To the Stars | Throne of Glass

14

She began to sing.

Celaena lost herself in the beauty of the notes which poured out of that silver tongue; lost all track of time and space. She leaned forward in anticipation, absorbing the lilting notes. Magic, she would have said.

The bows on strings roved with a deep ferocity and passion, and the flutes trilled fluttering notes. But, aside from Rena's sweet voice, the pianoforte stood in the corner of the stage caught her attention. The pianist played with a certain grace in the fingers, running them up and down the black and white keys in such complex movements - it was a wonder how not a single note was out of place.

The music swirled around her, twirling higher and higher, and Celaena watched the spirals as they flew up and up and up, and Rena's voice peaked to an unbearably sweet crest.

Then it all came crashing down, in huge, rolling waves and a deafening crescendo of striking chords. Rena's voice grew with the music, and the soprano shattered as the music tumbled around her.

Celaena felt every beautiful note, the gentle croon pierce through her mind, shivers running up and down her spine at the mellifluous melody foaming and billowing and churning from the instruments.

When it ended with a final, soft, heart-wrenching chord and Rena's golden voice, Celaena couldn't help the tears leaking from her eyes. She clapped and clapped and clapped, and the audience cheered applauded with every bit of enthusiasm as her.

Rena curtsied with an elegant dip, and the orchestra bowed. Celaena wiped away the crystal drops sliding down her cheeks and looked at Sam. He just smiled, the first beautiful, genuine smile at her. 'Well,' he said, 'That was just something.'

Celaena sniffled and laughed in reply. She elbowed him lightly. 'If you tell anyone you saw me crying, from music or no,' she threatened, 'I'll make sure that you'll always have something to cry about. I'd keep an eye on your fingers if I were you.'

Sam grinned and stuck his tongue out. 'Okay.'

Celaena looked over his shoulder and groaned, smile morphing into a frown. Sam raised a brow. 'What?'

'There you are, Sam!' A voice cooed. 'I've been looking for you all night!'

Sam rolled his eyes at Celaena. 'I've got a dagger,' she offered. There certainly was. Two, in fact, one strapped to each thigh by strips of fabric she'd ripped from an old tunic, along with some pins (which she'd snapped in half to make them sharper) in her hair, and flat blades tucked into the sole of her moccasins. Celaena, unfortunately, didn't own any shoes other than combat boots - and the moccasins were, in her opinion, very clumpy and felt very unnatural to wear. But boots or barefoot wasn't an option when attending Arobynn's ceremonies. So, they made do for now.

Sam shook his head, and patted his sleeve. As she peered at it, she noticed a small glint. Sam had daggers tucked into his tunic sleeves. She grinned. 'I'll leave you to deal with her then. Good luck.' She winked, then walked away as quickly as possible without tripping over the ends of her dress.

When they finally returned to the Keep, the streets were already bathed in moonlight, and, to Celaena, the entrance of the Keep was a pleasing sight. Arobynn lent Celaena a hand as she hopped down from the cab's step. They strolled into the Guild, Ben and Sam already having hurried inside. Arobynn didn't break his unfaltering stride as he glanced at Celaena. 'Enjoyable?'

Celaena gave a half smile. 'Wonderful.'

Arobynn's eyes shone with something similar to assent. 'Follow me.'

He led Celaena to a hallway she'd surprisingly never been to before, and they stopped at a door marked with strange symbols. He noticed her staring and said, 'The marks of music.'

Celaena gripped the doorknob, and pushed it open tentatively. Gods. Oh, Gods.

Because, there, right in the centre, stood a pianoforte.

Holy Gods. Arobynn offered his flash-of-teeth of a smile. 'It may be useful to have one skill set which doesn't belong in the area of... killing.' As Celaena, still in a daze, walked towards the pianoforte, Arobynn added, 'Your lessons start tomorrow. At midday. You can explore a bit now. But... try not to be too loud.' His eyes shimmered with amusement. 'It's past midnight.' Then he walked out.

Celaena ran her fingers over the keys in wonder. This pianoforte matched the one from the Theatre almost exactly, with its faded blue wash and ivory white and ebony black keys. It was so grand.

Celaena took a seat on the stool by the centre of the instrument. And it was beautiful. With a finger, she jabbed a note on the left. A deep, throbbing sound filled the room. She frowned, and pressed the note which lay in the far right. A high pitched peal, not squeak, echoed through the empty room.

Three golden pedals sat in the centre of the piece under her feet. Pushing down on one, she pressed a black note. The sound swept through the room, and, unlike the latter, it was full of sorrow, unending, and it was only when Celaena released the pedal did the sound fade slowly, still lingering in the air. She ran her fingers up the notes, two by two, and a simple ascending melody warbled out of the pianoforte. Celaena hummed in reply.

She spent the rest of the night in that room, playing with the music, until dawn arose, and the birds joined her song. It was only then did her eyelids droop, and Celaena fell asleep with her cheek rested on the cold keys.

***

three facts about me:

- grade 4 piano, currently not doing lessons

- grade 1 flute, currently doing lessons

- i can't sing 😂

whabbout you guys? comment if you play an instrument,,, ooh, does anyone play the zither?