Page 1 of Song of the Dawn
Ezra
“Iwant it back!” Unable to restrain my shimmering rage, I smashed my fist into the stone table.
My knuckles cracked, sending a sprout of crimson gushing down my fingers. The burst of pain that shot up my arm made me feel alive, as though I had some control over my fate. Although, losing my temper in front of the sorceress was futile; she was all-powerful, and I was delicious prey for her insidious games.
Crossing her bare legs, she tapped her clawlike nails on the white bone of her throne and stared at me with somber black eyes. “Ezra,” she scolded, lips pursed, her manner beguiling. “Anger does not become you. Besides, you’ll have it back once you’ve completed my terms.”
The problem with getting angry with the sorceress was that it didn’t bother her at all. She waved her hand as if I was a mere nuisance instead of a knight who’d fallen out of favor. Except our relationship went much deeper than that. I’d broken a sacred vow, and she was well within her rights to punish me for eternity.
Grinding my teeth, I took a deep breath to keep from exploding again. The scents of incense and myrrh stung my nostrils. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, yet each time I return, you change the requirements—”
Her cruel, disdainful laugh cut me off midsentence, making a muscle in my cheek spasm. I hated interruptions, and she knew it. Another wave of resentment surged, but instead of punching stone, I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into the skin of my palm. My gaze shifted past her bare legs to the pyramid of skulls surrounding the throne. Why didn’t she take my head and add it to her collection? I suspected we’d both be happier.
“You have a lesson to learn, Ezra,” the sorceress cooed in her superior tone. “Everything isn’t about you, nor have the terms changed. You simply perceive them differently. If you bring me enough magic to bind the King of Hearts, I will discharge you from my services. Only then, and not a moment before, will I return it to you. Now go, play your violin and summon a foul servant for me.”
“How do I know you will keep your word this time?”
“Because you are the one who has failed before, not I.”
The sorceress stood, her sheer white gown rippling like water over her body as she bent to lift a skull, tapping it in warning. “You have twelve cycles of the moon to complete your mission, because I’m tired of waiting. If you delay, I will take another one of your loyalists and destroy them.”
She dropped the skull, which landed with a sickening crack that echoed through the cavern. “You may lose your temper, dear Ezra, but I am the sorceress because I perceive the hearts and minds of people. I know what they crave and how to manipulate them until they swear utter fealty. I should have cast you away a long time ago. Anyone else might have, but I see one final use for you. You aren’t as far gone as my other knights who sinned and fell from grace. But you’ll never dwell under the protection of my name again. The faster you do this, the sooner we’ll never see each other thereafter.”
The swimming madness in her soulless eyes was the only thing that kept me from protesting even though fury clogged my throat, threatening to choke me. But she was right. I’d sealed my fate the moment I’d broken my vow. Freedom was within reach once I completed this last task. Although, part of me feared she’d lock me up or kill me once I was no longer useful to her. Evidently banishment was not enough. I promised myself if, by some miracle, I gained a second chance, I’d never use magic again, for I had opened the door to demons and paid dearly for it.
“You’ll give it back,” I demanded hoarsely, “the moment I send that foul beast through the portal to you.”
“The very moment,” she purred, placing her foot on a skull. “Now go, Sorcerer of Portals, and do your worst. I will accept nothing less.”
Turning from that somber chamber, a cave of conquered bone, I strode with purpose to the portal. The vortex of light, deep purple and soulless black, flickered, encouraging me to slip through and return to the realm of mortals. It did not matter what I wanted when I’d broken my vow to the sorceress and she’d caught me.
Punishment was severe, and anyone else would have been grateful to still draw breath, but the reminder of what I’d done was mentally agonizing. Even though she’d banished me from her realm, she kept me tethered to her, like a child suckling on its mother’s milk. To tighten the metaphorical noose around my neck, she’d taken something precious from me, and I desperately needed it back.
