Inharmonic (The Music Maker Series Book 1) Read online

  He took her hand, threading her fingers between his own.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured against her hair.

  “Probably about as long as I have,” Nadja admitted, sheepishly.

  Pax leaned back, surprised. “If that’s true, which I doubt, you did a great job hiding it.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” she teased.

  “I would never presume.” His arm tightened around her, and she snuggled back against him. “Although a statement like that deserves some explanation. Don’t you think?”

  They sat in comfortable silence as Pax waited for her response. When it came, Nadja was surprised to discover how easily she was able to open herself to him.

  “You know about my past. I mean, where I come from.” She looked up at Pax for some kind of acknowledgement. He nodded and waited for her to proceed.

  “A life with the Wanderers . . . women are always less than. Girls are raised to be obedient and helpful, always deferring to the men around them. A woman may offer her opinion to the man who speaks for her family, but never has an official voice. Once a woman is married, her future is determined by her husband. Her past life no longer matters. She learns his trade and becomes secondary in his household. What he says is law.”

  “Is this how it was with your parents?” Pax asked.

  Nadja shook her head. “That’s how it is with everyone’s parents. Except mine.”

  Pax raised his eyebrows, so she continued. “I never knew my father. He died when I was a few months old. My mother never remarried, so the role of Speaker for my family reverted to her father. For some reason, my grandfather was happy to let my mother lead our little family, which is unheard of.

  “She’s so strong and capable, my mother. And wise. I can’t imagine her being secondary to any man. She shouldn’t have to be. I shouldn’t have to be.”

  Nadja let her words hang in the air between them.

  Pax placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face towards him. “I would never ask you to be.”

  “I know,” she said, meeting his gaze with confidence and affection. “I haven’t always, but I do now.” His lips brushed against hers again, instantly transforming her insides into quicksilver.

  When they separated, contentment filled Nadja’s heart, and she leaned her head against him. It fit neatly in the groove between his shoulder and chest, and she marveled at the rightness of it all.

  “It only took looking death in the face to get you to come around,” chuckled Pax.

  “Not quite,” Nadja replied, absently gliding her fingers over the hard bumps defining his abdomen.

  “Well, whenever it happened, I’m glad it did. I fought so hard against my feelings for you. I even began to believe I had put you out of my head for good. Then you stood up at the Heartstide Festival. In that moment, I knew I was lying to myself. When you sang, it was like you were singing only for me. Like you were pouring a part of yourself into my soul. You sparked this small flicker of hope within me that I’d been wrong. That there was a chance for us to be together.”

  Nadja’s hand stilled, and her heart clenched. Pax’s words hit her like a kick to the gut. In the halo of their passion, she’d forgotten anything existed in the world but the two of them. Now, reality came rushing back in a black tidal wave of anxiety and despair.

  Of course his feelings returned when she sang. She was Mevocali.

  “And now, to have you in my arms,” said Pax, breaking her introspection. He leaned down to kiss her once more.

  Her brain was spinning. It wasn’t real. His feelings for her had faded before that dreaded performance. She remembered the effect her song had on the audience. Of course it would have the same effect on him.

  Nadja savored the taste of his lips on hers, knowing it would be the last time. She couldn’t take advantage of him. She would not. Wasn’t this the most hideous thing about what she was? This ability to bend others to her will. To infiltrate and influence their minds.

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and a lump rose in her throat. She sobbed against his mouth, breaking their connection.

  “I can’t,” she cried, scrambling to her feet.

  Surprise and confusion washed over Pax’s face. “What can’t you?”

  “This. You and me. I can’t take advantage of you like this.” She moved away from him and began pacing the floor.

  “Take advantage of me? What are you talking about?”

  Nadja’s head pounded in time with her footfalls. “This isn’t real. Your feelings for me aren’t real.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, sounding annoyed. Then, changing his tactics, he shot her a cocky grin. “Why don’t you come back over here and I’ll show you how real they are.”

  “No, they’re not,” Nadja protested. “I did this to you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It just happened, and I don’t know how to take it back. I would if I could.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Pax struggled to his feet, teetering on his right leg. “Nadja, you’re not making any sense. Come back over here and sit down. You can tell me what’s bothering you and we can work it out together.” He reached a hand towards her.

  “No!” she shouted, jumping back and circling around to the opposite side of the fire. She couldn’t bear to be close to him now. It hurt too much.

  Pax looked as if she’d slapped him, and her tears finally broke free.

  “You don’t understand,” she sobbed. “It’s why I’m on my way to Chansey. Why I need to find my uncle. It’s why Helaine was in the hospital and why you think you have these feelings for me.” Her voice shook as she spoke in hushed tones. “I am Mevocali.”

  Pax looked as if she’d sprouted an extra head. “That’s not possible.”

  “Apparently it is,” she choked. “It was Grandmaster Kero who figured it out, and she made it clear my uncle knows something about it. Things happen when I sing. I don’t mean for them to, but they do. Just like at the Heartstide Festival.” Nadja took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes as the confession left her lips. “Yes, you felt like I was singing only for you because I was. But everyone else in that room felt the same way. Those were my emotions you were feeling, not yours.”

