The next morning, Alori shared a private breakfast with her grandmother instead of joining the bards in the dining hall. She wanted Hamoni's opinion on Taelan's reticence, so it was just as well that they keep to themselves. Alori was too close to the situation to make sense of last night herself, so after explaining the fraught conversation she'd had with Taelan on the lighted path, she opened the floor to discussion.
"You scared him, my dear. It's as simple as that," Hamoni said. "You don't know if he's your composer, but I would bet my cane he fancies himself in love with you."
Alori held her teacup between both hands, blowing steam off the rippled surface of the pale green liquid. "Then why continue lying? He can't truly love me. Perhaps I should stop focusing on him."
Hamoni chuckled, rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes. "Have I not warned you about men? When it comes to women, they have no idea what they're doing, only what they want."
"So you agree that I should set my sights elsewhere?"
"You should set your sights on whomever makes you feel like the world is a more wondrous place when you're together. We have so little time here on Eala, and at the end of the day few things matter more than that, even for a future queen."
Alori sipped her tea and nibbled on a dried moon cherry scone, letting her thoughts wander. "Taelan is the only one who stirs anything meaningful within me. When he looks at me, it's like he's trying to tell me something he can't say out loud." She leaned over the table, resting her jaw in her palm. It was unrefined, but she couldn't be bothered to care. "Why would he think he loves me, Hamoni? Maybe he's crazy."
"Oh, I doubt that."
"But we hadn't met before yesterday morning. How can you love someone you don't know? If anything, he's mistaking infatuation for love, and I'm not looking for someone to idolize me."
Hamoni rose from the table, bending over her cane. "You underestimate the effect you have on people. Those you have helped have long memories. Tales of kindness spread as quickly as tales of woe."
"What tales?" Alori slouched, pressing her elbow into the chair's cushioned armrest. "It's only been five years since I became the Shieldmaker, and I haven't accomplished anything of significance. Before Mother died, I..."
She didn't like talking about her mother's illness or the aftermath of her death. The pain she'd felt while watching sickness steal the life from the once vibrant and powerful queen, month by month and then day by day, until Alori had been left a throne she wasn't ready to ascend to, was still unbearable some nights.
"I was more of a burden than a help while she was alive, and I've not done anything remarkable since. I'm not the queen yet, so how could I have left such an impression on anyone?"
During her mother's final languishing weeks, assemblies had been called at the palace, persisting long into the night. While the queen's advisers had had no choice but to appoint the thirteen year old crown princess to the position of Shieldmaker– because Alori was the only one capable of taking on the responsibility– they'd granted her a temporary reprieve from the more tedious roles of state and diplomacy. Until her twentieth birthday, her father, Bard Prince Renji, would rule as king regent. During the interim, Alori was to sit in on legislative assemblies, attend all public events as the Ville-Realms' new figurehead, endeavor to familiarize herself with the running of a queendom plagued by demons, and perhaps most importantly, choose a consort to replace her father as the next bard prince.
Hamoni ambled up to Alori, squeezing her shoulder. "Try not to be so negative. You were an invaluable asset to your mother while she was ill. And before that, right from the beginning, you were keen to know if the people were happy, and if they weren't you tried to make it right. It was not always so in the Ville-Realms. You know the stories."
Of course she did. She had only been reminded a thousand times in a thousand different ways, about the demons that had once decimated their lands before the goddesses descended.
"I don't want to be loved for the legacy of my bloodline, I want to be appreciated for my own deeds, by someone who knows me as more than a title."
Hamoni raised her silver eyebrows. "And when did you decide that choosing your consort should be a love match?"
"I didn't! I'd planned on choosing someone respectful, whose disposition complimented my own, but then Yuka went and turned everything on its head. I was so naïve, I didn't think any of the bards had come here with a primary goal to become the bard prince, and then to find out one of them thinks he loves me? What if there are as many others who would hate to be picked?" Alori huffed, pressing her back to the stiff chair. "At this rate it may be impossible to make a decision."
"Then don't. You have over a year before you ascend the throne. There's no need to rush into marriage."
Alori turned to look up at her grandmother, studying the tilted smile tugging at the older woman's rouged lips.
"You know that wouldn't be wise, Hamoni. The new prince and I will need time to acclimate to working together." Among other things.
