“You did? I—It felt special to me, but not like my dream. Not like that.”
“I’ve heard it before, too. When you played ‘Ana Incarnate’ for the first time. I heard lightning and waves and wind. I heard . . . this force. This power that you play with.”
His eyes met mine, dark and full of wonder. “Do you think that’s it? The phoenix song?”
“Maybe.” I smiled. “I think it could be.”
“But we still don’t know what it is, or how to do it on purpose. What use is it?”
It seemed to me he could call the music whenever he wanted, but I didn’t want to pressure him. “We know it terrifies dragons. They think it can destroy them. It must be powerful. It feels powerful to me when I hear it.”
He said nothing.
“To me, it sounded like life. The way the whole world seemed to join in, it made me feel alive.”
“But dragons think it will destroy them.”
“Maybe it depends who’s using it, and why. The book said it was the song of life and death. Beginnings and endings. They’re all tied up together. It’s the phoenix song. Expecting it to be as straightforward as a knife is a little unrealistic.” I shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me about the dream before?”
“At first,” he said, “I thought it was only a dream, and I didn’t want to burden you with it. What we’re doing tomorrow night is so much bigger than a half-remembered symphony.”
“It’s still important to me, if it’s important to you.”
He leaned his cheek on the crown of my head, his whisper a confession. “Even if we survive the ascension, what about the caldera? How can anyone survive Range erupting? How can anyone survive the ash cloud? It seems like no matter what we do, this is the end.”
“If we stop Janan from ascending, the earth might settle, too. No eruption.” No more earthquakes. Even now, I could feel a shudder in the ground, a constant reminder of the world’s ability to open up.
“Then we could have this.” He caught my hand in his, pressing it against his cheek. “A life together. And maybe it’s only one, but we can fit a lot into one life.”
“We’ve already done a lot. Flown on the backs of dragons. Discovered millennia-old secrets. Watched newsouls come into the world.”
“Found each other at the masquerade.” He kissed my fingertips.
“You knew who I was as soon as I arrived.” I rolled my eyes. “But I knew you.” When he’d shown me old photos, I’d known him in them, too.
“Maybe I knew you.”
“Because I was wearing giant butterfly wings.”
“That was a big clue, I’ll admit.”
“And I was probably the only person who didn’t tell everyone else what they were going as.”
He flashed a half smile. “Don’t you want me to have known you immediately?”
“Oh, I do.” I brushed my thumb over his cheekbone. “But I want it to be real. Not because you’re a reasonably intelligent person who can recognize a short redhead when she’s hiding her face. Besides, I know you don’t believe in the matching souls stuff.”
“You make me want to believe.” He grew quiet.
Even if we lived through tomorrow night, I’d always look like me, even if I put on another costume. Besides, people didn’t dedicate their souls to each other after only one life. A dedication of souls was supposed to be forever.
“I’ve decided,” I whispered into the dimness. The sonata’s final notes faded and another piece began, all warm lute strings and a clarinet.
“What’s that?” His voice was heat, and his breath traced over the curves of my cheek. I never wanted to move.
“Everyone is terrified of the unknown. What happens after? Where do you go? What do you do?”
He gave a slight nod.
“I’ve decided what I think happens. Everyone is so busy being afraid, no one considers that what happens next might be good, too. Different. But not bad. Not something to be afraid of.”
Sam kissed my cheek. “That sounds very wise.”
“I don’t want to be afraid of something that’s inevitable. I don’t want to go rushing toward it, because there are so many things I want to experience in life, but being terrified of something natural like that seems like a waste of energy.”
“The pain that often accompanies death isn’t very pleasant.” He kept his voice low, thoughtful. “And pain often is a good reason to fear something. Fear is natural, too. It’s what keeps us alive, sometimes.”
I nodded. “I don’t mean about not being afraid of everything that goes along with death. I’m still for avoiding it. I want to live. But as a whole thing. What happens next. What really happens next—rather than reincarnation bought with another’s soul—doesn’t have to be scary. I choose to believe it’s another good thing. Like life. Another beginning. Only different.”