“Would you perform for us, Lannahi?” Nefari asked when she stopped a few steps away.
For Lannahi, adopting a new role was like putting on armor and getting ready for battle. The task was so engrossing that when she saw in Nefari’s eyes compassion instead of cold calculation, she was momentarily flustered, but the icy lump of anger in her chest was greater than her surprise.
“I did not expect to perform today, and I am worried that my performance may not be worthy of my royal audience,” Lannahi said, “but if the monarchs gathered here do not mind taking a moment to listen to an amateur, I will take the opportunity to gain a new experience.”
Although she didn’t raise her voice, her words echoed over the arena. She was surprised by how confident she sounded but also felt relieved. The years spent at her father’s court had taught her something after all.
There was something akin to hope in Nefari’s gaze, but soon the woman turned to face the audience, and Lannahi wasn’t sure if she had been mistaken.
“Lannahi is modest,” Nefari said like she was sharing a secret, “but she has been performing at her father’s royal court for five years. I think it’s worth giving her a chance. Wouldn’t you agree?” When murmurs of approval rang out from the stands, Nefari made a theatrical gesture and indicated the harp standing nearby.
Lannahi moved toward the instrument wordlessly, feeling the anger in her chest melt and turn into a thick liquid of fear. She’d been so focused on her presence that she hadn’t thought about what she would sing. She frantically tried to recall the songs she’d practiced recently, but her mind was blank.
She reached the harp all too soon and discovered that she was alone in the center of the arena. Her stomach squeezed tightly. What was she doing here?
When she ran her fingers over the strings hesitantly, a deafening silence fell over the stands. She tried to focus on the music but the only thoughts swirling madly in her head was that the most powerful fae in the world were watching and waiting.
She immediately caught the first murmurs of impatience. She felt her cheeks burn. Her carefully donned armor was cracking.
And then she heard a familiar sound. Her fingers found what her mind could not.Song of Elements. The piece was popular to the point of being a cliché, but Lannahi clung to it like a drowning man clung to a branch.
Soon, music wasn’t only a deliverance from the stressful situation, but the purpose of her life. At that moment, nothing else mattered.
Since fae were taught to hide their feelings from an early age, artistic performances weren’t just for entertainment. Public displays of true emotions were so rare that the sight of an artist indulging in them on the stage aroused genuine fascination. In everyday life, emotional behavior was disdained, but in the context of art, “emotionality” was the highest compliment. Lannahi often heard that her performances were emotional. It was widely believed to be a sign of talent, but there were those like Letiri who knew that Lannahi wasn’t faking and saw it as her weakness. It would be so easy to defeat her. Breaking her fingers or cutting out her tongue would be enough to blow out her will like a candle. Only singing made her feel like herself—who would she be if it was taken away from her? Only an empty shell…
Even though she knew she was openly displaying her greatest weakness to those who would seek it out, when Lannahi sang, it didn’t matter where she was or who was watching. All that mattered was the song and the emotions it evoked.
She was still ice, a meandering river, and a cloud shedding rain.
She was smoke from a bonfire, light casting shadows, and fire bringing destruction.
She was a pleasant breeze, a cold gale, and a thunderous storm.
She was a reliable rock, a dark abyss, and boiling lava…
When the words that her lips sang faded away and her fingers stilled, Lannahi felt as if she was waking up from a dream. Awareness of her surrounding flowed back to her slowly.
Harp. Arena. Audience.
Silence.
Driven by reflex learned over the years rather than a conscious decision, Lannahi stood up, took a few steps, and, regretting that she didn’t wear a flared dress like Nefari’s red gown, bowed from the waist like a man.
She subconsciously expected applause but none followed. Given that her predecessors performed original pieces and not songs whose lyrics were several hundred years old, this shouldn’t have been a surprise, but deep down, she still felt disappointed. She stifled the urge to look in the direction of her family. It would be in poor taste if they were the first to express appreciation for an artist who came from their own court…
With a stab of longing, she let go of the memory of the pleasure she felt while singing and summoned pride in its place. The show wasn’t over yet.
She straightened, preparing for the long march back to her seat. The sound of clapping that came from her left surprised her and instead of feigning indifference, her head snapped toward the sound. She recalled that mainly landshapers sat there…
Then, it no longer mattered who started applauding first.
Applause thundered from everywhere.
***
Lannahi smiled involuntarily when she heard the accolade for her performance. Be that as it may, art wasn’t complete without an audience.
Halit and Nefari returned to the arena. The latter approached Lannahi and took her arm. Lannahi stiffened slightly and the singer sensed this, but neither of them stopped smiling.
