Page 79 of Even Beneath the Stars

When I don't respond, his hard body nudges against my side. "I'mjoking." He laughs, rolling his eyes. "Geez."

And this time, I laugh too.

The collection spans an entire wall—rows of ornate music boxes perched on glass shelves, their gilded surfaces gleaming. Some are small as matchboxes, others large as bread loaves. Each one a masterpiece of tiny gears and delicate mechanisms.

I lean in closer to the glass. "How many are there?"

"Almost twenty." Xave pulls the glass door open with a soft click. "Ready to create some chaos?"

The musty-sweet scent of aged wood and metal drifts out.

"Wow…" My finger traces the first row of music boxes, then pauses over a particularly ornate one, its lid cracked and caved in. The delicate painted flowers are smeared, the gold filigree bent and warped. Tiny gears spill from its broken side like mechanical entrails. This wasn't an accident—the damage is too specific, too violent.

I lift it carefully. "What happened to this one?"

Xavier's jaw tightens. "Not sure." His tone is flat, final.

The lie hangs between us. There's definitely a story there—probably not a happy one, given his reaction. I trace the jagged edges where someone clearly took their anger out on this beautiful piece. The craftsmanship that went into it must have been incredible before… whatever happened.

I'm about to set it back when a line of gold lettering catches my eye—an inscription carved into the side in flowing script:Honos Per Turbas.

"What do those words mean?" I gesture towards the inscription.

Xavier's shoulders tense. "No idea." His voice is tight and clipped, just like his last response.

Another lie. Whatever happened to this music box, whatever those words mean—it clearly hits a nerve. The playful energy from moments ago has evaporated, replaced by a heavy silence.

I don't push. We may be getting along better, but we're not at the sharing-dark-secrets stage yet. I carefully place the box back on its shelf, exactly as I found it. "So… ready to wind these bad boys up?" I rub my hands conspiratorially, deliberately shifting focus back to our original mission. "Which ones should we wind up first?"

The moment stretches between us—me giving him the space to move past whatever memories that broken box stirred up; him choosing whether to take it.

His posture relaxes slightly. "This one plays the longest…" He points to one of the larger boxes. "Then this one." He gestures to the one beside it. "The others are pretty much the same, I think."

"Cool. We should probably have a game plan." I survey the shelves. "How about we each start with one of the boxes that play longest, then I'll go to the bottom row and you go to the top, and we work our way to the middle."

"Sounds good." Xavier nods, reaching for the first box—a delicate silver cylinder with hand-painted roses. His lips quirk up at the corners. "On three?"

And just like that, we're back—standing here in the quiet hallway, plotting musical mischief like we're co-conspirators in something magical rather than reluctant housemates.

"Ready?" I bounce on my toes, hands hovering over the first music box.

Xavier mirrors my stance. "Born ready."

"Three…" I draw out the word, building suspense.

Xavier's fingers twitch above the wind-up key.

"Two…"

His eyes lock with mine, a spark of mischief dancing in them.

"ONE!"

We dive in, fingers flying over tiny wind-up keys. The first notes tinkle out—a delicate waltz from Xavier's box mixing with what sounds like a lullaby from mine. I scramble to the bottom shelf while Xavier takes the top, our hands moving in a frenzied dance.

Click-click-clickgo the gears as we wind each one to its limit.

"Faster!" I whisper-shout, reaching for my third box. "We've got to get them all going at once."

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