Chapter 59

“What the fuckkk,” Anton seethes, frantically stepping out onto the terrace, spinning in a circle as he looks everywhere for her. Did she – is she somewhere else? Or is she just invisible?

He gasps, though, as that terrible tug pulls hard behind his belly button and he, too, vanishes into the air. He stumbles when his feet again find a steady surface beneath him, his head whipping up, looking for.

Anton finds Juniper instantly, of course. After all, there’s not much else around.

Because they’re on the fucking roof – a flat black surface with only the flat black sky above them, the moons hanging heavy and mournful as they provide some light.

“Juniper!” Anton shouts, his temper slipping its lead for just a moment. Easy, his wolf cautions, but Anton just nods inwardly and takes control, striding for Juniper and willing himself to calm. “What the hell are you doing up here!?”

“I told you!” she shouts, glaring over her shoulder. “I needed more air!”

“Well you’ve got it!” he shouts back, spreading his hands out wide at the nothingness all around them. “Nothing up here but air!”

“Good!” she bites back, striding a little further away and then standing with her hands on her hips, panting a little as she looks around, clearly trying to figure out what to do next.

Anton just gapes at this…this tiny little person. Who is so angry, and so powerful, and so…fucking magnificent. And so annoyingly frustrating too – he can’t forget that. But he just stares at her, at a complete loss for what to do and how to help. Juniper Sinclair is…a force unto herself. And Anton, for perhaps the first time since they met, is at a complete loss as to how to handle her.

Yes, his wolf says, trotting proudly around in his soul, his tail held high. She is free, like wind, like a rushing river. She is so wonderful, and so pretty –

But Anton just sighs and waves an inner hand at his wolf, dismissing the thought. Because right now he really, really doesn’t need to dwell on how fucking pretty Juniper is.

He wastes enough time on that already.

Instead Anton just waits, only a tiny bit anxious that she’s going to do something stupid like jump off the edge of the roof. Or fucking…fly off it and soar into the air or something. Anton sincerely hopes she does not, because he is…not the world’s largest fan of heights.

But Juniper just sighs in frustration, her hands falling to her sides as fists, and then she stares hard at the roof in front of her.

And to Anton’s shock, a piano appears.

Not the grand piano, black and shiny and intimidating, that Juniper played on and then destroyed in the auditorium tonight.

No, this one is…smaller, sweeter. Just a small, upright piano made of wood that’s nearly white, with pretty pink roses painted on the sides, outlined in gilt. Demure and sweet but obviously a very fine instrument.

The sort of piano a Queen might buy the moment she realized her daughter had an affinity for music. The sort of gift that musical little girl might have looked at with awe on the day it was presented, her fingertips barely daring to touch the keys, hardly able to believe that something this pretty is real, let alone hers.

Anton’s heart swells when he realizes without a doubt that this is a replica of Juniper’s piano from home. But he clenches his jaw, knowing that June seeing the emotion on his face right now isn’t going to help anyone. So he just stands, stoic, and waits.

June conjures a little stool – plush, with a pretty green fabric top – and then sits down hard on it, staring at the keys. And then she spins her head to glare at Anton, her expression furious.

And Anton can’t help his smile because…how can anyone be that furious while sitting on such a plush bench, in front of such a pretty piano?

But of course, as usual, Juniper manages the unthinkable.

“Don’t you dare listen,” she bites out, anger in her voice again hiding the fear that roils beneath it.

“June,” Anton sighs, spreading his hands wide, desperately wishing he could go away if privacy is what she really wants. “I…I’m here. There’s not much I can do.”

Juniper’s mouth turns down in a desperate frown and Anton locks his knees to avoid running to her. And he just waits.

“Fine,” she snaps, livid, turning back towards the piano. “Then just…turn around. And pretend you’re not here.”

“As you wish, highness,” Anton murmurs. It’s a lie, though. Because he has no real intention of turning away. He’s not…entirely sure he can. Anton just sits on the roof and watches for a moment as Juniper lifts her hands to the keys, drifting her fingertips over them. Then he turns his head to the side, looking out over the wasteland of the Underworld, observing it with interest from these heights.

God, it really does…stretch on forever, doesn’t it? And there’s just…nothing.

Except…Anton frowns a little and leans forward, as if a couple of inches is going to help him see the horizon any better. Is there…something there suddenly? Clouds?

But how can there be clouds – he’s never, ever seen clouds here before. Never seen weather at all. Just…darkness.

