When the charming and mysterious Baron Zemo enters your life without warning, you must learn how to balance the joys of an unexpected romance, and your love for the stage by meeting fate head on using the only tool you have; the gift of your voice...
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Bird song usually soothes you in the mornings.
Your bed is near the window and when the nurse leaves it open you can feel the cool breeze and hear the sparrows, but this morning you're in pain and you wish you could quiet the little beasts.
You had a nightmare, that must be what it is. Your dreams have always been vivid, ever since you were a child. So much so that they set the tone for your day.
This one is a replaying of the night you almost died.
You've had it before, for better or worse it is typically the same, but this time, he was there just watching as the butcher hacked away.
You woke with your pulse racing, scared for a while until the sparrows calmed you, and then the pain kicked in and now you are just angry.
It isn't true. You know he's the one paying for your care or else you would have been sent home weeks ago.
Instead you have a private nurse and this beautiful room on this quiet floor far from the chaos below.
Your doctor speaks kindly when he comes to do his rounds which is nice but he checks your wound which is a specific form of torment you would not wish on your enemy.
It is too hard for you to speak when he asks how you feel, but you write with chalk on the little slate they've given you and when he is done prodding, they give you fresh bandages and let you sleep.
Eating slowly becomes easier too— when you have an appetite.
Turning your head from the bright light of day, you look at the vase on the table beside your bed and stare at the single dead rose.
It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes after your surgery. Someone had placed it on your bed while you slept after they stitched you back together and you've kept it, refusing to let them throw it away.
Once, you overheard the doctor say that the assailant was in a hurry. The theatre was a risky place to commit such a crime and get away with it. His careleness and your bouquet which took the some of the impact of his assault are all that kept you alive.
To your face the doctor insisted that with time and rest you would speak again.
You still do not have the heart to ask about singing.
*
Baron Zemo likes the hunt.
It's been a while since he has, but not long enough that he's forgotten how it's done, or how much he enjoys it.
Patience and observation are his weapons and he'd spent the past few days using both.
He'd started by stripping away his fine clothes and concealing his wealth with worn shoes, a tattered coat and the hat of a man no one would notice. He left the pretty summer mansions behind, forgetting the charm of street lamps and manicured topiaries.
