“Nervous?”
I quirk a brow. “Not particularly.” It’s the same set I always play. There’s no reason to be nervous. At least, there shouldn’t be.
“Well, I wanted to tell you before…” He clears his throat. “I wanted to say what a rare honor it has been to know you, Miss Eloise.”
I frown, still not understanding. “Thank you, Forest. That’s…”Nice? Strange?“That’s very kind of you to say.”
Forest leans closer, his good eye shining with an emotion I can’t place. “And also… I’m sorry I didn’t—that I couldn’t…” He shakes his head, clearly unable to say what he wishes. “I wish I could have done more. For you.”
He doesn't need to say what. He’s seen some of the torment Dave has put me through—enough to know what’s going on in this house isn’t right. I think back to his small gestures of kindness over the past months, and how he’s tried to bring some light to days filled with darkness and cruelty. He didn’t have to do that—he could have looked the other way like everyone else. He could have made everything worse, and instead, he chose to help me.
A wave of emotion overtakes me, and I rush forward, wrapping my arms around Forest’s middle in a massive bear hug. Forest tenses, but after a few moments, he relaxes into the embrace and hugs me back.
At the sensation, tears come to my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I experienced platonic love or care, but I think this is as close to it as I’ve come since my parents died.
After a few moments, Forest pulls away, reaching up to pat the top of my head. “Now, don’t mess up your makeup because of me. You’ll be late for your show.” He nods to the note still clutched in my hand. “And youreallydon’t want to be late for this one.”
“Why?”
But Forest has already turned and gone from the room by the time the word is out of my mouth. With nothing else to do, I look at the note in my palm. Steeling my nerves, I peel apart the folds, smoothing the crinkled paper with trembling fingertips. I know what I’m going to find, yet it shocks me to my core all the same.
It’s a song. And not just any song—but one written by Riot.
I think back to our conversation on the beach. How he hadn’t written anything in years, blocked by his grief and lack of inspiration. And now, he’s written a song. For me. Because of me.
I turn the page over, and my heart stutters as I take in the words scrawled in thick black ink at the bottom. Five little, messy words, but they’re enough to make my dead heart sing.
See you soon, little muse.
33
Riot
I sitin the front row of the massive auditorium, staring at the wings hard enough to burst a blood vessel. The droning of the crowd rises, helping to cover the frantic thudding of my heart. I would be thankful for the distraction if I weren’t so anxious, but Eloise is about to step onto the stage, and the knowledge has reduced me to a ball of nerves and worry.
According to the pamphlets, Eloise will be playing songs from the major composers across the centuries, and it’s drawn quite a crowd. The Neon Valley Concert Hall is packed—completely sold out, with people flying in from all over the country to watch this exclusive event.
Growing impatient, my grip tightens around my phone. I look down at my screen for the thousandth time tonight, rereading the text I received an hour ago.
Forest:She has the note.
I suck in a deep breath, shoving the phone deep into my pocket.She has it. She’ll know I’m here. She’ll know what to do.
Three days ago, Enzo and I reached out to the surly bodyguard with a proposition to help us save Eloise. I was skeptical about him at first, but as soon as we talked, everything changed. Turns out, Forest has noticed Dave’s abuse in the fewmonths he’s been employed, and he even tried to go to the police, only to be turned away. No matter who he talked to, he got the same response—he should leave the Eloise situation well enough alone.
He stayed in Dave’s employment, knowing the monster he was but hoping his presence would lessen the abuse. And if it didn’t, he could at least compile evidence if someone ever listened to her story. If someone ever wanted to help.
So as soon as I mentioned my desire to free Eloise from her conservatorship, Forest jumped right in, offering all the pictures and video recordings he’d taken during his employment. Based on what I’ve glimpsed, it should be more than enough to prove Dave’s abuse and to sway the courts in her favor.
All the pieces are falling into place, and there’s just one left. It’s up to Eloise, now. And as long as it’s whatshewants, tonight is the night she will be free.
The hum of the crowd lowers to a hush, and I sit up straighter in my seat, holding my breath as I scour the wings.Eloise…
She walks out a moment later, dressed in a flowing golden gown that pools like liquid mercury around her heeled feet. She looks beautiful.She looks like an angel.
Eloise makes a beeline for the piano, her face downcast, unable to muster a smile for the roaring crowd. She takes her seat at the bench, adjusting her hips slightly before raising her hands to the keys. Like all the times before, Eloise gives her acknowledgement to the orchestra, then turns to the conductor, dipping her chin in a slight nod to let her know she’s ready.
The opening chords of “Mariage d’Amour” ring out, and the concert hall falls into a reverent hush. The song is supposed to be reminiscent of spring—bright and lighthearted—but Eloise looks so sad as her fingers dance along the keys.