Consideration of this question ends immediately when Juniper begins to play. Anton snaps his head to her, his ears perking up alongside his wolf’s, as she slowly begins to press the keys.

Whatever she’s playing now is…strikingly different than what she played in the auditorium. From the very beginning that piece had been strikingly complex, demonstrating Juniper’s true mastery of the instrument. He had watched with awe as her fingers flew over the keys with remarkable grace and speed, coaxing the complex melody piece by piece from the wood and the strings.

This one is…so much simpler. But with so, so much more of Juniper’s heart. He can tell from the very first lines that this is music is nothing like anything he’s ever heard before. And that it’s entirely hers.

The wind picks up as Juniper continues to play and a shiver runs down Anton’s spine. He watches her, every moment, as she loses herself to the melody. It’s shockingly uncomplicated, always returning to the same refrain before voyaging out again into unknown musical experiments. He can tell that she plays some of it by memory, but some of it is experimentation. Just Juniper…playing. Juniper truly putting her whole self into the song.

Anton hadn’t been aware before that she’d been holding back in the auditorium. But god, seeing her now? He realizes that what she gave them was…nothing. Nothing to what she can truly do. Nothing to what she plays now.

The notes of the song begin to clang through him, sweeping him away in their power and their magic. Juniper’s fingers move quickly, pressing the keys with vehemence, the song growing in its intensity to become a rough dirge, a ballad of fear, of dreams dashed to the ground and roughly gathered back together in the fervid hope that they can become what they once were.

Look, his wolf urges, beckoning him inside. Anton closes his eyes, sending his mind to the inner reaches of his soul, and gasps to see an incredible landscape there. His wolf runs, dashing through the snow-tipped mountains, leaping from craig to craig. Anton tips his head back and gapes at the aurora in the sky, sweeping and majestic, barely comprehensible in both its glory and its sheer scope. She’s here! His wolf calls, far ahead, dashing forward. Come on – we can find her –

But Anton opens his eyes as he feels rain start to fall on his face. No, he murmurs to his wolf, letting him run free in the wild landscape forming in his soul, she’s here.

Here. Right here.

Anton watches in awe as Juniper pounds away at the keys, her entire body moving with every note, the music seeming to come from her instead of the instrument, so connected is she to it, so in tune with every single sound. As Anton watches Juniper, the clouds roll in above them, heavy and laden with rain that begins to fall. Slow at first, matching the song when it first began.

But in moments it’s a deluge, a riot of water, each drop pounding down in time to the music, in tune with Juniper’s heartbeat as entwines her very self with the song. Anton feels the truth of it as the rain passes through him, as thunder rumbles, shaking the entire palace when Juniper’s hand moves sharply to the left, hitting the low notes on the piano.

Anton feels that Juniper is doing this - that she’s doing it all, with her heart, and her song. That she’s summoning the rain to the skies, and calling it down to pour around her, each drop of it a tear she refuses to let roll down her cheek. And he starts to laugh as he stares – as he watches the magnificent goddess before him play with her eyes closed, and her mouth hanging open, water sliding down her face and across that sweet nose, dripping over her lips to drop off her chin.

His watches as the water slides down her throat – and god, god but does he wish for a body – for a mouth – for he could drink every drop and never slake that thirst.

But he doesn’t have a body, or a mouth, or a tongue – as much as he might want one in this moment. Anton tucks the desire away and leans back so that he’s stretched out on the roof, propped up on his elbows, his own head tilted back and his eyes closed. He lets the storm of Juniper’s music sweep through him, completely carrying him away.

Lost, and glad to be.

Forever lost in this girl, this goddess. The center of his entire life.

Or his death, as it were.

Below, people spill out onto the palace grounds, staring around in wonder. These lands haven’t seen in…in hundreds of years.

“The prophecy,” they whisper, excited, raising their hands to feel the rain on their palms, some for the first time.

“Foretold,” others murmur, in awe, as they fall to their knees.

But one Prince has no thoughts for that, walking far enough away from the palace that he can see the roof. And there, barely – just barely – he can hear the song that calls down the rain.

It’s a miracle – it’s all a miracle – he knows it. But still, he scowls as he stares at the roof. But not at the soaked figure in black drawing magic from the keys.

At the blue light next to her, stretched out, basking in her glory.

Jealousy runs wild in Orion’s heart.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Just…fuck.”