Page 117 of The Unseen Hour

Orion came back around behind me.

“Maybe we need some sort of code before the item will reveal itself?”

“Maybe … could it be the music? We had to read the box, and we have to play the music?” I guessed.

“The Shades have song, and he left sheet music.”

“It’s worth a try,” I agreed.

“Can you play?”

I nodded, a strand of hair falling across my cheek before he reached down and tucked it away again.

“Passably well. Actually, more than passable.” No need for feigned modesty in the Ether. “I’m really quite good. As part of his negotiations with Ambrose, Bellamy assured him that a piano and music room would be made available to me.”

Orion’s look darkened, his brows drawing down.

“Yes, your fiancé.”

“He’s not my fiancé anymore.”

Even if Bellamy tried to reignite our engagement upon my return, it was too late. I had survived the Unseen Hour, I was allying with Death, and I was sneaking through the home of a god. I would not be cowed by my brother’s negotiations or Bellamy’s desires. I didn’t agree to the engagement, and therefore I considered it null and void.

When I returned, my life would be my own. That wasn’t up for negotiation, no matter the consequences.

“I suppose I should thank my mother for all those lessons,” I grumbled as I flexed my fingers.

For the first time, I paid attention to the actual notes written on the sheet music in front of me and was surprised to find they were familiar. It was a classical song. The original had been composed centuries ago, but the song had become popular again after being featured in a theatrical production within the past few years.

The piece would be difficult. I had played it before and knew that it had been written for someone with larger hands. The spread between the notes was tricky for me, but I was determined not to miss a single one. If this really was the key, who knew what the consequences would be for messing up the song?

After another deep breath in, and slowly out, I began.

The moment I hit the first note of the sheet music, I knew I was right. My fingers flew over the keys, as drawn to the music as I was to Orion’s singing.

When I’d previously played the piece, I had created cheats and trills to bypass having to play some notes so far apart that I could not reach them easily. This time, I stretched the span of my hands wide, just managing to hit all the right notes.

As I played, something warm lit up within me. Not whatever magic the gods exuded. This was just joy.

The song reached a crescendo, and I followed the dizzying set of notes up and back down the keyboard with enthusiasm. As I neared the end of the piece, only then did the notes slow.

The melody grew clearer, simpler, and ended with a sweet refrain.

It was a piece written about the intense passion of a love affair, and then the moment of a proposal. At least that’s what we’d been told when seeing the production at the theatre. That was just the first movement, though.

There was a second section, and a third. Only the first movement had been revitalized, and the sheet music in front of me ended on the first movement as well.

When I hit the last note, I held it, letting the sound linger. Without thinking, I’d closed my eyes on the last bit, when the melody was easiest. I’d let the music and memory carry me.

I opened my eyes as I released the note and looked to see Orion’s gaze locked on me. The blue in his eyes blazed with heat. I ran my tongue along my lip, trying to find my voice again.

“Well, what do you think?”

He leaned down, one arm circling behind me and pulling me across the bench until my face was mere inches from his own.

When he spoke, his voice was rough, and breathless.

“That was beautiful, Starlight. Just like you.”