Sing Sweet Nightingale (14 page)

Maybe the middle ground is the best option. If I tell Orane exactly what happened, he can make up his own mind.

“It’s probably nothing.” I pull away and look up. “My parents had a dinner party.”

“Tell me about it,” he says.

“This boy named Hudson came over with his grandfather Horace because my father admires Horace’s work with…something. I can’t remember what now.”

Orane stiffens, but his expression is almost blank.

Starting at the beginning, I tell him the whole story, including all the moments that made me question Hudson’s knowledge. The more I talk, though, the more trivial all those moments seem.

My mother might have mentioned my nightingale to Hudson, and the words he played aren’t exactly uncommon. They’re practically elementary-school level. His apparent ability to see the glow could be explained, too. What if his eyes are that black because there’s something wrong with the pupils? It would make sense that a high sensitivity to light
might
give him the ability to see the nightingale’s glow. Hudson did mention having a headache.

Orane’s smile grows, and he relaxes, his fingers absently playing with the loose strands of my hair. If it weren’t for his eyes, the tension around them and the way they’re shifting from violet to plum, I might believe what happened tonight doesn’t matter.

“You were right to tell me.” His hands cup my cheeks, and he smiles. “However, he should not be an issue.”

“Are you sure?” He’s probably right, but it felt
so
important earlier.

“I am sure.”

Before I can say another word, he wraps me up in his arms and kisses me hard, holding my face to his in a grip impossible to escape. I am a puddle in his hands, and then, suddenly, he’s gone.

“To the farthest mountain and back,” he shouts back to me, vaulting onto one of the waiting unicorns.

My vision is blurred and my head is heavy. I sway on my feet, almost falling, but the pounding of hooves snaps everything into focus.

“Cheater!” I yell after him.

I scramble onto the unicorn’s back, grip her sides between my knees, and wrap my fingers in her mane. Without a signal, she bursts forward, running as though both of our lives depend on it.

Orane is so far ahead I can’t see him.

I tell myself I don’t care, that I’m used to losing to Orane and all I really want is to thunder across this world on horseback, but that is such a lie. Winning isn’t the only thing that matters, but years of losing make it seem that way.

Gripping the unicorn’s sides tighter, I lean across her neck. I breathe in cycles until my heart is beating in time with her hooves crashing against the ground. She instinctively avoids the pitfalls before her, jumping felled trees and small creeks without signals from me. It leaves me free to plot our route.

The turn is a huge jacaranda tree, its purple blooms nearly a match for Orane’s eyes. I point the unicorn in that direction, her pearly horn like the needle of a compass directing our path, but I can’t see the jacaranda yet. There’s too far to go and too many trees, hills, and rocks in the way. We’re riding with the wind at our back, but unless I find a course that will shave precious minutes off my time, Orane is going to win. Again.

I try to think of a path I haven’t used. I need to win tonight. I can’t quite figure out why, but I
need
to win tonight. I need a way through the mountains.

Wait…

I need a way
through
the mountains.

Orane doesn’t look for shortcuts; he bends the world to his will. His horse races across the land so fast its hooves barely touch down. Obstacles take no time to surmount because they are all part of
his
world. He created them. He can erase them.

If I can see this place and be part of his world, can I control it too?

I better learn how, or I’ll spend the rest of eternity losing at every game we play.

Pressing my hands against the unicorn’s neck, I try not to think of her as a physical thing, but as the energy Orane created her from. At first, there’s nothing. Nothing beyond what I can see and touch and smell. Her hair is soft and smooth against my skin; I feel her muscles bunching and stretching as she flies over the open fields and climbs into the foothills of the mountains; she smells like oats and cut grass and flowers.

Trying again, I empty my mind, pushing out what I
think
I feel and trying to feel what
is
.

Nothing happens.

The unicorn bounds across the landscape faster and faster, but it’s not quick enough to match Orane, especially since he’s stopped holding back tonight. I haven’t seen or heard him since the race began.

