to a nightingale

TWO

Though Azriel insists on walking Gwyn to her apartment, and gives her a quick hug before she crosses the threshold, her photo doesn't make it on the internet or any gossip magazine. Instead, by morning, the headlines are filled with raves about the new Bat Boys album, Twitter going wild to figure out each reference to Feyre and Nesta, though the real focus has become the identity of the Nightingale, a project that has already racked up a million Tweets and at least a dozen memes, though Gwyn performs this count before she has her coffee. Clotho calls to give her the morning off to celebrate and pack, and Gwyn spends most of that time hovering between her phone and her suitcase. She selects and discards a half-dozen outfits before throwing clothes in and hoping for the best.

By the time Gwyn makes it to the House of Wind offices, dragging her suitcase behind her, Twitter has decided that Elain, the middle Archeron sister, must be the Nightingale. #ThreeBrothersThreeSisters is trending, and there are photostories connecting a necklace that Azriel sings about with a pendant Elain sometimes wears around her neck, a rose with opal petals that refract the light into rainbows.

Clotho's in the middle of a conference call with a potential investor, but waves Gwyn into her office, pulling up Twitter on her phone.

Write about the Nightingale, she mouths, and Gwyn's stomach sinks. Because she can't lie, but she's afraid to tell the truth.

She falls into her favorite chair at one of the long communal tables where staffers work and fills the next hours researching and trying to calm her swirling thoughts. In the end, she's surprised with how much she likes the piece, which shows why Elain is unlikely to be the Nightingale, how at minimum, her golden-brown hair and deep brown eyes do not match the description in the lyrics. She makes a plea to allow artists to enjoy a little mystery, to enjoy the story without trying to pin it to real life.

She ends with a question: Don't we all want to imagine we're the Nightingale?

When she emails the file to Merrill, an urgent editorial request blessed by Clotho, she dreads the scrutiny of their brilliant and fearsome senior editor.

"You actually put some thought into this, Berdara," Merrill writes back within the hour, "I thought this would be a puff piece I'd have to deflate, but you've done pretty well. Not sure about the last question, though. Might raise questions about your objectivity. My other notes on the doc in red."

The edits aren't as bad as Gwyn had worried they would be, and she files the piece two hours later, with plenty of time to head to grab a quick dinner before watching The Bat Boys' first show of the tour. She even has a few minutes to arrange her favorite pens alongside her notebook and recorder before she leaves for the arena.

Around her, the office is filled with the sound of fingers clacking on keyboards. Clotho gives her a little wave, and Gwyn wonders why it feels so final, leaving the House of Wind like this. She'll be back soon, she reminds herself, the same person she is right now.

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There's a moment in between their last moments backstage and the first chord when the Bat Boys transform. Gwyn has seen it before with other bands, but the transformation is more profound. Rhys gives Feyre a last kiss, Cassian wraps his arms around Nesta, Azriel checks the tuning on his bass one last time, and when they turn to the stage, they're larger than life, some kind of magic blazing in their eyes.

The screaming audience goes silent as they begin Your Starlight Eyes with no preamble, and Gwyn wishes for a second that she could just let herself be swept away by the music, those three voices in harmony.