I’m supposed to be living right now. Not…not…not being treated like an invalid.
They’re just worried about me.
The thought diffused some of her anger. What if working in the garden yesterday had triggered her attack? Maybe it had just been time; she’d certainly felt overdue for an episode after a week of feeling so good. If Merrick had used magic to suppress her symptoms, maybe it had simply…worn off.
Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and released it slowly.
It’s still my choice. I don’t want to worry them, but they need to respect that.
Adalynn opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling.
“I’ll just have to find something else to do, then,” she muttered. She swung her gaze around the kitchen. “Like clean this already spotless house.”
She washed the few dirty dishes in the sink and wiped down the dustless counters before stopping herself. It was pointless, and she was bored. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Merrick used magic to keep the house clean.
I could march back out there and tell them I’m helping and that’s that.
She could, but Merrick had been serious about his threat. It would only end up with her more bored, restless, and angry.
With nothing else to do, Adalynn took a long, hot bath, and read her favorite romance book—which also happened to be the only one currently in her possession—while she soaked.
The heat and steam soothed her, and reading allowed her some semblance of an escape from her frustration, her sickness, and this broken world—but not from her desire. She couldn’t help but think about Merrick when she came to the first sex scene. Soon, all she could focus on was the memory of his hands on her skin, of the feel of his lips against hers, of his masculine scent.
The book quickly lost its appeal; she tossed it onto the floor near her bag, closed her eyes, and slipped her hand between her thighs.
Her self-induced orgasm came swiftly, but it left her feeling unsatisfied, hollow, and lonelier than before.
After her bath, Adalynn dressed and brushed her hair, leaving it hanging freely around her shoulders. She slipped her book into her bag, which she returned to her room before wandering around the house again. She took her time examining the rooms and the objects within them, moving pictures and tugging on light fixtures to see if there were any hidden compartments or secret passages. Why wouldn’t there be? This was a big, old house; it was bound to have as many secrets as its owner, wasn’t it?
Her search turned up nothing exciting, but at least it had distracted her currently overactive imagination for a little while. She forced herself to press onward.
She paused when she reached the entrance of the ballroom; the double doors were closed today. She flung them open and stepped through. As usual, all the curtains were closed, blanketing the large chamber in thick gloom.
Time to change that.
Shutting the doors behind her, she strode across the dancefloor and went from window to window, drawing the curtains wide. With each window, more sunlight streamed inside; soon the whole ballroom was gleaming with it. Rays of sunshine struck the chandeliers’ crystals, casting countless tiny, colorful points of reflected light on the polished wood of the floor, walls, and ceiling.
Adalynn hummed softly as she moved about the room, sometimes walking, sometimes dancing.
I should teach Danny to dance.
Even if it was the end of the world, even if it wasn’t a practical skill, there was no reason not to teach him; people still needed to enjoy themselves from time to time. People still needed small, brief means of escape from the stresses of this new world.
When she reached the stage, she climbed up and sat on the piano bench. The fallboard was upright. She skimmed her fingertips over the keys, too lightly to produce any sound, and found herself overcome with an indefinable sense of sadness.
No, no sadness. I’m living, right?
She pressed down on a few keys.
The notes were strong, resonant, and in tune.
“What?”
Startled, Adalynn moved her other hand up to the keys and played a few bars of River Flows in You. Though her fingers felt stiff and a bit clumsy after so long, the music flowed from her, the notes crisp and perfect.
Merrick. He’d done this. For her?
She brimmed with excitement, and joyful tears welled in her eyes. She clasped her hands together and lifted them to her chest, which was tight with overwhelming emotions. It’d been months since she last played, and she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it, hadn’t realized how big a hole its absence had left inside her, until this moment. Music—especially piano—had been the core of her life since that first time her father played her Moonlight Sonata.
To have it back now, while she still had some time…
It was incredible beyond words.
Unable to bear the silence any longer, Adalynn separated her hands, stretched her fingers, settled them on the keys, and played—starting with River Flows in You and shifting into Moonlight Sonata. She moved right into another song when it was done, and then another and another, smiling as the music filled the room. It didn’t matter if her fingers ached; they needed this as much as she did.
The sun roamed across the sky as she played, shifting the position of the rainbow, refracted lights cast by the chandeliers’ crystals.
She paused, fingers hovering over the keys, after she finished Elton John’s Your Song. She’d heard the lyrics in her head as she’d played, and it had turned her mind toward a different song—one she’d never played before but which she knew all the same. She’d never heard it; it was a song she’d felt inside her heart ever since she’d come to this house. And it was always at its clearest when she was near Merrick.
Closing her eyes, Adalynn set her fingers back down and let instinct take over. The melody came as naturally to her as breathing. Her fingers danced over the keys as the haunting, yet beautiful song took form, swirling around her like a physical presence.
* * *
Merrick and Danny carried their harvest—two baskets laden with produce—into the kitchen through the back door and deposited it on the floor along the wall. Between today and yesterday, they’d picked far too much for the three of them to eat before it started spoiling, but Merrick would use it as an opportunity to teach Adalynn and Daniel the canning process. Summer was speeding toward its end; now was the time to bolster their long-term stores in preparation for winter.
“Think Addy’s still mad at us?” Danny asked, brushing his hands together to dislodge some of the dirt that had caked upon them.
Merrick frowned at the flecks of dirt falling to the floor in front of the boy, but the mess was less troubling than the way he and Daniel had treated Adalynn earlier. She’d only wanted to contribute, but Merrick and Danny had sent her away without listening to her protests, united in their concern for her health.
As Adalynn—making no effort to mask her anger—had stormed into the house, Merrick had recalled their conversation from last night. His worry did not grant him the right to dictate her actions, and no matter how deeply he felt that she was his, she was not bound to his will. Only Adalynn knew her limits.
But Merrick couldn’t shake his memories of her latest episode, and that had hardened his resolve. He could not dismiss the possibility that it had been her overexerting herself—rather than a failing of his magic—that had brought on the resurgence. Even if that didn’t ring true in his heart, any chance of it was one too many.