I keep trying to find that energy as I use every shortcut I’ve ever found. My unicorn and I travel tunnels so tight she can barely pass through them and leap gorges inches away from being impossible. We’re perfectly in sync, as though she’s sensing my directions before I give them, and I’m making the best time I ever have.

It’s not good enough. I need more.

I refuse to be some hanger-on for all eternity, dependent on Orane for everything. If I’m going to come here, I need to be able to take care of myself.

Orane always told me I was special, worth bringing into this world. If he’s right, shouldn’t I be able to interact with this place the same way he does? If I can be here at all, that
has
to be true. He taught me how to create music here by thinking about it, and how to breathe underwater without drowning. I have to find a way to take those skills a step further.

I breathe again, this time searching for the energy of his world the same way he taught me to find the energy within my nightingale. The same way he taught me to summon music in the opera hall when I perform.

There’s a buzzing in the air—soft, like someone humming. It’s there, but trying to do anything with it is like trying to paint with sound.

As we cross the last ridge before the jacaranda comes into sight, I hear a syncopated rhythm out of time with my unicorn’s hooves. Less than a second later, a white blur races past me in the opposite direction. Orane. He’s already made the turn and is on his way back to the willow. He’s at least ten minutes ahead of me.
Somehow
he’s that far ahead of me. Despite every shortcut and trick I could pull.

My teeth grind together so hard I swear I hear them crack.

No. Not this time. Tonight I am
going
to find a way to win.

As I race for the jacaranda, tag its branches, and gallop away, I keep reaching for the energy thrumming through this world. Every time, it slips through my fingers. It’s like trying to hold sand. But like sand, sometimes, if you hold tight, you can keep a tiny bit.

I grab, and suddenly it’s there.

Instead of running around me, a single, thin current of energy begins to run
through
me. I see the world in a way I never have before. It’s more and less vibrant, as though I’m seeing it through two sets of eyes. The double vision shows me two versions of Orane’s world—the bright, magical Paradise I’m used to seeing and the one underneath, the building blocks and placeholders he uses to create his universe.

A boulder is ahead, one that marks a two-mile detour around the base of the mountain. I try to push it out of the way or create a hole—anything that means I won’t have to turn my unicorn away and miss the path I know lies behind it.

“Open, disappear, do
something
!” I mutter, gripping my unicorn tighter.

She whinnies and picks up speed. The energy in the air around us shifts into her, cushioning her hooves and propelling her forward faster than I thought possible. She’s not turning. She’s heading straight for the boulder.

Trusting her instincts, I concentrate all my thoughts on making that rock vanish.

It doesn’t.

We go straight through it, just as if it had.

Laughing, I urge my unicorn faster. She moves until her legs are a blur beneath us. The wind in my face almost blows me off her back, but nothing can separate us now. We’re connected through the energy of Paradise. I can almost read her mind. With her help, we push through obstacles we would’ve avoided before. Not all of them are insurmountable, but enough are. Enough to shave precious time from our race.

We pass through a valley between two mountains, and I hear hooves echoing from the upper trail. I grin as we leave them in the dust.

Faster and faster and faster we fly until I turn around that last ridge, holding my breath as I come within sight of the willow tree.

“No!”

I lost. Orane is standing there, his mount already gone, staring out over the lake as though he’s been waiting for me for
hours
.

My extra speed vanishes. My will to finish vanishes with it.

The unicorn, sensing my apathy, pulls out of her gallop. When she’s down to a steady walk, I slide off her back and walk beside her.

Orane hasn’t noticed my approach yet. He hasn’t moved at all since I spotted him.

Stroking the back of my unicorn and silently telling her to stop, I trudge up the slope alone. He still doesn’t know I’m here. Hands in the pockets of his riding pants, auburn hair blowing in the breeze, and sun-kissed skin almost glowing in the twilight, Orane looks too perfect to be real. Maybe because he is. I was a fool to ever think I could keep up with him for eternity.

When I’m within reach, I bring my hand up to touch his shoulder. His entire body tenses. Orane blinks, pulling in a sharp, short breath, and looks down at me.

