Page 81 of The Muse (Beautiful Magic 1)
“I realized I’m not the same as before. I haven’t been the same since I fell in love with you.”
The last night at the museum, when we parted outside the doors, she was clinical and friendly. She didn’t seem to feel anything at all. That Clio was worlds different from the woman in the painting.
“You remember all that?” I ask.
“I never forgot all that, but it was just . . . a fact.” She tucks her hair behind her ear in such a human gesture my heart stutters. “But when I started working again, it was more than remembering. It was feeling. And the feelings didn’t go away. They’re part of who I am now.”
I hold in a breath. I hold in all the breaths in the city. The potential in what she’s saying hangs before me like a fragile snow globe I don’t want to drop, don’t want to break.
“And so, I went to Thalia to ask her for something.”
I let myself hope.
I hope so much it hurts. But I’ll take it. Because I think maybe, just maybe, it’s the kind of hurt that leads to something magical on the other side.
35
Clio
* * *
The entire world feels new and brimming with possibility.
Excitement, anticipation, and hope all collide inside me in a mad frenzy, rushing to break free.
I want to tell Julien everything that happened last night.
Everything that happened before, starting with the power of memory, with how my heart and mind and soul went back to him, piece by piece, every time I inspired an artist.
All that love I channeled reminded me of all the love I had in the museum, in the paintings, in his arms.
He’s waiting, and it’s time to finish my tale and find out how it ends.
I glance back at Thalia, who’s been waiting patiently and watching curiously. I motion for her to join us for this part, and when she does, nodding silently to Julien, I dive in.
“I went to Thalia and asked her to right a wrong.”
She takes my arm, squeezes it affectionately. “She offered me a rare opportunity. Not everyone gets to fix a mistake.”
I’m so proud of my sister Muse. Proud of her for saying yes.
Proud of her for knowing it was time to let me go.
I raise my hands, letting the sleeves of my shirt fall to my elbows. “No more bracelets.”
His eyes widen as they land on my bare wrists then fly to my face. I’m still amazed myself.
And here’s the most astounding, marvelous, incredible thing that I’m bursting to tell him: “I’m not a Muse anymore.”
My God, it is wonderful to say.
It’s wonderful to be.
“It was my choice,” I say, laying my hand on my heart. “I expected I’d fall out of love with you, and I thought I had. But the memories of us kept the love alive. Suddenly, I wanted something I’ve never wanted in all my years—a life outside of what I knew. A world beyond a painting.”
Julien seems to drink in what I’m saying, working it out, but not quite fully comprehending it yet. “Not a Muse anymore? Is that possible?”
I nod because I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
But I want to say the rest. This man gave up his whole heart for the world’s art. He gave up love to restore beauty. He let go for the sake of something bigger than us.
“I asked Thalia to unmake me.”
He frowns and looks at Thalia. “You did that?”
She clears her throat. “She’s no longer eternal. No longer bound. No longer a muse of any kind.”
I shrug, unable to make it simpler than this: “I’m just a woman. That is all.”
That’s what clicks for him. He believes in the impossible.
Like art coming alive.
Like a pencil drawing something into reality.
Like stepping into another world.
That’s how I feel right now.
I want to inhale this world—drink it in, live in it, love in it, be in it.
“You’re a woman outside the garden,” Julien says in a hushed voice.
“I am no longer wandering in irises. I can wander anywhere. With my own two feet. I can’t travel by painting anymore and it’s wonderful to walk everywhere,” I say the same way, full of awe and joy. I sigh gently, happily, then turn to Thalia. “I’ll miss you too. But you’ll take good care of the art, right?”
“It’s on my to-do list forevermore.” Thalia taps her heart then her own bracelets. She has two on each wrist now, hers and mine.
Julien glances between us, realization no doubt dawning and turning to shock and dismay. “You’re not going to see each other again?”
I feel the same, but I’ve had a few more hours than he has to process this. I knew it was part of my choice, but knowing you’ll leave and saying goodbye are worlds apart.
Thalia shakes her head, and her voice breaks. “Not often. I’m quite busy and will be even busier now. But I’ve had more than a century to get used to not seeing Clio,” she tells him with a gentle smile for me. “We made do without her then, and with one human muse on the scene now, and maybe more to come, we’ll have help.”
