The Infernal King | 1 ✓

CHAPTER XXXVIII | A BALLAD OF DESPAIR

       SOMETIME AFTER MAARIT had savoured every last drop of her tea, leaving only the bitter residue of tea leaves at the bottom of her cup, her eyelids began to grow heavy. Though her legs were sore and the floor was uncomfortable, the book she was holding began to slip from her fingers, settling onto her lap. For a moment, she stirred and tried to shake herself awake—she simply had to try out a spell to see if it'd work. But perhaps now was not the best time. She allowed her eyes to fall closed like shutters, knowing she could surely afford to wait until her mind was refreshed.

It was then that she heard it.

A beautiful, lilting melody that struck a chord inside her, resounding down to her very core.

Though it should have lulled her deeper into the embrace of slumber, she found instead that it entranced her. Pulled her back to reality. At once, her eyes shot open and she scrambled to her feet, the book she had been holding discarded on the floor. The music was faint and distant, yet she could still make out each of the delicate notes.

She was curious who was playing it; yet, more than anything, she found that she wanted to get closer, to be able to distinguish each of the crescendos. Swaying slightly from exhaustion, Maarit weaved her way through the library shelves—the sun had set and the room was dark—and dashed toward the double doors.

The song was louder out in the hallway, without an extra set of doors to muffle it. Maarit could now tell that the sound originated from a piano. Could it have been Theodoracius? Had he ever mentioned being able to play the piano before? She couldn't recall.

       Still, with both trepidation and excitement settling in her bones, she followed the sound. As she walked down the corridor, she knew she was headed in the right direction when, suddenly, she could feel the vibrations of music in her blood. She turned down a corner she was positive she never had before. Knowing very well that she was probably lost, she remembered something Alexander had told her once about the paintings on the walls being clues as to what lay beyond certain doors.

She trailed her eyes over the paintings on the walls. They were the most beautiful ones thus far, depicting masked people and costumed ballet dancers perched atop a stage. The theatre, Maarit thought to herself, her gaze raking over the walls until they settled on a door.

       Slowly, carefully, she nudged it open and peered into the room. It was indeed a theatre, with rows upon rows of vacant seats and a stage at the very front. The theatre was beautiful; she found herself wishing she had known of its existence sooner. For some reason, they had neglected to show it to her.

A red curtain was drawn, but behind the rippling red fabric was the source of the mellifluous sound that had pulled her in. She trod carefully towards the stage, eager to peek through the curtain and see who the pianist was.

       As soon as she set foot on the ebony floor of the stage, she felt the vibrations grow stronger, resonating throughout her entire body. Gently, her fingers found the space between the two red curtains and she pulled it back slightly—just enough to allow her to look discreetly through.

       It was him, as she had suspected. His back was to her, but she could identify him from the shape of his frame.

       Yet somehow, the fact that Theodoracius was the one playing the piece made it even more captivating to her. His shoulders were slumped over the instrument and his hands moved rapidly across the keys. She had never understood before how songs without words could carry meaning until that very moment when it simply struck her, and all of the notes and rhythms and the way he struck the keys made sense.