Page 46 of Harmonic Pleasure (Mysterious Arts #6)
F arran set his shoulder against the wall from what had become his usual seat on Friday nights.
Saturday, too, most of the time. He’d enjoyed the evening tremendously already, but tonight was a little special.
This was Vega’s last performance for the summer, and that was why he was here, unusually, on a Sunday.
Tomorrow, they’d sleep in. Then they’d finish the last of their packing and spend several days at Astralis for the summer solstice gathering. Once that was done— or rather, once they’d recovered from it— he and Vega would set off for three months in Paris.
He had an arrangement to work with an appraiser there, and to become familiar with one of the key magical collections.
Vega had been snapped up by one of the better magical clubs in the city.
They’d gone over at the beginning of June, and found a flat that overlooked the Seine, entirely magical.
And far enough above the streets they could keep the air sweet and quieter with charms, too.
He looked forward to a lot of things to come.
The food, the art, the architecture, the different approaches to how magic twined with all those things.
But mostly, he looked forward to exploring them with Vega.
She was only singing three nights a week, giving them four days to see a bit of the city in the evenings.
And if Farran was a trifle nervous about the solstice gathering, well, it wasn’t his first time at one.
Vega would be right with him the entire time, and he was still in extremely good favour with her older aunts and uncles.
Politeness, a certain amount of competence in Greek, and Vega’s visible fierceness about him all worked to his advantage.
Vega came out for the last set. As she’d told him, this one was all songs of magic, taken from folklore, from myth, and two modern compositions, both set to words from some of the War poets.
They were haunting, enchanting, a tangle of emotions, with Vega’s voice like a light on the path, showing the way forward.
He was always torn about whether to watch her or close his eyes and focus on listening to her. This time he watched, because Pasco was outdoing himself with the illusion work.
After the last song, the encore, the second encore, Vega finally kissed her fingers to the crowd.
“Darlings, I’ll be back in the autumn, I promise.
And I expect with some new songs to delight you with.
Do keep coming by. I know Madam Helena has several surprises in store!
” Then she blew a kiss into the crowd, turned to thank the band, and walked off the stage.
That was Farran’s cue to slip out, go down the other stairs, and through the staff door into the dressing rooms. By the time he opened her door, Vega had her shoes off, her fingers undoing her hair. “Can you get the zipper, my love?”
He did, letting his fingers flow down her back. He did not touch beyond that, not now. They’d have time when they got home, and more privacy. It wasn’t kind to the other staff of the club to walk in on that. Vega had set that quite sensible limit. Besides, both of them liked the anticipation.
Once she’d wriggled out of the dress and packed it properly, she slipped on her more comfortable frock, and turned around to kiss him on the nose. “Did the roses come out right?”
“Excellently. The shadows were perfect.” Pasco had been fussing over that for the last three days. “How do you feel about it?”
“Like taking off my shoes at the end of the night. Comfortable. Glad I’ll be coming back, that this isn’t goodbye forever. But looking forward to, to having a new face, somewhere different.”
Farran nodded, feeling he wanted to talk more about that, but moving out of the way. She circled the dressing room, packing up the last few bits and bobs. There were only the things she’d needed at this stage left. Once she had them all in her case, he offered his arm. “Home?”
“Home.” That, of course, involved a certain amount of fuss. The rest of the performers were done for the night, she’d been the last soloist. They worked their way along the lines of doors, ending with Madam Helena by the stage door.
“Do write, darling. And let me know where to send notes, so you know all the gossip when you come back.” Vega promised, and Farran knew she’d do that. A relationship with a club owner like that was precious.
Finally, they were in the cab, the last ride for a while, with Fred wishing them both well. It wasn’t until they were back up in Farran’s flat that Vega closed her eyes. “You were thinking?”
“I am often thinking,” Farran pointed out. “Tonight, that I think it’s good for you to have a space to show a different face now and again.”
Vega blinked at him. “Explain?”
“Bedroom.” Farran said it comfortably. They’d been together long enough for that to feel easy to say, though still always a thrill.
She snorted and went to wash off the last of her cosmetics while he made his last evening preparations. Once they were both in bed, his arm curled around her, she said, “Explain now?”
Farran kissed her nose. “I was thinking about how each song is a face. Each set of songs, a different lens. Your family looks at stars through them, you shape them to look at other things, or be seen in certain ways. But that also has to be limiting with an audience who expects certain things from you.”
“And in Paris, there’s more space.” Vega let out a breath. “And you? What’s it like for you?”
Farran shrugged. “Different eyes. Or eyes looking for different things, I suppose. Goes well with your faces. I can appreciate each one, and the ways the foundation is the same. All these paintings, done on wood, in oils, they have things in common, but they are not the same.”
“Huh.” Vega shifted to put one leg over one of his. “Will you draw me sometime? Show me some of the faces you see?”
“Might take some time,” Farran said. “And I’m not near as talented an artist as you are, with your voice.”
“Let me judge, don’t you assume ahead of the art. Art comes in its own time, and its own form, and yours will be interesting because it’s yours.”
Farran let out a slow breath, letting himself relax on his back.
He felt that, securely, for the first time in a long while.
That things were good, that they had strong roots, that other people saw him as competent.
An excellent start to the summer, to Paris, and to whatever he and Vega did together next.