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Holding my hand, Ris guides me and Ezra to the street, coming to the front of Le Lazurt. Drunk theater goers are stumbling around the place. There’s a heavy aroma of alcohol and petrichor as we walk out to the cobblestone road.
Ris hands me a napkin to clean myself up, wiping away the blood from my mouth as he hails a carriage. It comes to a stop. The driver hops down to open the door for us.
“Heard you had an excellent performance tonight,” he remarks.
“Night of my life,” says an unenthusiastic Ris, gesturing for Ezra and I to climb in first.
“Marvelous. I hope to catch a concert of yours soon.”
He follows us in before the driver shuts the door. The loud noises of the streets suddenly become muffled, granting me a moment’s peace. I look outside, seeing a poster advertising Ris’ concert.
I almost find it funny, thinking of how nervous I was when Ris pitched coming to his show. Not in a million years could I ever have predicted this happening. I look across at him as the carriage kicks into motion.
Ris casts a downward gaze full of somber. His face was no more full of life than a stone. Squeezing Ezra’s hand, I motion for him to sit on his father’s side.
I watch as he hops from one seat to the other. Ris subtly smiles at him but keeps his gaze at the ground. It’s then that I choose to join Ris myself, taking his hand in mine as the carriage continues on, swaying from side to side as we make the journey home.
26
RIS
Idon’t trust myself to speak. I’m not even sure I can. The ride back to the penthouse goes by in a blur, and I have to keep reminding myself not to clench my fists with Ezra sitting in my lap. I force my hands open, force myself to breathe, and place a lingering kiss on my son’s forehead.
The son I almost never got the chance to know.
The gentle swaying of the carriage on the cobblestoned street has lulled him to sleep, and he’s drooling peacefully on my shoulder. I let him.
“Ris…”
I can’t. Not now. I pull Sienna against my side and give her hand a squeeze.
She squeezes back, but she looks worried, and that only serves to piss me off even more. If I could go back to the theatre and fire Rho again, I would. She’d better hope I never see her face again for a long time, or—
The carriage stops outside of the penthouse, and the driver opens the door for us. He helps Sienna out first and I follow behind with my son still tucked against my shoulder. He’s grown already. He’s grown so much in just a short time.
I’ve missed so much. His first steps, first word.
Sienna sang him his first lullaby, patched up his first skinned knee. He’s grown up nearly two years without a father, and she’s had to do everything on her own.
None of it had to be this way.
I’m pacing ahead of her, but I can’t slow down. My blood is boiling. It feels like if I stop moving I’ll self-immolate. Sienna’s steps quicken behind me, fast enough that she reaches the door shortly after I do.
“I’ll take him up to bed,” she says.
She moves to carry him, but I do it for her, setting him on the bed. Sometimes I find myself just gazing down at him while he sleeps, but I don’t linger. I can’t. Looking down at his sleeping face that’s so like mine, at the sloping curve of his cheek that’s so like her… Rage nearly chokes me. My feet carry me down to the kitchen where I pace.
I think I’ve worked it all out.
How Sienna disappeared so suddenly. Why she left without a word or a trace.
Why my own sister didn’t care.
Rhovier scared her off. Rhovier, who I went to in tears, worried to death that Sienna had been hurt or killed or sold or–
She’dknown.
“You’re too attached!” she’d laughed.She’d laughed. “Honestly, we’ll find someone else who tunes instruments just as well, if not better. Show me tomorrow’s setlist.”
