was a dull shine to their gaze that made me feel furious.
“Hello,” I greeted her guests as my stepmother fussed with my hair, tucking it behind my ear.
“I was just telling them what a talented harpist you are, honey. Would you like to play?” She asked in a way that wasn’t a question. I had grown used to the stares but tonight they felt different, they felt more intense. I shivered, not loving how some of the men were staring at me.
Unfortunately for most modern women, being stared at by men is usually the norm. Most women grow up having dealt with the creepiness most of their lives. It was fucking pathetic that men couldn’t keep their eyes off women half their age. Still, even after years of people being creepy, the annoyance was there. Why did we have to ‘deal’ with it? Why couldn’t someone cut their dicks off…alright, clearly I am a bit stressed.
“Of course,” I nodded looking over at the large wooden harp set up along the floor. The one being played wasn’t mine. This one though? With carved flowers and mythical creatures on it? That was mine.
I traced the fairy on the edge and my eyes widened in realization. I looked up at the Midsummer’s Night Dream art on the ceiling, and other fairy tales that trailed on each panel of the ballroom. Had my mother known? Had she known about fairies? Was that why she’d been so into fairytales and fantastical worlds? Was that why Denise had thought she’d lost her mind?
I sat down, the room quieting, but I wasn’t paying much attention. The moment my fingers pressed to the string and the weight of the harp was against me, my eyes closed as I entered into my own reality.
Harp had always come more natural than other instruments. I had only taken a few classes before I began to excel at it. Now, playing was nearly second nature. The delicate nature of the harp and the way the strings vibrated against my fingers, made me feel centered. Made me feel like I was here and grounded, instead of living in my head. I never felt more centered than when I was playing the harp.
Honestly, I had no idea how long I played for and at some point, the other artists joined in but as my stepmother knew, I would play until I didn’t anymore. I could feel myself drawing to a close but I kept my eyes closed, refusing to break the bubble. Refusing to bring myself into the real world filled with absent parents, social pressure, and being an oddity. When I was playing music and riding horses it seemed like most people liked me, or at least didn’t shun me.
Still, the other musicians tapered off and as I finished mine, I let a tired exhale out. Wasn’t that the truth. Every piece of music came to a close and I was praying this song in the symphony of my life was nearly over. I needed to move on. At least from Denise. Around me, the room broke into polite applause which I, of course, appreciated but it was hollow. They didn’t understand or feel the music. Their attention already moved to my stepmother and her antics.
Her voice was loud and charming as the guests focused on her. It was odd because I didn’t think any of them even liked her. I had no idea why they pretended except for possible personal gain because of her status within the community. It couldn’t be fear because the worst the woman seemed capable of was crushing you with her disappointment.
I opened my eyes and met a pair of soft velvet eyes from across the room. It was unsurprising because that wash of dizzy energy had been on my peripheral, and now it made sense.
Merrick.
I stood up, smoothed out my dress, and moved through the crowd. There was no point in avoiding him because his attention was very much focused on me. He was so striking, it was a bit unfair, wasn't it?
I knew he was going to want to talk about that damn weird…dream? Daydream? I had no idea what it was. What the hell was even going on between us? You know what, probably nothing. I needed to just not overthink it and assume everyone was losing it. I would just wait until the truth hit me in the fucking face. I barely had time to appreciate the suit he was in before someone blocked