Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The music room was something straight from my dreams.
Unlike the rest of the great mansion, the walls were inlaid with dark wood and framed with deep blue velvet curtains around the wide windows and glass doors.
It gave the space an intimate feeling, making me want to curl up on the small settee nestled between a lush green plant and a towering bookcase filled with sheet music.
But it was the pianoforte that held my attention most of all, set in the center of the room and illuminated with a shaft of moonlight.
Lord Azad flicked his fingers and the candles in the small chandelier burst to life.
A small laugh escaped me at the casual display of his power.
Most vampires I knew lacked most of the magical ability they’d possessed as humans.
It took one centuries to rediscover and hone that power.
Lord Azad’s was endless—I could sense it even from that single action.
He’d never answered my question about fledglings but I didn’t push him.
He guided me into the room with a hand on my back.
I cringed internally at the threadbare gown I wore.
Even Jules had eyed it speculatively before we’d left the Souzterain and Gerald had raised a brow at it when he’d first greeted me.
Perhaps I should have held some oyista back to purchase a new dress.
However, in the week since I’d sent the money home, I’d been surprised to receive a reply:
My jewel,
We received your letter this morning, though I regret to say that I found it lacking.
There has been an unfortunate turn in your brother’s health and the healers have demanded their share.
The family is in need of nine hundred additional oyista for the bills to ensure he is well. Send it with the post this week.
Maman
I’d read the letter three times and by the last I was sure I’d ground my teeth to dust. Nine hundred oyista was a little over double what I made in a single month, not even considering Louis hadn’t mentioned a turn in his health in his most recent letter.
Helplessness had drilled itself into my bones until I was haunted by my mother’s words as if she were a specter on my shoulder.
But Lord Azad’s presence washed it all away. The moment I’d stepped into his arms and the dance had begun I could pretend for a little while I was merely another witch at the ball who had caught his eye. Here in the music room, it was much the same.
“This is the pianoforte that was in Monsieur Belovuk’s shop,” I said, running a finger over the frame, the lacquered wood smooth beneath my touch.
Lord Azad was close enough to touch, but he did not hover. “It is.”
A smile tugged at my cheek. “I was so sad when it was gone. I spent many hours playing it.”
I shivered at his low chuckle. “Well, then, it is good you two are reunited.”
His wide hand covered my back again as he encouraged me to sit.
Gathering my skirts, I slid onto the bench, scooting to the side enough to offer him a seat.
Lord Azad hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t sit beside me.
Instead, he rested his hand on the frame, on the very spot I’d traced with my finger.
A few tendrils of his hair had escaped the ribbon tying it back, framing his sharp cheekbones and golden-brown skin.
I’d never realized how thick his lashes were until we danced, but now I found I couldn’t stop staring at them.
His dark suit and one-shoulder cloak were different than the others I’d seen, just as lavish, but understated.
In truth, it looked a bit more like something he would want to wear, save for perhaps the emerald pin.
“Would you play for me, Mademoiselle?”
Heat raced across my cheeks, but I nodded, placing my hands on the familiar keys.
In many ways, it was like coming home after I’d spent so long seated at this instrument.
I chose another song I knew and loved—one I played in my head when the world became too much, tapping my fingertips across my thigh.
It was almost a relief to hear it aloud after days of playing it inside my mind.
Lord Azad watched with an intensity one didn’t usually have when observing a musician. His attention flicked all around me, from my hands, to the curve of my throat, around and around before finally settling on my face.
“What is it about me,” he started before pausing to clear his throat, “that terrifies you so?”
My eyes widened and I blinked at the keys. A hand covered mine, the notes falling away beneath his touch.
“I would never seek to harm you.”
In a daze, I tracked the glide of his thumb across my knuckles. “I do not think you would…”
“And yet you fear it regardless.”
I slipped my hands from beneath his, tangling my fingers in my lap. “I am nothing but a copper oyista shined and ready for use, my lord. Such things are never kept for very long.”
He came closer, his tentative hand sweeping an errant curl off my shoulder. “You are nothing of the sort. You are precious, like a jewel.”
My stomach twisted at the words and I wondered if the disgust was as plain on my features.
He read each furrow of my brow, each twitch of my jaw.
I looked away from him in favor of the garden through the glass doors, the night-darkened flowers and tinkling fountains calling to me.
A knot twisted in my stomach so tight my eyes burned.
“Adrienne,” he breathed.
I turned my face toward his as if pulled on a string.
He leaned down, one hand braced on the pianoforte and the other rising to cup my cheek.
My name on his lips only tightened the knot, even as warmth pooled in my core.
So gently, his thumb brushed my jaw, fingers sliding across my throat.
I tilted my head in the show of submission I’d fabricated so often, but was now instinct rather than an act.
“I am only as good as what I can provide,” I whispered. The words were acid on my tongue and I swore I could hear my mother’s voice as she had repeated them throughout the years.
Lord Azad shook his head and I found myself straightening my spine even as he dipped lower. “No, little bird. That is not true.”
I closed my eyes. Looking at his face hurt—the warmth and tenderness there was a knife slipped between my ribs. His hand tightened around my hair, drawing my head back.
“Look at me.”
He was close enough now I could count the specks of swirling gold in his irises, see each individual lash. The scent of him was heavy on the air and I wanted to breathe it in, use it to erase the burn inside my chest.
“You are not a thing to be bought or sold. You are the light itself that shines at dawn, that grows the flowers and the grass.” Lord Azad was close enough now that his lips brushed mine with his final words. “So incredibly vital.”
Those citrine eyes gazed into mine, asking for permission, begging for it even. I parted my lips, my lids fluttered closed and—
Bernard, Lord Azad’s head of house, cleared his throat.
I jerked away, the bench scraping loudly across the stones as I stood and faced the glass doors to the garden, my arms wrapped tightly around my middle.
“Yes, Bernard,” the lord rasped, an uncharacteristic bite in his words.
“Apologies, Eamon, but Madame Searah is in need of Mademoiselle Valois. It appears her… Lord Montag has been searching for her.”
Any warmth I’d felt died, frosted over as if a winter storm had struck. I turned and curtsied low, pressing three fingers to my lips. “Thank you for showing me the music room, my lord.”
I was practiced enough that the words held no tremor, no hint that I wanted to claw my way into his arms and beg him not to let me go. He reached out, circling the pianoforte while I all but ran toward the door.
“Adrienne—”
But I was gone before he could speak another word.