"I was just stating your rights, my dear. We both know you are far too pragmatic to procrastinate on such an important matter." She patted Alori's loose blond hair, dropping a light kiss on her forehead. "That doesn't mean you can't stay here a little longer and get to know these boys better, find out who would make the best lover."
"Hamoni!"
"What?" The marchioness stepped back, holding up her hands. "Trust an old woman when she tells you what's important. You don't want to be stuck with a terrible kisser for the rest of your life, do you?"
"I... hadn't thought about it."
"And now you have. You're welcome." Hamoni tapped her cane against the back of Alori's chair, chuckling to herself. "Come on, we don't want to be late for the show. I have a feeling something exciting will happen."
Exciting?
Alori was dubious of her grandmother's prediction, but still too flustered by the talk of lovers and kissing to follow-up with questions.
The clock hanging over the fireplace mantle proved the marchioness was right. If they didn't hurry they would be late for the scheduled performance, and, as the guest of honor, that would be in exceedingly poor taste.
♫♪♫
The stage lights had been reconfigured with a dim golden spotlight center stage and three brighter spotlights surrounding it. Alori suspected that the bench positioned in the middle of the stage was once again meant for her, and was proved correct when Tomso ushered her toward the steps.
The front row next to Hamoni seemed like a perfectly suitable seat, but she decided not to argue.
Tomso held out a thin ribbon of black satin, dropping it over her wrist before executing a deep bow.
Had he just given her a blindfold?
"If you don't mind, Your Highness, this is an exercise we utilize often in practice, and I believe that you might find it helpful to listen without distraction also." His fingers twitched feebly at his waist. "My hands are arthritic, but I'll have one of the bards help you so long as you have no objection."
When she did not oppose, he gestured toward the side of the stage and a young man ducked out from the shadows, walking toward them as Alori sat down on the bench. It wasn't Taelan, Yuka, or Reeve– who probably wouldn't have liked being forced to touch her– but one of the other bards, the big shaggy blond who'd been the first to play yesterday.
Wasn't his name Felix?
He tied and tested the knot at the back of her head, his hands a bit rough on her hair. "It's not too tight, is it, my lady?"
Alori shook her head. "No, it's fine. Thank you."
The blindfold was opaque, and the darkness disconcerting, but Alori understood the concept of the exercise. Oftentimes when she and her father sampled sheet music, she would close her eyes and allow the sound to saturate her senses. Especially when her father played his songs.
But being blindfolded in public was worlds different from closing one's eyes in the privacy of one's own room.
"Enjoy the show, Your Highness."
The towering bard's footsteps were heavy on the stage floor, moving farther away. Alori laid her hands in her lap, feeling incredibly small and vulnerable. How many of the men were watching her now, wondering what she'd think of their performances? How many wanted her approval, and how many hoped she'd pass over them?
How many were laughing at how ridiculous she looked?
If her mother were here, the queen would have told Tomso she wasn't comfortable being blindfolded, and no one would have contradicted her authority. But Alori was too polite, either that or she lacked confidence.
Why was she like this?
"We're just about set up," Tomso called out from some muffled vantage point. Alori imagined him standing in the same spot as yesterday, in his too tight silver tunic with the silly gold belt, his gray hair sticking up at odd angles. She hoped the afternoon wouldn't be a repeat of the previous day, but the spotlights hinted that she was in for trios whether she liked it or not.
Several more sets of feet shuffled onto the stage, and the soft susurration and twang of instruments followed. Alori listened closely as the bards adjusted their instruments and stands, focusing on the quiet noises they made. It sounded like someone was tuning a mandolin– was it Taelan? Someone else was bowing a violin. There was a third, wheezing, metallic-toned instrument in the mix; it might have been one of those new harmonicas she'd heard about.
Hadn't that also been one of the instruments Taelan said he played?
This was unhealthy. She needed to stop ruminating over the raven-haired bard as if no one else existed.
"Today we'll do things a bit differently," Tomso said. "Since we have twenty-one performers, we'll begin with sets of three."
Alori suppressed a groan. Seven trios, was he joking?
"As they play, feel free to point out individual group members who you'd like to discontinue, Your Highness. This will leave the possibility of duos and solos at your discretion. It should give you a fuller sense of the players' flexibility."
Duos and solos at her discretion? That didn't seem like an altogether terrible idea.
