At the other end of the corridor, a door stood ajar. Echo took one curious step forward, then another. That narrow opening glowed with a soft amber light that beckoned her forward. She was halfway to the door when a mournful tune drifted from the room. Someone was inside, coaxing sad notes from a piano’s keys.
Her footsteps were quiet as she approached. She couldn’t quite make out who was sitting at the piano; all she could see was a shadow falling across the plush red rug covering the stone floors, the vague impression of a person curved over the keys, the edges of their form flickering in the unsteady light of candles. Curiosity got the better of her, and she pushed the door open a little more.
The hinges squealed.
Abruptly, the music stopped.
Echo was already backing away. “Sorry, I just—”
“Echo?”
Caius’s voice froze her to the spot.
“You can come in,” he said, picking up where he’d left off in his playing. “No need to skulk about like a castle ghost. We have enough of those as it is.”
Castle ghosts? She filed that away to ask about later.
Echo entered the room, pushing the door closed behind her, the thick wood meeting the doorjamb with a meaty thud. The silence felt complete, as if the door were more than just a physical barrier from the sounds of the party drifting through the halls of the keep.
She took a moment to drink her fill of the room’s opulent decor. Thick carpeting covered nearly every inch of the stone floor, the same slate-gray as the rest of the fortress. Tapestries lined the walls, their silken threads shimmering in the amber glow of firelight. Candles sat at strategic positions around the room, illuminating the space just enough to grant it a sleepy, intimate warmth. Some had been placed in brass candleholders, but others had simply been wedged into the pools of wax left by their predecessors. The effect they created, combined with the plush furnishings and shelves packed to bursting with leather-bound books, reminded Echo a little of the Ala’s chamber at the Nest. That had felt like home, and so did this.
It also felt undeniably like Caius.
A gleaming black piano sat in the far corner of the room, its polished surface reflecting the light of the candles and the silver moonlight that fell through the only open window. On the matching bench in front of the piano sat Caius, his fingers resting gently on the keys. He watched Echo approach through heavy-lidded eyes, his head tilted quizzically.
“I take it you also found yourself in need of a break from the festivities,” he said as Echo drew nearer.
A sofa and two chairs sat at the center of the room in front of an unlit fireplace, and a daybed upholstered in rich emerald fabric was positioned near the open window, but there were no seats close to the piano. Echo went to stand next to it. She felt suddenly awkward, like a wallflower at a high school dance. Or how she imagined a wallflower at a high school dance would feel. She’d never attended one herself. Everything she knew about high schools she’d learned from Gossip Girl.
Wordlessly, Caius slid across the bench, making enough space for Echo to sit beside him. She sank down, the wood creaking slightly under the added weight.
“Your people know how to party,” Echo said. “A little too well.”
A faint smile whispered across his lips. “That they do. And they take great pride in it.” His fingers plucked out a half-considered melody. “To the outside world, we’re known for our passions on the battlefield. Our lust for action. Our desire for victory at all costs. Not many know that all that comes from a yearning to live life to its fullest. To savor each and every moment with zeal.”
Hearing the words “passion,” “lust,” and “desire” in the dimly lit setting, with his thigh pressed against hers and their shoulders brushing, was a bit much. Caius arched an eyebrow at her. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had to. He was too smart not to.
Echo thought about putting an inch or two between them. She didn’t. The pressure of his body against hers was nice. He was warm and solid, and she found she liked it very much. “That’s a very poetic way of describing the shenanigans going on downstairs,” she said. “I saw one guy puking into a vase made of solid gold.”
He huffed out a small laugh. “Ah, my people do nothing by halves, that much is true.”
“And what about you?” Echo nudged him with her shoulder. He nudged back. “Not in the partying mood?”
Caius shook his head, his dark bangs falling over his forehead, long enough to brush the tops of his eyebrows. He shook his head like a shaggy dog to get them out of the way. The gesture was oddly endearing. “Not particularly.” He dragged his fingers across the piano keys. Not enough pressure to make a sound, though they gave slightly under his touch. “I find myself in a rather contemplative mood.”
Echo watched him consider the notes he could play. There were words left in him. She could practically feel him vibrating with their unspoken potential. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He was silent for a moment, fingertips resting on the keys. He pressed down on one and a single lonely note floated into the air. They listened to it soften, then fade.
“I’m going to have to kill my sister, aren’t I?”
Echo turned her head to face him fully. His bangs had fallen forward again, masking his eyes. Save for the slow rise and fall of his chest, he was still.
It was an awful thing to contemplate. A truly horrific thing to consider, taking the life of someone one had loved, in the not-so-distant past. Probably. She had no siblings, not by blood, but Ivy was as close to a sister as Echo would ever have, and the notion of doing anything to cause her physical pain made her stomach turn. She couldn’t imagine having to kill Ivy, to know with such wretched certainty that she would have to kill her. Couldn’t even imagine Ivy doing anything to deserve it. Echo watched that great and terrible weight settle on Caius as he slouched on the bench, his shoulders curving over his hands, which still rested on the keys.
“Caius…”
She didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong. There was no disputing it. Tanith—and the monstrous thing riding her—had to be stopped. Permanently. And Echo wouldn’t shed a tear over it. She sincerely doubted she’d lose a single wink of sleep over the death of someone who had caused so much pain, such intense and prolonged suffering. It wasn’t like Ruby. Even if Echo had to sink her dagger into Tanith’s heart herself, it would never be like Ruby, who had done nothing but follow the orders of a man she idolized. Killing Ruby had been a tragedy. Killing Tanith would be a triumph.
But it was hard to feel triumphant in the face of Caius’s pain. Echo inched her hand closer to his, waiting for him to withdraw. He didn’t. She twined her fingers with his and he turned his hand over to better grasp hers.
“I’m sorry,” she said. And she meant it. She would not regret Tanith’s death. But she would regret, for the rest of her days, the stain it would leave on Caius’s soul, no matter how justified killing her might be.
He looked at her, his green eyes nearly black in the dim light. “Is it wrong to mourn her? After all she’s done?”
Echo shook her head. “No.”