  “The devil they were!” Pax boomed. “I know what I feel for you, Nadja. And regardless of who you are—what you may be—that has never changed.”

  “You said yourself you’d put me behind you until that night.”

  “A fool’s fantasy,” he sputtered. “If I had been honest with myself, I would have admitted the truth. But I wanted to believe the lie because it was easier.”

  She cast him a mournful look. “I’m so sorry.” She was thankful his ankle prevented him from closing the distance between them. It took every ounce of her resolve to turn him away.

  “I don’t want your apologies,” said Pax. “I want you to give up this idiotic notion that what we have between us isn’t real.”

  There was no convincing him otherwise. Nadja realized she had to make him see her for the aberration she really was. Then an idea sprang to mind.

  “I almost killed a man,” she blurted out. Her words rang through the air, silencing Pax’s protestations.

  His lips parted as his thick eyebrows knit together. The crackling of the fire which separated them was suddenly overpowering as he considered her words.

  Finally, he sniffed. “Tell me.”

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Nadja recounted to him the night she had fled the Wanderer camp, going into detail when she described Baulo’s physical response to her. She watched his face metamorphose through looks of shock, anger, and sorrow as she told her tale. When she finished, she waited for his reaction.

  “That must have been horrible,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  No. Not pity. She could bear anything but that. Where was his disgust? His loathing?

  “Were you listening to me? I just told you I almost killed
someone.”

  “It sounds like he had it coming,” snorted Pax. “He attacked your cousin and was about to do the same thing to you. Seems to me you reacted in self-defense. Besides,” he said, limping his way around the fire towards her, “I know you, remember? You’re not a murderer.”

  Nadja sighed and dropped her head. “But I am Mevocali. Maybe that’s just as bad.”

  “That may be what you are, but that’s not who you are.” Pax stood beside her now, close enough to touch her. She felt his nearness like a thousand tiny pinpricks against her skin. He raised a hand towards her face, but she shied away from his touch.

  He dropped his hand. “You believe my feelings for you are something of your own creation. I disagree. We are at an impasse.” He studied her guarded expression for a moment, then leaned back. “And I am making you uncomfortable.”

  She made no move to deny his words.

  “Consider the matter tabled.”

  “Good.”

  He turned and hobbled his way back towards the wall.

  Nadja watched his back, and a twinge of guilt squeezed her chest. She walked over to him and helped him back to his spot, propping his leg on her pile of wet clothes.

  “Just remember,” he said. “I said tabled. Not settled. Now, I’m hungry. Where’s that beef you had?”

  Nadja doled out the rations and sat apart from him. They settled into companionable silence as they filled their bellies.

  After a while, Pax spoke. “Whatever happened to the man you almost killed?”

  The dried meat turned to wood chips in her mouth, and Nadja reached for her canteen, taking a sip before passing it back to Pax. There were so many things she had been keeping from him. But, now that he knew the worst, there was no reason to lie to him anymore.

  “It’s a long story,” she said.

  Pax gestured to his ankle and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Nadja told him everything from the time she left his camp in the woods. His face grew stormy when she mentioned her covert training sessions with Wheedler and Brooks. No doubt he was upset about her sneaking into town unguarded. When she told him about seeing Baulo face-to-face in the market district, she gave an involuntary shudder.

  “And you’re sure it was him? You said the man looked different.”

  “There was no mistaking him.”

  “And he did nothing?”

  “No.”

  “And you haven’t seen or heard from him since?”

  “Not so much as a whisper.”

  Pax looked thoughtful. “Perhaps he has forgiven you.”

  Oh, how Nadja wished that was true. But, she knew better. She shook her head. “More like biding his time. I’ve stayed close to the conservatory since that day. I haven’t been alone outside the grounds. Even canceled my training sessions to avoid traveling through the city alone.”

  Pax opened his mouth to protest, but Nadja held up her hand. “I know, you said you wanted to accompany me whenever I left the conservatory. But, you were so different when you returned from the winter break. I wasn’t sure if you regretted making that offer. And besides that, with Baulo back in play, I didn’t want to burden you any more than I already had.”

  Pax’s face fell. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t come to me. In my heart, I have always been there for you. After the Candlefire Celebration, I just felt like—” He stopped and offered her a half smile. “Well, we’ve tabled that discussion for now, haven’t we?”

  Nadja returned his smile with a tentative one of her own.

  “But as for this Baulo,” said Pax, his eyes narrowing, “there has to be something we can do. You can’t keep living in fear of him for the rest of your life. Maybe we can appeal to the Delegation on your behalf. After all, it was an accident. And you didn’t actually kill him.”

  “And tell them what? That I am a Mevocali who used my voice to nearly kill one of their members? The city is already on edge over the possibility they—we—still exist. I can’t imagine they would be quick to come to my aid. Besides, the Wanderers may be citizens of Amrantir, but they have always maintained legal autonomy within the tribe. And my crime falls under their authority.”

  “I’m not giving up,” he said, rubbing a hand across his face. “Maybe your uncle will have some ideas. We can ask him if we ever make it out of this blasted cave.”

