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Chapter Ten
Ididn't know what I wanted. Should I go to Leo? Should I not? I'd been so resolute before Vincent's visit and now I was questioning everything. My stepmother's anger could be felt throughout the house and she'd even threatened to go as far as revealing my bad behaviour to deprive me of my trust fund. I didn't know if that would work, but I didn't know any lawyers to be able to find out for sure and I didn't want to risk it. Not when I still needed to plan for a future for myself.
My phone buzzed but I ignored it. I already knew what the message would say. Enrique had been too excited when I'd told him about Vincent's offer. It would just be another message urging me to go to the palace.
And I would cave. I knew that already. I didn't need to hear the reasons I should go, I was well aware of them myself. What I needed was someone to tell me why I shouldn't. Mostly that I still had no idea who Leo was, other than someone very persistent. In his shoes, I'd have given up by now.
That wasn't true. I probably wouldn't have. I didn't like being the one who was left. Not at all.
Not wanting to face the decision, I made my way through the house to the music room. There was still one place I could find my answers. Or forget about the need for them.
I closed my eyes as I stepped into the room. I couldn't describe the smell in here, but it was always the same. It sounded corny, even in my own head, but it smelled like music to me. Beautiful, peaceful, joyful music.
My cello sat, propped against my stool but still in its case. I would never disrespect the wood by leaving it out to the open air. Even somewhere as safe as this room, I didn't trust the atmosphere. And my cello being damaged would be something that reduced me to tears. Dad had given me the instrument for my twelfth birthday. It had been too big for me then, but he'd patted me on the shoulder and told me I'd grow into it.
How right he'd been.
I laid down the case and unzipped it. Smoothing my hands over the polished wood, I marvelled once more at the intricate inlays the instrument had. I didn't understand how it could make such haunting music, but I respected that it did.
I lifted it out and propped it against the stand before leaning back into the case to withdraw my bow. I checked each of the horsehair strings, knowing that playing my cello while they were damaged would do more harm than good. Nor would it sound pleasant on the ears and that would defeat the point of me being here.
I sat on the stool and pulled the instrument to me, resting it between my legs and closing my eyes. The feel of it there was comforting, like everything I needed was in one place all at once.
My eyes staying closed, I placed the bow against the strings and warmed myself and the instrument up by playing several scales. I knew a lot of musicians stopped doing this once they reached my level, but I wasn't one of them. It did me no good if I could play complicated music but forgot the basics. Everything was built on these sounds. On these movements.
I wasn't about to forsake my passion because of my own arrogance.
Once the sound was what I wanted it to be, I launched into a song I knew by heart. Or one of them. I'd played almost every day since I turned eighteen. Before that, I'd played as often as I could. This had been something Dad encouraged me to do and after his death I used it to feel close to him. Even if it wasn't a passion we shared.
The sound filled the room, the acoustics of which were perfect. As far as I knew, my Grandad had fitted out the room, so it could rival even the biggest symphony halls. My Grandma had been an avid musician and it had been his way of supporting her. The love that showed still astounded me to this day.
The final notes of my song rang through my head and it was only then I realised I was crying. I wasn't sure if it was the song or the direction of my thoughts that had the emotions leaking out of my eyes and I didn't examine the thought further. Instead, I launched into a more upbeat song. An Irish jig I'd learned on a dare. Enrique had said I wouldn't be able to play the tune on my cello and it was only suited to a violin. I'd proved him wrong within a week.
My thoughts raced as I played. I still wasn't sure if I'd go to the palace. A part of me yearned to, but another part was worried that would see the end of my passion. My first love had been music, I doubted that would ever change. I don't think I could bear it if someone tried to stop me from playing.
The memory of Leo's face as I'd played the piano for him came to mind unbidden. His rapt attention and blissful features taunting me more. How could I ignore that reaction to the music? People didn't look like that if they saw it as nothing more than a silly hobby. That was someone who appreciated music. Maybe even played it.
My eyes snapped open. How hadn't I noticed it before? Leo wasn't someone who'd stop me from following my passion. He was someone who'd share it. Encourage it. We could be like my grandparents had been, sharing in one another's passions and making them stronger not tearing them apart.
I packed away my cello as quickly as I could, being careful not to damage the wood. I almost put the case away too but thought better of it. If I was going to lay my heart on the line, then I wanted to do it with my instrument in my hand. Then Leo would know what it meant too. I didn't know how I was so sure he'd understand but I didn't question it. I had more important things to do, like get to the palace. Especially as there was a distinct possibility I was now going to be late. Having him think I wasn't going to show up definitely wouldn't be a good way to start something between us.