Alori tipped her head toward Tomso's voice. "Thank you for the explanation, conductor. I'm looking forward to hearing what the bards have prepared for today."
"Excellent. Very well, then, I believe we are ready to begin."
No sooner had their director spoken than the bards onstage broke into a jarring, fast-paced folksy tune that threatened Alori with a premature heart attack. But as her nerves slowly calmed to the sudden noise, and she became accustomed to the jaunty music that reminded her of something she might hear at the spring Moon Cherry Blossom Festival back home in Ville-Saseum, she realized that her guesses about the players hadn't been far off. A violinist fiddled away to her left, as the layered vibrato of a harmonica echoed through the theater with joyful exuberance, coming from somewhere farther to the right. She'd only mistaken the last instrument, which was a banjo not a mandolin.
What the piece lacked in difficulty, it made up for in rollicking, joyful energy.
Alori considered asking one of the players to stop, but none of them piqued her interest on his own. Certainly, none of them was him.
When the song ended she clapped, hoping it would be enough to keep the trio in high spirits. But she didn't have to be a musician to know it was never pleasant to have one's talent ignored.
During the next few performances she alternated between narrowing down the players to duos, out of guilt, and leaving them intact as trios. By the fifth iteration of this routine she was tired of the pressure, and still certain she hadn't heard Yuka, Taelan, or Reeve play. It was possible they were on different instruments or in separate groups this time, but Tomso claimed that they excelled at each instrument equally, and none of the performers thus far had impressed her like the three of them had yesterday.
Alori closed her eyes behind the blindfold during a lull between groups. Her bottom ached terribly. A woman could only sit on a thinly cushioned bench for so long before her derriere started to lose sensation.
Her thoughts wandered covetously to her soft bed back home at the palace, while another group of feet scuffed onto the stage with confident aplomb and began organizing their set. They whispered to each other, but Alori had given up trying to discern individual voices many minutes ago.
Would it be crude and unseemly if she leaned over her knees and rested her chin on her hand? With the blindfold on, no one would notice if she nodded off for a moment. And even if they did, what could they say? Alori was the crown princess, and these performances had been organized in her honor.
She sat up straighter on principle.
What was going on with her today? Alori hadn't been raised to be so rude. The bards deserved her respect, regardless of the tedium she had to suffer as a consequence.
The sixth trio began playing as she silently admonished herself, the quiet introduction of their song pitter-pattering into the dulled corners of her mind like soft summer rain. The gentle melody might have coaxed her to sleep despite her determination to stay awake, but there was something warm and enticing about the tune. It was candid and arresting in its simplicity. By the end of the first eight count, she'd homed in on the delicate rhythm and found herself humming along. The instruments were layered in subtlety, like flavor notes in a fine wine. Piano, violin, viola. The full effect was haunting and oddly familiar in its understated elegance.
Finally, something worth waiting for! But was it one of his compositions? Alori thought so, but it was different from her favorite composer's usual style. The piano, typically the star of his music and her favorite element in his compositions, was eclipsed by the interplay between the violin and viola, like it had been added as an afterthought.
Alori lifted her hand off her lap and pointed toward the pianist. "Pianissimo, please."
Softer.
The strings were meant to capture the spotlight. The violin was wistful and nostalgic, as if the player were recounting pleasant memories from the past. The viola was hesitant, its responses darker and doubting, as if its past wasn't the kind of history worth remembering. The push and pull between the two instruments was intense, drawing the prick of cool tears to Alori's eyes. Through the brooding mire the violin's encouragement persisted, refusing to let the viola wallow in its suffering. Together they created a powerful, heartbreaking story of bitterness, acceptance and forgiveness.
Alori pressed her hands to her stomach, awed by the complexity of emotion the piece was able to evoke in its short first movement. The composer might think her arrogant for projecting so much into his work, but she couldn't help it. His songs spoke to her soul in ways no one else's did.
The music slowed, coming to a melancholy conclusion. She held up her gloved hands, reaching toward the song like she would touch its essence.
"Please, keep playing."
If this would be the composer's final performance, she needed more from the experience. A second movement, and a third. She had to get a better sense of how these particular players would respond to her magic.
Raising her arms higher, Alori focused on the rhythm of the strings and the gentle lead of the piano as they seamlessly transitioned into a livelier but still familiar tune at her command. Harnessing the raw sonic energy from the air, she extended a thread of power back to the players, guiding the magic forward and between them.
