Page 55 of Song of the Dawn
Mila
Later that morning, I returned to my room. The inn was strangely quiet without the guests, and when I opened the door to the washroom, Rachelle’s door lay wide open, her room empty. She must have already left with Rabon, dashing off with the horses, on an adventure. She’d gained all the things she’d desired: horses, love, and the opportunity to leave the Dawn. Would she ever return?
Drawing a bath, I took my time, washing and soaking as if I could wash away the very essence of Ezra. It kissed my skin, sending shivers up my spine. If this was what it meant to be blinded by love, I did not care. Wrapped in a towel, I brushed the knots out of my hair and braided it to the side. Opening the wardrobe, I stared at my dresses, realizing I hadn’t bothered to unpack my bag. No matter; I’d take it with me to Ezra’s tower. As I brushed my fingers over the dresses left hanging, a wooden box caught my eye. Parting the dresses, I stared at a box. No, not a box—a case.
My heart flipped, for I’d forgotten about my grandfather’s old violin. I’d brought it with me on a whim, but now I opened it and stroked my fingers lovingly over the swells of the body. It was old, the strings broken. Blood rushed to my ears. What if it was made from the type of wood that Ezra needed? He didn’t know I’d brought another violin, and my intent had been to restring it, to restore respect to the old instrument. After all, it was its broken strings that had brought me to the foothills of Lagoda. Heart pounding, I closed the case, aware I had only a slight chance, but it would be enough if I could help Ezra, if I could save him.
After dressing and setting the two violins by my bag, I sat to write a letter to Mother and Aveline. Each time I set the pen to paper, the words would not come. What was I trying to say? That I’d fallen in love with a man who wasn’t from this world and I needed to help him send a demon through a portal? The more I thought about it, the more I sounded like a raving lunatic. They’d come at once to have me committed, and it was much too dangerous for them here. How ironic. A demon was on the loose and all I could think about was how it appeared I’d lost my mind.
With a sigh, I gave up and left the letter unwritten.
Ezra wasn’t waiting for me when I returned to the tower, and it was odd to walk into the atrium and see all the statues frozen in place, as if one whisper, one word, was all they needed to speak again. A shiver went through me as I recalled Ezra’s words. He’d summoned spirits and sent them into his statues, but the magic that had brought them to life had turned them into monsters. Why, then, did he have to keep them there?
“Ezra?” I called out, a thread of unease going up my spine. It was broad daylight. Why was I afraid? Nothing lurked in the shadows.
“Mila.” He stepped out from behind the stairs, polishing a tool.
The way he smiled at me sent a surge of determination through me. I would do this. Leaving my grandfather’s violin and bag by the door, I went to him. “I brought the violin. Shall we begin?”
A flicker of darkness crossed his face, his emotions still surging, warring within. But he nodded at me once. “Let’s go upstairs. I have much to teach you.”
Years of poor practice did not simply disappear, but Ezra was a patient teacher, showing me how to hold the bow. The tune was fast and complex, a melody long and intense to summon, to form, to create. By the time we finished, my arms ached and my fingers were sore from flying up and down the neck of the violin. Inside I felt alive, as if my playing was doing something, moving something.
“El fin,” Ezra proclaimed, clasping his hands together.
With a sigh, I rolled my neck back and forth. “I did more today than in the months I’ve been here.”
Taking the violin from me, he wiped the strings before replacing it and the bow in a case. “I know, and this will not be easy, for either of us. But it was for good reason you were spared this.”
Ezra
The threads of captivity tightened around my neck like a noose as precious freedom became so much nearer and dearer. If the sorceress could see me now, she’d laugh, her syrupy voice ripping through the shreds of sanity I had left to tell me it was all impossible, all part of her devious, devilish plan. I’d seen her punish others, and I knew better than to hope, because my hope gave Mila hope, and she didn’t know that the sorceress disliked happy endings. She enjoyed others’ pain, and the absence of pleasure made her strong. She thrived on blood and brokenness, and the darker the crime, the more power it gave her. When I stepped across the portal to deliver her dark messenger, I could not count on her to keep her word. After all, she’d changed her mind every time I’d been on the cusp of freedom, flinging my own words back in my face. I had no recourse, no way to ensure she’d keep her word, when I was the one who’d wronged her, subject to eternal damnation.
But Mila was pure and beautiful and strong. At first she struggled with the violin, but each day she improved, her fingers moving swiftly like a bird in flight, down the neck of the violin. The haunting tones to open the portal poured out, muted only by the lack of magic the violin carried. How could I let her do this? If the sorceress knew about Mila and my love for her, it would be the bait to seal my death. For I’d do anything, everything, to keep her out of the sorceress’s reach. Portal magic was too dangerous, but I couldn’t lie to her again.
My violin, though, was almost done, sculpted from the wood of an ancient hazel tree. With magic, the age of trees mattered. The older, the better. My fingers could sense the magic hidden within the wood, and I carved, breathing prayers the music would hold, that it would be enough to cast the demon back into her realm. It was a truth I’d never shared with Mila, for I’d never had the strength to summon a demon before. Spirits of the dead often floated to me, and when I was young, I’d used the music to lull them back to their eternal resting place. It was a gift, the ability to give peace to souls, with music, a gift that could have been used for good. But I’d never been a selfless man. Born with nothing, I’d wanted everything, and now…I’d seen how hollow wealth and power and magic were. Now all I wanted was a second chance, a lifetime with her. If I was lucky, I’d get a few more days.
“Almost done?” Mila’s sultry question floated to my ears, and I lifted my head, banishing my morose thoughts. A spot of sunlight graced her, and she looked like a queen, violet hair cascading around her shoulders, cream-colored dress clinging to her curves while her brown eyes danced over my work. My heart squeezed, and breathing turned painful, as if a sharp knife was caught between my ribs. If I could go back to the moment I saw her play in the hall, a place I had no business being, aside from my interest in music, would I still bring her here now I knew the outcome?
“Yes, it just needs strings.” The words sounded ominous coming from my lips, because as soon as the strings were on the instrument, it would be time to walk out into the night and play one last song.
“Speaking of strings.” Mila held up a case. “Will you restring this violin for me?”
“Your violin has strings…”
“No, this is my grandfather’s violin. I brought it with me because it’s the one thing I’ve had since childhood. I didn’t want to just leave it behind. But the strings are broken, and I haven’t taken the time to repair them.”
“Of course, I’ll do so now.” Mostly because I wanted to delay what would happen next and spend more time with her. Our final moments, and I could not be sure of what would happen next, nor could I prepare for the best outcome. That was the thing about the Tower Knights. We were all punished, but I did not know what happened to them after a punishment was carried out. Were any of them able to break the curse, to tear free from the clutches of the sorceress and find happiness? Did any of them deserve peace, with their magic, wild and untenable, calling out to the darkness within?
I cleared a space on my worktable, and Mila placed the case on top. While she opened it, I stood behind her, breathing in her scent, my cock pressed against the curves of her bottom. She shifted, and already I tasted her arousal and slid my hand around her waist, holding her still as I kissed her neck.
“Ezra,” she whispered, her voice breathy, catching as her tongue stumbled over my name.
I could hear it again and again, and it would never be enough.
Releasing her, I moved to her side. “No matter what happens, never doubt my love for you.”
“We are going to win,” she said firmly.