The portal flashed, a million silvery stars reflecting the heavens. I moved through it, ignoring the intense cold until I stumbled out of the depths of starlight into the pale glimmer of dawn. Leaning against the rough wall of the cave, I gasped for breath, waiting for my energy to return. The wounds on my knuckles healed themselves, the skin knitting together as if I’d never broken it. I scowled, for it only served as a remnant of her court, a reminder of what she could do to me, even beyond the portal.
The thunder of the cascading waterfall pulled me out of my morose thoughts. Straightening my blue waistcoat, I walked across the dew-damp ground. It would take less than an hour to return to the inn I now called home, but after my audience with the sorceress, my mind wouldn’t calm itself enough to sleep.
I hoped the stagecoach to the city would be ready, for I needed a diversion to take my mind off the endless days I served, hoping for freedom. Upon my return, I’d focus on summoning the monster the sorceress demanded. But if it escaped, if I could not control it with my song, I would damn myself and the Dawn to the grave.
Mila
Tawny candlelight flickered in the hollows of the wide hall, casting malevolent shadows on the walls. I watched the frightful shapes they created and swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trickling down my neck. No monsters hid within those shadows. It was just my nerves making my eyes play tricks on me. Standing in the shallow entryway beside the black curtain that covered the stage, I shifted from foot to foot as I waited for the signal to enter and perform.
The symphony was new, the pungent stink of paint and drying mortar still too fresh and potent to be comfortable, but I waited for my chance. This was it.
Straightening my shoulders, I urged words of encouragement through my mind and tried to relax the death grip I had on my violin, painfully aware it needed new strings. If I gained one of the prestigious positions at the symphony hall, there would be plenty of money to replace the strings and even save up to buy a new violin. Instruments were expensive, and I should treasure mine more, especially since it had come from my grandfather, but it was old.
Every little noise increased my agitation. The scratch of the conductor’s pen, the pacing of his assistant, the steady tap of Lady Hawthorne’s high-heeled shoes against the carpeted floor. A recent tragedy at a remote castle called High Tower had caused an influx of musicians to enter the city of Solynn, searching for work at the symphony. Aside from the opera, the hall recommended musicians for the private balls and galas hosted by influential lords and ladies. Occasionally a wealthy lord would sponsor a musician to play at all their parties, and the sum was better than what I could make as a lady’s maid. Tonight’s audition would determine if I possessed enough skill to secure a position. I had my doubts, for the woman who had gone before me was magnificent. Listening to the way she played—drawing emotions from the strings of her instrument—reminded me of my lack of skill. But I was confident given the opportunity to practice, I’d soon be as good as her.
The conductor cleared his throat. “Mila Hadria, you may perform.”
Licking my lips, I shook back my purple hair and strode out onto the stage. My long skirts rustled, adding to the faint sounds in the room. The spotlight was bright, blinding, but I blinked quickly as I took a seat. Tucking the violin under my chin, I sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out, counting each heartbeat. When I closed my eyes, I felt everything, the stillness of my body, the pounding of my pulse, the lump of anticipation swelling in my throat. This was a pivotal moment. My one and only chance to become a musician and provide for myself and Mother.
I decided not to think about the dingy flat we lived in or Mother’s recent injury, which had quickly drained our savings. I would not think of how late the rent was, nor the threats from the landlord if we did not pay in full. The only thing that mattered was music.
When my fingers touched the strings, the shadowy hall, the scratch of the pen, and the odor of paint melted away. It was just the music and me. Lifting my bow, I drew it across the strings, sending a sonorous melody through the hall. It vibrated and echoed, filling the air with life.
Drawing strength from those first few strands, I pressed my calloused fingertips against the strings and played. With each note, my confidence grew, and the music swelled. I played slow, then fast, to show off the breadth of my skills. Tapping my foot against the floor to keep the rhythm, I increased the tempo, my fingers dancing over the neck of the violin, the bow vibrating in my fingers. This was what I loved.