  “About that,” said Nadja. “I think I can get us out of here.”

  Pax watched her in stony silence as she explained her plan.

  “I don’t like it,” he said. “Didn’t you just tell me you’ve been avoiding being out in the open alone?”

  “You’re not going anywhere with your injuries,” she retorted. “And, it’s too risky for me to try to carry you. Besides, the Delegation is in session now, so Baulo is in Cantio. And, he’s the person I’m avoiding.”

  Reluctantly, Pax agreed, and they made plans for Nadja to get help. The tide was just beginning to ebb, but it would be dark before it reached its lowest point. They would stay in the relative safety of the cave for the night, and Nadja would set out at the next low tide.

  They passed the rest of the evening discussing everything from music to metaphysics, and by the end of the night, they had regained some of their comfortable congeniality.

  Though it was tempting to bed down for the night alongside Pax, given the cool underground air, Nadja kept to her side of the fire. She didn’t want to give him any false hope, and it pained her to be so close to him and know the relationship she’d longed for was just an illusion.

  The next morning, with the sun and the water low in their courses, Nadja said farewell to Pax and stepped out of the cave and into the Shadow Sea.

  Chapter 35

  The coastal city of Chansey lifted Nadja’s spirits with its familiar patchwork. Chansey was a hodgepodge of architecture and people, reflecting both its Amrantirian roots and the influence of the myriad ethnicities and nationalities which visited its harbor on a daily basis. While the law required all imports and exports to pass through Cantio, Chansey is where the people came and went.

  Her clothes were almost dry by the time she reached the harbor. The water outside the cave had been only a few feet deep when she’d left, and she’d made it to the east bank of the river without incident. Her blowpipe thumped against the stone walkway, dutifully disguised as a walking stick. Even with Baulo much further north, Nadja took no chances.

  It didn’t take long for her to reach her destination. The path to the Chansey Custom House was well marked, and she weaved her way through the crowd with relative ease. Once inside, however, her progress stopped.

  People, mostly men, packed the floor of the custom house, jockeying for positions in line before one of the six customs agents. The air was hot and stale and smelled of sweat and ink. Nadja paused in the doorway enjoying one last breath of fresh air, when something solid collided with the back of her shoulder, pushing her aside. She stumbled into the room as the man elbowed his way to a position in one of the lines. Undaunted, she plunged into the throng. Since the entrance doors acted as a funnel, drawing newcomers into the center of the room, Nadja shuffled to one of the outside lines.

  With each departure, the lines shifted and pressed forward like giant tentacles pulling the waiting crowd towards their collective goal. Nadja stood firm against the bumps and shoves, refusing to give ground lest she lose her place in line. By the time she reached the agent, she was exhausted.

  “Papers,” droned the agent, not bothering to look at her.

  Nadja disregarded his outstretched hand and leaned forward to be heard above the noisy crowd. “I need information.”

  The agent raised his heavy eyelids and graced her with a blank stare.

  Realizing she could expect no response from him, Nadja continued. “I’m looking for Tau Machinal. He captained a vessel from Cantio to Chansey some days ago.”

  The agent rotated on his stool as if by some form of mechanization and retrieved a book from the shel
ves behind him. Returning to face her, he placed the book on the counter between them and opened it. After a moment of research, his finger paused on a line of script.

  “Tau Machinal. Captain of Mia Fair. Arrived five days ago. No departure claims submitted.” Snapping the book closed, he spun on his stool, replacing the book on the shelf and turning back to face her in one fluid movement.

  “Next,” he said, inclining his head to the person behind her.

  The line surged forward, squeezing Nadja aside. Annoyed, she turned and elbowed her way towards the door. She’d have to come up with another plan. Short of canvasing the entire port, she wasn’t sure how to find her uncle.

  She was almost to the door when a large hand wrapped around her bicep, bringing her to a halt.

  “Well, well, what have we here?” crooned a familiar voice.

  Startled, Nadja looked up. “Wheedler!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  “I believe that’s my line,” the gentle giant smiled at her, releasing his grip on her arm. After the excitement of the past few days, it was a relief to see his familiar face.

  “I’m trying to find my uncle.”

  Wheedler laughed. “Aren’t you always?”

  Nadja gave him a sheepish grin.

  “Right this way,” he said, gesturing to the door.

  “On, no,” said Nadja, fielding another shove. “I don’t want you to give up your place in line.” She looked over her shoulder and glared at the pushy culprit. “I know how hard they are to come by.”

  “What’s a few more minutes in line when there’s a lady in distress?” Wheedler’s eyes twinkled as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her through the crowd. Nadja was once again surprised by how, even in the press of the custom house, people moved aside, creating an easy path for him.

  She gulped a mouthful of fresh air as soon as they stepped through the doors.

  “We’re set to sail in one hour. Your uncle sent me to clear up business here while he’s busy enjoying a nice hot meal.” The tone of Wheedler’s voice carried none of the envy suggested by his words. “Your best bet is to look in at The Whale’s Tale. That’s his favorite tavern here in Chansey, and I doubt he’ll be able to resist going home without stuffing in one more of Charity’s prawn pies first.”