Daughter of Night (A Daughter of Nyx novel)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Three days later, she woke, stretching, and relishing the lightness in her heart. While one of them couldn't, or wouldn't love her, the other came close. And over the last few nights, they spent more time together, each knowing they were playing with fire, tiptoeing along an extremely thin line. It had become a running joke as to which would fall first.

Her phone was on the table and she needed to know what time it was. There was something she wanted to do before anyone got up. Something for her and her alone. The view from that picture window was gorgeous and she was aching to play again, in the sunlight with the warmth raining on her.

Checking the time, she realized she had about a hour and a half left.

Rushing through her shower, she dressed quickly before squeezing the water from her tangled hair. No time to brush it out, she threw the mass up in her clip. Underwear was followed by dark purple leggings and an over-sized cream sweatshirt. Socks covered her feet and she was headed to what she called the music parlor.

The case was laying on the chaise and she could already hear the music. And her fingers ached with the need to let it into the world. But, first things first. Unable to care if Elliot would be angry at her moving things around, or know when he was coming back, she took the stool from the side of the harp and set in in the center of the windows. Standing up, she looked out and yes. It was exactly how she imagined it. Peaceful and serene. The heat of the late afternoon sun pushing away the chill she could imagine from the air outside.

It was time.

Opening the case, she once again ran her fingers over the dust-free varnish. Retrieving the bow, she tightened the screw then pulled the instrument from the case. Straightening her spine, she positioned the violin before resting her chin in place. Bach's violin concerto in G minor felt right, except she didn't have the sheet music for it. Perhaps Schubert. Standchen. And she lost herself in music. From Schubert to Beethoven, a little Bach, though not the concerto, then onto Chopin's Nocturne. The haunting melody of that seemed to fit her life. Brahms was next.

Ten years wasted. Ten years. Yes, she was rusty. Yes, she missed some notes and a few thing sounded a bit off, but it was things that she could get back. She could return what was stolen from her. What she was afraid she could never get back.

The sun had set and twilight filled the sky and her arms were a little sore, but there was one piece she couldn't get up without playing.

Dropping her arms, she rolled her head, easing the stiffness in her shoulders. Then, it was time. Romantic Pieces had been something that she had played almost everyday. She had played it the day she lost everything. And she got it back.

Resuming her position, she took a deep breath, followed by another. Time was lost to her as she filled her mind with the remembered beautiful notes. She barely noticed darkness of the room. It didn't matter. She could play in the moonlight. But this piece of music, it wasn't something she could pass up. This was etched on her heart. One more deep breath and she let Dvorak fill her soul and she bled him from her fingers.

The first notes never failed to send her to a place where nothing existed but music. Music and a sense of being one with it. On through the second piece, and she couldn't stop the sway of her body, the almost giddiness to the bow as it practically bounced across the strings. The third piece, by comparison, was much more melodic and the fourth always seemed sad to her, a longing for something that could never be found. Begging for something that would never be given.

The last note died away and she let her arms fall to her side and she sat in such perfect silence. She didn't move, couldn't move as she gathered herself, because she could feel the tears on her face. Not tears of joy thing time. No, these were tears because she could relate to that last piece in a way she had never been able to. Because of her love for Elliot. And these would be the only tears she shed for what could never be.