The shapes of invisible runes danced on her fingertips, weaving strength into the song, imbuing it with words of fortitude and spirit to bolster spells she might choose to cast. The sheer potential of using her magic so near a live performance of such caliber was invigorating. The music intensified as the channel remained open, the violinist's bow trembling against the strings. The viola's melancholy became darker and more palpable. Alori felt the weight of big, glossy tears forming behind her eyes. She stood up, entranced by the dynamic sensations assailing her, and began to move her body to the song's steady, driving rhythm.
It was as if nothing existed but the music and her divine connection to it. The longer she danced, the light material of her gown clinging to the curves of her body as she swayed, the stronger her magic became– ERA, and the bits of darkness she always kept hidden– all of it building and shaping the well of power that fed her vast repertoire of spells.
With His music as her guidepost, she stopped worrying about the insurmountable burden she bore everyday to exemplify the crown, and all the expectations of the queendom. She even forgot about the game she'd unwillingly become embroiled in with these bards.
With a gracefully pointed finger, she twisted the direction her body bade.
"Stop." There was no judgment, only the desire to allow her magic the freedom it sought.
The music and her dancing continued, the sound richer somehow despite the abrupt loss of the third player. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Alori knew she was sweaty and salacious, moving in ways she'd only allowed in the privacy of her bedchamber or the observatory when she was alone. But this– this was what it felt like to thread with his music, while he played.
This was their song.
Alori twisted and turned, hands and feet and hips moving of their own accord. The air around her sizzled with magic, sweet and intoxicating, and she knew the bards felt it too.
She smiled, imagining what they might be thinking, what he was thinking, and the bottom of her skirt caught under her shoe. Before she knew what was happening, she was falling. The sensation while blindfolded was terrifying. An arm came under her before she hit the ground, pulling her back up. She smelled cinnamon and pine and felt the blunt edge of wood pressed against her side.
"Are you hurt?" Taelan.
"N-no, I'm fine." She'd barely gotten the words out before he was gone, everything but the heat of his touch on her arm.
Why hadn't he said anything else? Was he not allowed to? Was he disappointed in her lewd behavior?
The music started back up just where it had left off. Alori wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or grateful for the smooth transition away from her mishap. But even if everyone pretended she hadn't almost knocked herself out in her wild, magical euphoria, she couldn't fool herself into believing it.
The violin and viola continued despite her stagnation– or because of it, she wasn't sure anymore– rising in duet.
How had she not realized she'd stopped the pianist?
One of the remaining players was Taelan. After all, he'd been holding a bow. But which one was he, and who was the other? Both were flawless. It was as if their instruments were an extension of themselves, like magic was to Alori after so many years of dedicated practice. It would come down to a matter of taste, she decided. But did she prefer the violin's brighter tone, its almost manic determination, or the viola's precision and understated depth?
Hadn't Taelan said he played violin? But the viola was a similar instrument. Maybe he played both– or was she misremembering? Did she even want the last player to be Taelan?
Alori reclaimed the bench, wringing her hands while the song drifted around her, waves of chaotic magic ebbing away like seafoam tickling her skin, until they effervesced into nothing.
The violin was such a lovely instrument with a clear, resonant sound, but the viola was captivating, thoughtful, and its color was so vibrant.
"Stop. Please."
It came out harsher than she'd intended, almost hysterical. The violin ceased abruptly on a harmonic note, the sharp sound echoing the tone her own voice had taken. Its final cry vibrated through her limbs, as if reluctant to release her from its grasp.
The violist continued playing. He didn't understand. Alori hadn't asked the violinist to stop because she longed to hear a solo, she simply wanted this overwhelming performance to be over. All of it– the threading of her magic, the dancing, the falling– had filled her with a dizzying jumble of emotions that threatened to spill over in an unbridled sob. And the damned blindfold wasn't helping. She pulled it down around her neck with shaking hands, then opened her eyes, wincing through the pain from the bright lights.
When her vision cleared, one bard was left standing alone in the spotlight across from her, a viola raised to his chin as he slid his bow across the string. He finished with a flourish before lowering the instrument. A sly grin spread across his too-handsome face.
"Hello, my lady."
Alori cursed under her breath.
"Hello, Yuka."