Page 39 of Unraveling Fate

“Of course,” Cadenza said, distracted. If Drostan knew, and Canon knew, Taran must know too. They all lived in the same house. “Did Drostan come too?” She tried to keep her voice casual.

“No.” Canon shook his head. “I asked him if he wanted to come, but he said he had to help Taran with something.”

“They would have been welcome at my table,” Vasilios said. “I am able to bring more guests.”

The earthsong dropped again, and Cadenza grabbed the wall, dizzy.

“You alright?” Canon reached for her.

“Two minutes, Ms. Cavalieri,” the stagehand called down the hall. She waved in acknowledgement.

“I’d better finish getting ready.”

Canon looked at her doubtfully, but Vasilios tapped him on the arm. “Of course. We’ll take our seats. I’m looking forward to finally hearing the voice Canon has raved so much about.”

Cadenza retreated to the dressing room. Canon had come to hear her sing.

Canon had come.

Taran had not.

She ran a lint roller over her dress. Fixed a pin in her hair. Told herself the tightness in her stomach had nothing to do with disappointment. She had no right to be disappointed.

I mean, really, what happened last night?They’d eaten fudge. Talked. Laughed. Taran had walked her home. He hadn’t kissed her goodnight.

You read too much into it, Cadenza. You always misread people. And you didn’t even invite him, so you can’t expect him to be here.

At least no more static buzzed in her ears. She rolled her shoulders back and marched down the corridor to spy out the audience from backstage.

Dinner at the Learmonth Country Club was a formal, four-fork event. Thomas consulted with the chef—imported from Milano—about each day’s menu, and the dress code gave the club’s wealthy members ample opportunity to flash their designer formal wear. Waitstaff moved through the room, serving the first course while candles on each table echoed the glow of the chandeliers. Cadenza spotted Canon and Vasilios at a table near the front before the stage manager ushered her on stage.

A spotlight splashed a puddle of gold around her, and she couldn’t help thinking of the gold of Taran’s eyes. Had she really read last night so wrong?

The band started into the first set. Time to sing.

Leaving behind the vibrato of opera in favor of the mellow jazz stylings she’d worked on with Thomas, Cadenza flowed through the first song. The earthsong answered her. Tendrils of melody rose up through the floor and played with the bass and piano already on stage with her. She let it rise but kept the leash short. The diners dropped their salad forks to clap after the first song.

Canon clapped the loudest.

What if Taran were the one clapping instead?

The band plunged into the second number. The earthsong rose to her knees, wrapped its end-of-summer bass guitar notes around her hips.

Focus. Control.She clenched her fists and belted out the second verse.

Vasilios leaned over to make a comment to Canon and Canon nodded, a smug smile playing over his face. Cadenza allowed herself the luxury of anotherwhat if, imagining Taran’s relaxed grace replacing Canon’s politician veneer at the table. His drums rolling through the room. A dangerous daydream pounded through her head. Taran, not at the front table at Learmonth Country Club, but in the front row of Teatro la Fenice. Clapping the loudest, for her.

The music jumped from her hips to her throat. It clutched at her diaphragm, strummed at her vocal cords.

She pushed back, hard, but the band swelled in a crescendo and the earthsong clung to her. Human-made music, earth-made music, and her control over them both crashed into each other.

Electricity buzzed and zapped along the ceiling. The chandeliers exploded, glass raining onto the tables and dinner guests. The stage monitors blew out in a screech of feedback and Cadenza’s microphone cut out.

But the earthsong didn’t release her voice.

The diners’ screams quieted. Every eye turned to the stage. Cadenza’s voice rolled through the space like an energy blast.

No!She fought for control, dragging the song back note for note like hauling in an overloaded net from the sea. The music’s hold on her voice broke, and she staggered backwards, gasping.