The tingling I felt near Hudson is nothing compared to the spark shooting through my head now. Hudson is static electricity. This is lightning. Light bursts behind my eyes, and the roar in my ears would rival a space shuttle launch. I want to scream. I can’t remember how.

As quickly as they hit, the pain and the light and the sound are gone. I’m staring up into Orane’s wide, violet eyes.

Despite the warmth settling over my body now, tiny aftershocks make my muscles twitch and spasm. Those tremors are the only sign that the lightning wasn’t some waking nightmare.

“Mariella?” Orane reaches out to brush a hand over my hair.

I catch myself a split second before I flinch. What
was
that? It hit me the moment his eyes locked on mine—his dark purple eyes. But they’re violet now, and his touch sends calming, soothing shivers through my body. His hands bring warmth and comfort, and his eyes hold love—and a touch of confusion.

“You returned faster than I expected.” He’s smiling, but there are lines around his eyes and a slight wrinkle on his forehead.

“Wow. Faster than you expected?” I shake my head and pull away.
Faster
than he expected? Am I really that slow?

I’ve always known he held back in our races. I
knew
that. Knowing it and seeing exactly how far behind him—
below
him—I really am hits me like a piano dropping on my head.

What does he see in me, other than my ability to carry a tune? Is he so entertained by music that nightly performances make it worth putting up with someone who can’t challenge him on any other level? That’s one of the things I love about Orane, that he pushes me to be better, faster, smarter, and
more
than I ever could’ve been without him.

So what does he see in me?

I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure. I would never want to be with someone who couldn’t at least keep up with me. Now I feel like I’m the remora fish and he’s the whale. It costs him nothing to let me stay, but what in the name of all that’s holy does he
gain
?

Clicking my tongue, I call the unicorn closer, stroking her nose when she bumps it against my chest. “How long were you there? You looked like you were waiting for a long time.”

“You are upset.” He walks around until he’s standing next to the unicorn, frowning at me. “Nightingale, you always accuse me of holding back when we race, but this is why I do. You hate losing night after night, but you would hate losing by so much even more.”

Wincing, I turn my face against the unicorn’s neck.

Orane is right. I would’ve hated knowing exactly how hopeless victory was. But now I
do
know. So what now? What can I do to be worthy of keeping what I love so much?

The unicorn whinnies quietly.

“It’s not your fault,”
I try to tell her, stroking her neck.
“You did everything I asked of you. I didn’t know how to ask for more.”

“Mariella?” His hand traces the line of my braid. “Nightingale, look at me, please.”

He phrases it like a request, but it’s not. Orane can be as stubborn as me when he wants to be. Too bad that, right now, I’m feeling especially stubborn.

I grip the unicorn tighter. My eyes burn, my chest aches, and my muscles are jumping from the effects of that bolt of lightning. Or whatever it was. The weight pressing down on me is heavy, almost like grief. I’ve lost something, and I don’t know what it is.

“Mariella,” Orane sighs. His hand presses against the unicorn’s neck. Maybe because of how hard I worked to find the energy tonight, I sense the pulse he sends through her. It’s a command. He’s sending the unicorn away.

For the first time in the ten years I’ve known Orane, something in his world doesn’t listen to him. She shifts her weight and her dark eyes lock on Orane, but my unicorn is still here, solid and real under my hands.

Orane is standing so close I feel his tension. He commands her to leave again, sending a stronger pulse through her body, one that makes her muscles jerk.

My unicorn whinnies and brings her head around to rest on my shoulder. Almost as though she’s asking me for permission to obey.

“Go ahead,”
I try to tell her.
“And thank you.”

She rubs her cheek against mine before fading from sight.

I should’ve named her
, I think as she disappears.
She was so sweet
.

Orane sighs and places his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him. Despite how much I want to duck my head and look away, I won’t. I can’t let myself. Staring into his eyes, I look for an answer, some hope that keeping up with Orane might be possible.