I play until the song has ended—far longer than I expected. In the lull I sneak off the platform. It’s darker on the ground. I didn’t realize how deep night had fallen underneath the glowing bell-flowers that magically illuminated the performers.
“You were amazing!” Raph claps his hands as Davien puts him down. The two have made their way to me. “Thanks for letting me hear.”
“Of course.”
“You were amazing,” Davien echoes in a whole different way, one that makes my heart skip a beat.
“But, uh, miss, I’m gonna need it back now.” Raph taps the bottom of the lute. “Y’see, I kinda borrowed it. You didn’t really say you had to keep it. And… Sorry.”
His words become weaker, softer, no doubt because he sees my expression. I can’t conceal my longing and regret. I curl and uncurl my fingers around the instrument, convincing myself that I can let it go. It was fun while it lasted, just like this whole world.
“No,” Davien says. “Raph, you tell whoever it is that I will personally see they have a new instrument.”
“Huh? Really? You can do that?”
“I can.”
“It’s all right.” I hand the lute back to Raph. I don’t know the history of this lute. It might be as sentimental to someone else as my mother’s lute is to me. A fine instrument like this is meant to be passed down, between family, between friends. “It was worth it just to play. Thank you.”
Raph takes the instrument and scurries away. It’s wrenching to see it go. But I already have a lute back in the human world. One far finer and far more meaningful than any I could ever find here.
“I suppose it’s for the best.” Davien encroaches on my space. One hand lands on my hip, gliding around to the small of my back. The other laces fingers with mine. “If you were holding a lute, I couldn’t dance with you.”
“I’m not much of a dancer.”
He tilts his head back, narrowing his eyes skeptically. “I think you are.”
“You think wrong.”
Davien leans in, placing his lips on the shell of my ear. “I’ve spent months watching how your body moves.” His hand presses lower, gripping my flesh. “You have music in you, and the grace of a dancer.”
“I don’t—” I don’t get to object. He sweeps me off my feet, drawing forth a soft yelp of surprise. His toes crunch under my heel. “I told you I’m not a good dancer.”
“Stop worrying so much. Just move, Katria. Move with me.”
His voice, that tone…as sumptuous and slow as a bow drawn across the lowest note on a fiddle. The demand resonates within me like the tumbling of the feet in the square. I press my hips against his. Every shift of his weight moves his thighs against mine. I follow on instinct, not worrying about the fool I must look because—when my eyes meet his—there’s only him.
My chest against his. His arm encircling my waist. His tunic, cut low, reveals the firm plane of chest I saw in the moonlight back in the woods. His crown a shimmering reminder of just how forbidden he should be to my very human hands. I’m breathless and not just from the dance. I gasp, barely holding back from begging for more—I want everything I’ve always denied myself.
I want to dare. I want to dance. I want to be someone I have never been even if it’s only for one night.
The music stops and cheers erupt. People clear the square as the musicians take a break. But Davien’s eyes are only on me, breaths heavy.
“You need to come with me.”
“Anywhere,” I pant softly.
Everything is left behind as Davien pulls me into the main hall of Dreamsong. There are a few people milling about. The celebration has spilled across the city, painting it with song and joy in the colors of autumn and winter grays. He leads me upstairs and all the way to the door at the end of the hall.
It’s his room.
The four-poster bed is boxy, simple, not the ornate furniture I’d expect of a king. It’s made of a dark wood, the grains catching the moonlight like currents in a river. Navy, velvet curtains reveal more pillows than I’d expect. He has an armoire, desk, and sitting area that opens to a small balcony overlooking all of Dreamsong.
Davien guides me to the chair positioned before the opening. He sits next to me, our thighs touching. His hand still lingers on mine.
“Sing for me again,” he whispers.
“What do you want to hear?” I breathe. I couldn’t sing right now if I tried. My throat is too tense. Mind blank.
