The Black Witch. Laurie Forest

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      Tears come to my eyes as the melody reaches its crescendo, the music piercing through me. I let it flow, through the wood of the bow, the wood of the violin, as I gently, gracefully bring the piece to its mournful close.

      I lower my bow, eyes still closed, the room stone silent for one blessed, magical moment.

      The ballroom erupts into loud, enthusiastic applause.

      I open my eyes as the crowd converges around me, the members of the small orchestra showering me with a cacophony of praise and compliments.

      But perhaps the clearest measure of the quality of my performance can be seen in the expression on Fallon Bane’s face. She stands, her mouth agape, looking horrified, while her friends regard me with newly blossoming approval.

      I turn to find out who my savior at the piano is, and my breath hitches when I see him.

      He is, by far, the best-looking young man I have ever seen in my life, with strong, finely chiseled features, the dashing attire of a Gardnerian soldier and absolutely riveting deep green eyes.

      And he’s smiling at me.

      I can guess who this is without needing to be introduced.

      Lukas Grey.

      He gets up from the piano seat in one fluid, graceful movement. He’s tall with broad shoulders, the lean body of a natural athlete, and the controlled movements of a panther. And the sleeves of his black military tunic are marked with five silver bands.

      As he approaches me, Fallon Bane immediately falls in next to him, threads her arm territorially through his and fixes me with a threatening glare.

      Lukas glances down at Fallon’s arm with surprised amusement, then looks back up at me and cocks one black eyebrow, as if we’re old friends sharing an inside joke. Suddenly, my aunt appears at Lukas’s other side and she focuses in on Fallon, a pleasant, yet calculating look on her face.

      “Fallon, dear,” she croons, “Priest Vogel and I need to speak with you.”

      Fallon’s face takes on an expression of sheer panic as her eyes dart back and forth from Lukas to me and back to my aunt again. She opens her mouth as if trying to formulate a protest, but nothing comes out. Lukas continues to look at me with those dazzling eyes, amused by the situation.

      “Come along, dear.” My aunt directs Fallon. She gestures across the room to where Priest Vogel stands surrounded by a bright-eyed, adoring throng. I cautiously meet the priest’s piercing gaze, and he nods.

      Fallon releases Lukas’s arm like she’s abandoning a hard-won treasure and shoots me a look of pure loathing. “I’ll be right back,” she snipes as she passes, her tone holding a thick edge of menace.

      As my aunt leads her firmly away, Fallon glances back at us repeatedly, her face a mask of furious desperation.

      I turn to Lukas.

      Holy Ancient One, he’s beautiful.

      “Thank you for playing,” I say with honest gratitude.

      He places an arm casually on the top of the piano, leaning into it. “It was a pleasure. It’s not often that I get to play with a superior musician. It was a privilege, actually.”

      I laugh nervously. “I’m not the superior musician. I pretty much butchered the beginning.”

      His eyes glint. “Yes, well, you were nervous. But you quickly made up for it.”

      He languidly pushes himself up and holds his hand out to me. “I’m Lukas Grey.”

      “I know,” I reply unsteadily, taking his hand. His handshake is firm and strong.

      “You know?” he says, cocking an eyebrow.

      “Fallon. When I saw her take your arm, I figured out who you were. She told me that you’re about to be fasted to her.”

      “Oh, did she now?” He’s grinning again.

      “Aren’t you?”

      “No.”

      “Oh.”

      “She did corner me earlier to tell me all about you,” he says, smiling.

      “What did she say?”

      “Well, the obvious. That you look exactly like your grandmother.” He leans in so close I can feel his breath on my ear. “I’ve seen portraits of your grandmother. You’re much more attractive than she ever was.”

      I gulp, mesmerized by him.

      He straightens back up as my face starts to betray my quickening pulse by coloring.

      “What else did she tell you?” I ask.

      “She said that you’re head over heels in love with Gareth Keeler.”

      A nervous laugh comes sputtering out of me. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

      “So it’s not true?”

      “No!” I say, scrunching my face up in disbelief. “I mean...we used to take baths together!”

      He grins wickedly.

      “In a washbasin!” I splutter, making it worse.

      “Lucky for him,” he says, raising his eyebrows in delight.

      “No, no...it’s not at all what you’re thinking.”

      “I’m thinking that I’m becoming more envious of Gareth Keeler by the minute.”

      “We were small children,” I cry, desperately trying to exorcise the picture forming in his mind. “I’ve known him all my life. We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.”

      He just stands there, grinning, enjoying this way too much.

      I sigh. “What else did Fallon tell you?” I ask, giving up.

      “She told me that you’ve never been kissed.”

      I roll my eyes at this, mortified. “I should never have told her that. I think she’s told everyone in the room.”

      He fixes me with eyes full of suggestion. “Well, that’s easily remedied.”

      “What?” I say stupidly.

      He steps back and holds out his hand. “C’mon,” he says, grinning.

      I can make out Fallon across the room, still cornered by my aunt, giving us a look of pure rage.

      Heart pounding, I take Lukas’s hand and follow as he leads me briskly through the crowd and out of the ballroom.

      * * *

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