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She adjusts him onto her hip with ease, never taking an eye off the older children. A child-wrangling professional, even with her hands full, even as the wailing toddler in question wraps his chubby little hand into her reddish-blonde hair and tugs.
“Beat you!”
The older children skid to a stop outside Sienna’s shop door. An elf strolls behind them, using magic to fire up the streetlights. In their orange glow, I can see that the children are half human, half elf.
Someone had a happier end to their love story than I did.
For a long, self-pitying moment after I watch the children step inside, I let myself admit how much I wanted a child with her. A life with her. What would it be like to have her backstage with our child after a show?
We could teach them how to play the jinrayaha and the lyra together. Sing while we do mundane chores around the house. Watch them grow and have children of their own.
An entire lifetime I’ll never have flashes before my eyes. It would be beautiful, all of it, down to the last moment.
With one glaring exception—Sienna doesn’t want it.
All I’ve ever wanted is for her to be happy. I should be glad that I finally know how. It’s simple enough, really.
All I need to do is walk away.
17
SIENNA
Iknew he’d come back. Maybe that’s why I managed to send him away. Every part of me had been so desperate to fling myself into his arms, but then what?
Nothing’s changed.
Well. One thing’s changed.
His son.
I’ve struggled every day about telling him. He has a right to know his son, and Ezra…watching him grow up without a father is tearing my heart in two. But what would Ris’ sister do if she knew?
What wouldRis?
It’s been two years. He could be married with children of his own for all I know. Full-blooded chivdouyu children who will follow in his artistic footsteps one day. I can’t help but remember how he kept me a secret. I can’t allow him to do that to our son.
And Rhovier won’t get a chance to touch one hair on his head if I can help it. Guilt is a small price to pay for Ezra’s safety.
The bells above the door chime, breaking my thoughts.
“Good afternoon, gentle shop lady. Would you happen to have any ilya strings you recommend?”
I know it’s him before I turn around, but my heart still skips a beat when I see him. He’s leaning against a display table carelessly, shooting me an easy grin.
A far cry from the other night.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re right. It’s absurd, a musician in a music shop.”
I’m not going to laugh, damn it. “I said I wanted space.”
“I knew I should have worn earplugs onstage all these years.” He stops grinning, turning serious so quickly it makes me dizzy. “I’ll leave if you wish. I truly just want to look at the instruments. Ghildumal’s finalizing the order today, and I’m torn between the e’ltte wood for the rohm or the tiphe.”
“You are not.” He knows full well tiphe wood produces the best resonance, he’s just here to…
“Oh, so you’ve learned to read minds during your time here?” He waggles his eyebrows. “I believe it. Miothro must have read mine at least ten times while I was in his office just now. Tell me, does that man ever smile, or is his face always like a statue’s?”
