And snap.
She felt the epiphany.
Of course that was how you played the lute. Of course.
Snatching it up, she plucked through the strings, adjusted the frets, and then began to play. She got it. She knew how to play it perfectly well, and the knowledge came easily to her.
She didn’t know any of the songs that he must have known all that long ago. Instead, she played her own music, adapting her songs to the fifteen-stringed lute as she went, humming with happiness that she had an instrument, any instrument to play again, adding riffs, two-plucking with style.
The shadowed music hall turned luminous with harmonic sound. It ran through her like fiery gold, and it didn’t matter what was going on around her or what might come in the future. Everything was right with the world. Everything was more than right….
She lost track of time, and that didn’t matter either until, a formless while later, the epiphany ran out of her, like a tide pulling away from the shore.
Her fingers stumbled on the strings. Tiredness swallowed her whole. Unsteadily, she muttered, “Oh, wow. That was just amazing. If you could bottle that, you’d have addicts waiting in line down the street.”
“That was a combination of my spell and your talent.” His whisper sounded rough with exhaustion. “Those addicts would never be able to play like you just did.”
“But how are you going to get the spell to me?” She chewed her lip as she worried over the problem. “I don’t think I’m overdramatizing when I say my life depends on this.”
“I swear I will figure it out. Somehow I will get it to you.” The iron determination in his voice soothed her anxiety. “Sidonie, it was a hell of a day before I got to you, and I can’t be found here. I need to leave before I crash.”
“Of course,” she said, swaying where she sat on the footstool. “Same here. I’m wiped out.”
His hand came down heavily onto her shoulder as he stood. He dug into the pack he had left by the table and pressed something into her hands. “Here, eat this before you sleep, or you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
Her fingers were throbbing. She hadn’t been lying when she had said she’d lost the conditioning in her hands, and she didn’t have calluses built up from playing the lute.
She made her stiff, aching hands curl around what he had given her. “Okay, thank you.”
Before she managed to finish the three-word sentence, a fresh current of air circulated the large room and she knew he was gone.
Forcing herself to stay upright through an act of willpower, she sniffed what he had given her. It was a pie of some sort. As she bit into it, the sweet, tart taste of cherries filled her mouth, balanced by the sugary goodness of the crust. It was delicious.
Suddenly aware that she had not eaten since the night before, she didn’t stop eating until she had finished the whole thing.
Then, feeling a bit steadier, she tapped her fingers on the table while she thought. How could she possibly explain how she came to have earrings, if she were asked?
Carefully removing them, she slipped them into the pocket of her ugly brown dress as she whispered, “Sometimes I wear my earrings, and sometimes I carry them in my pocket.”
Would that be true enough to pass Kallah’s truthsense? How the hell should she know, when she’d never felt truthsense in her life.
She took the earrings out and put them on the table. Now they’re not in my pocket.
Then she put them back in her pocket. Now they are.
In my pocket. Out. In. Out again.
Could she have finally found a use for her OCD tendencies?
Fixing the earrings in her ears, she told herself, “Now I’m wearing them. Because sometimes I wear my earrings, and sometimes I carry them in my pocket.”
That had to be enough. She was too tired to do anything more. Staggering over to the couch, she curled up at one end. Cast adrift, her mind wandered toward sleep.
Magic Man’s lips had been firm, warm, and hungry. Thinking of how he had kissed her made her tired body pulse with remembered heat. His skin had been hot, and the muscles in his arms taut with tension. His hair had felt thick, clean, and silken when she had run her fingers through it.
And his ears had been round, not pointed.
Opening her eyes, she stared up at the shadowed ceiling as she realized.
Magic Man wasn’t Light Fae.
“What are you doing?!”
Kallah’s sharp voice penetrated the thick blanket of sleep that wrapped around Sid. Struggling to sit up, she blinked at the bright morning light streaming through the tall windows. She felt headachy and dull, as if she were hungover.
The Light Fae woman stood stiff with outrage over her reclining figure. Kallah was dressed impeccably in a simple, well-cut, rose-colored gown, her blond hair pinned at the nape of her neck.
Closing one eye, Sid squinted up at Kallah. “Did I misunderstand something? I practiced last night until I was too tired to go back to the servants’ quarters,” she said in a rusty voice. “You did say I could be either here or there, right?”
Her stiff posture unbending somewhat, Kallah frowned at her. “Cook said you hadn’t shown up for meals, and both your dirty clothes and the pile of your hair were still in your room. You can’t simply nap in the music hall whenever you feel like it!”
Swinging her legs off the couch, Sid looked down at her sore hands. Her fingers were reddened, and there were blood blisters on the tips. She had played for a long time last night under the influence of Magic Man’s spell. She rubbed the tips of her fingers gently over the balls of her thumbs. There was just no part of this that was going to go easy, was there?
“Understood,” she sighed. “I’ll try not to practice quite so late tonight.”
“What is that?” Kallah asked abruptly. When she glanced up in inquiry, the other woman nodded at her hands. “Those red marks.”
“Those are blood blisters from practicing,” Sid told her. “They’ll pop and be painful for a while, but eventually I’ll build up calluses there.”
Kallah’s frown deepened. “I forgot that humans don’t heal as quickly as the Light Fae do. You would still play like that?”
Sid thrust to her feet and said grimly, “I’ll do everything I have to in order to play well for her majesty tomorrow evening. I’ll do anything I possibly can to keep from going back into that prison. I’ll play while my fingers bleed if I must. Have you ever been down there?”
Kallah hesitated, then replied quietly, “No.”
“Trust me, you don’t ever want to go.” Sid met her gaze. “Not ever.”
Kallah studied her for a long moment, her lips pressed tightly together. Finally she ordered, “Come with me.”
Oh, great. This day was getting off to a terrific start. What fresh hell was in store for her now?
Angling her jaw out, she followed Kallah, who led her through the castle to a place Sid had never seen before. Curiosity overcame her bad temper as she stared around a large, clean room filled with a variety of jars and pots. Different herbal scents vied for supremacy. Menthol and eucalyptus and other scents she couldn’t identify.
An older Light Fae woman stepped into the room from another doorway. “Yes, Kallah? What can I do for you?”
“Myrrah, can you heal this human’s hands? She’s damaged herself.” Kallah made a short gesture at Sid. “Show her.”
Eyebrows raised, Sid complied, holding them out for the strange woman’s inspection.
“Of course I can heal those,” Myrrah said. When she smiled at Sid, laugh lines creased at the corners of her eyes. “They’re a minor injury, but they must be irritating and painful.”
“Yes, I’ve had blisters before,” Sid replied.
Myrrah told her, “A simple spell will take care of the problem. What’s your name, love?”
“Sid,” she replied, unsure of what had startled her more—Kallah’s brusque act of kindness, or Myrrah’s friendly demeanor. Still, she didn’t give them her full name. She didn’t want to allow the Light Fae to have any more of her than they had already taken. She also couldn’t resist adding pointedly, “I can’t believe somebody finally asked what my name was, after… I’ve lost track of how many days I’ve been here.”