‘Haven’t you done enough damage?Caused enough pain?’
‘Five minutes.Just five.Please.’
‘You had your chance.’
‘Listen, you—’ Cassius forced a step over the threshold.‘I know you’re doing what you were told, but this is important—’
Daniel braced against the door and pushed back, both of them struggling, their hands flailing, their feet scuffing the floor.
‘Daniel.Let Zadora go.’
Daniel lowered his hands but held his ground.‘He took the letter before I could give it to Mr von Miller.’
Cassius rested his hands on his knees, gulping air.‘You can’t!’He raised a hand, then bent over again, breathless.‘You need to… you…’
Odette nudged Daniel out of the way to take his place in the doorway.She leant against the frame, too tired to even hold herself upright.‘Give my letter to Karl.Please.He needs to know so he can plan for my absence and inform the cast.’And she gripped the wood, trying to wrench back her heart from him.
Of course, she failed.
Fine.He could have it.She withdrew to push the door closed.
‘I’m sorry!’Cassius shouted.Odette paused, just before the doorjamb reached the lock.‘I should not have said what I did.You have always been proud, but never uncaring, and never—’
‘You were right.’She opened the gap a little wider.‘I have not been here for my friends when they needed me.I have not been useful when I should have been.It is well past time I abandoned the stage.Itisjust singing.Theyarejust little songs that people hum to amuse themselves.There is so much more to worry about in this world.So much heartache.So much pain.I do nothing but add more noise to an already noisy world.’
‘You don’t believe that.You can’t.’Cassius drew himself up to his full height, his breath settling.He moved slowly but with purpose, resting his hand against the door and nudging it wide enough to step inside.‘Songs are beautiful.They move people deep inside.They connect us to those before us who wrote them, who we will never know, and they become our gifts to hand down to the ones who will outlast us.They give us permission to break and pull ourselves back together.They give us space to revel in the light parts of our souls, and to stumble through the dark.The music, the melody, the words… they are the difference between living and being alive.’
‘Cassius, don’t.Don’t remind me.Don’t taunt me—’
‘You are allowed to be sad about this.’He enveloped her in his arms.‘You don’t always have to be perfect.You are allowed to justbe.’He stroked her hair and the back of her neck as he held her tight, and with a shudder, she let herself collapse against him and wept.
She wept for the life she had loved, for the music, for her friend who was gone, for Iris, for everyone.For all the pain and grief that had swept over her this spring, for all the uncertainty and all the memories she would never make.For Babcia.And, selfishly, for herself.
‘Who am I,’ she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.‘Who am I, if I am not Miss Delaney?’
Cassius ran his thumb along her jaw.‘You have always been more than Miss Delaney.You have always been a friend.A perfectionist.An aggravation to conductors and theatre managers everywhere.And an exceptional performer.’He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the letter.Her bright blue wax seal shimmered, still a complete, unbroken circle.‘You do not end with a whimper.You will end as you began.As a perfect, shining star.Tomorrow night, come to the theatre.’
‘I cannot.I will not risk it.I would rather be nothing than be imperfect.’
‘Have I ever let you fail?Have I ever led an orchestra that did not make you soar?’
Odette shook her head against the misgivings in her heart.
‘Come to the theatre tomorrow night, for opening night.One last performance.I will make sure you are perfect.You will say goodbye on your own terms.You will never forgive yourself if you don’t.’
Odette pressed her ear to his chest, and the steady drumbeat of his heart pulsed against her cheek.
‘I cannot go with you to Vienna,’ she said.‘A better woman would, but I cannot.Living in the city of music and watching from the edges… I would come to hate you.Here, I won’t.’
‘And I would not wish such a life on you.’Cassius smoothed his hand down her back.He held her not like a lover, not even like a friend.He held her like she completed him.Or perhaps, that was what she felt herself, for there would be no one else after he left.No other lover she could feign interest in, no other man who could compare to him.Her friend, her foil, her colleague, and her dearest, deepest love would forever be Cassius.
‘Will you play for me?One last time before you go?Please,’ she added.
Not even this stung her any longer—allowing herself to almost beg.
He knew the way to the piano, and she trailed after him.She called for supper and tea, then slipped off her boots and curled into a wing-backed chair.Cassius asked for a blanket, and when Nora brought it, he tucked it around the pockets between her body and the cushions.Then he settled on the piano bench.
Songs from other worlds, songs they loved, songs they had performed together… he played until his fingers must have ached, but she could not ask him to stop.He played so beautifully.She had never heard the stiffness he claimed had transformed his career, had only ever heard the passionate love of music that she shared.When she yawned and her eyes grew heavy, he finished the final refrain, then gently closed the fallboard.He scooped her into his arms and carried her to her chambers, pressed close to his chest.With too much familiarity, he assisted her with her ribbons and laces until she wore nothing but her chemise and helped her climb into bed, drowsy and sleep addled.When he pulled the covers over her, she caught his hand.
