She sat back on her heels but kept ahold of his hands.
“I want the time until I leave. But I want the time after that too. When I leave for Italy, I want you to come with me.”
“Cadenza—”
“Or after that,” she conceded, “if we can’t figure out how to break the curse in three weeks.
I’ll come back after the festival. And we’ll keep looking for a way, because I want the time after the festival too.
And the time after that.” She rose to her knees and ran her fingers through his hair.
“I don’t believe in Fate, no matter who you worked for.
Your choices matter, and I want you to choose the future. ”
Knee to knee and faces close, she watched the conflict on his face. Hope and want warred with despair and reality until finally he spoke.
“I can’t promise the future—I have no choices with which to shape one. But,” he paused, and kissed her once more. “You have all my time, mo chridhe.”
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “Play for me?”
“In honor of our non-fling status?” Mischief relit in his eyes, and he grinned. “Certainly.”
He stood, strapped the drum over his shoulder and experimented with a few beats, bass notes in the middle of the drum and lighter strikes on the rim of the other side.
Cadenza followed him into the open center of the field, the dum and tek reverberating in her chest. Taran’s bodhran and timpani crashed into the rhythm, separate currents meeting in a whirlpool.
Wind blasted through the field, and something wet splashed onto her face.
She looked up to see the stars disappearing behind thick clouds.
Goosebumps crawled up her arms and she shivered, as much from the sudden drop in temperature as from the roller coaster of emotions she’d ridden this evening.
Low notes rose from the earth to meet her heels, thumping on the ground in time with Taran’s playing.
The wind blew through her bones, a frisson of plucked zither notes.
The night shadows of the trees darkened and spread into a single curtain to blanket the field as the clouds covered the moon.
Thunder rolled through the sky, and Taran beat a staccato pattern to match.
Lightning split the sky. Rain pummeled them, a thousand tiny drumbeats washing over her skin.
“You know,” Taran called over the storm. “If I’m the drummer that means you should be the dancer.”
Heat spread through her at the sight of his soaked shirt clinging to his chest, and the music from the storm pushed at her edges. Her whole world threatened to burst.
“Oh no. I’m a singer, not a dancer,” she said, despite her feet still tapping with the beat.
“Well, then.” He sidled next to her, still playing, and bit her neck. “Sing.”
Earthsong flooded her.
Rain bounced and splashed off the skin of the drum with each strike.
Lightning, thunder, and drumbeats alternated in a flashing pattern of rhythm.
Something rumbled as Taran stomped his feet, sending waves undulating through the ground, and rolling through Cadenza as if they were part of the earthsong.
Music pressed at her from all sides until she didn’t know where to cast her net of control.
Thomas’s guidance came back to her.
Find the place where you can feel the song all around you, then move with it.
She clung to Taran’s heartbeat as seas of music raged around her. In her. It was too much. She would split open, disintegrate into song.
You have to let the music play its part. Let go. Trust.
Trust? Trust what? Could a swimmer trust the ocean not to drown her?
Yet she trusted Taran.
Lightning cracked once, high in the clouds. Twice, low over the hills at the edge of the estate. A third bolt streaked overhead, right above Taran. Horror shredded Cadenza’s control.
“No!” The word exploded out of her as a note, and she threw the earthsong over Taran as a shield. The bolt hit. Electricity shattered in a spray of sparks and an ear-numbing shriek, knocking both of them to the ground.
Quiet settled over the field, an echo of sound after feedback.
Cadenza gasped for breath. What was she thinking, letting the music loose around someone else? But she’d had to save Taran.
He rolled to his knees, whipping his gaze between the air where she’d blocked the lightning strike and her face. She panicked. How could she explain that?
Yes, I hear things and sometimes make stuff explode.
But a wide grin split Taran’s face. He jumped to his feet, whooping. She blinked. He was happy. Happy the woman he’d just promised all his time to was a living wrecking ball?
She stumbled to her feet. “I’m sorry.”
Taran scooped her into a hug and spun her around, laughing. “Sorry? Cadenza! You’re a Spinner!”