by Zen DiPietro
“Just so you know, I’m not interested in Jonas beyond a simple friendship, and a chance to flush out whoever is responsible for sparkle.”
He rolled onto his stomach, then pushed back onto his knees, facing her as she stood with her arms crossed. “Okay, I believe you.” He looked very contrite, but she was still annoyed with him. He should really have known better, on all counts.
“I’m sorry, Lani.” He clasped his hands together in a beseeching gesture. “Really, really sorry.”
She scowled at him.
He edged closer on his knees. “Incredibly sorry. What must I do to earn your forgiveness?”
She snorted derisively.
“How about this?” He ran to the door and opened it. He shouted into the hallway, “Élan Gray is a virtuous woman, far better than I, Sim River, deserve! If I catch anyone gossiping about her, I will make it my life’s duty to kick his or her ass, repeatedly!”
He peered over his shoulder at Élan. “How’s that?”
Several shouts of “Shut up!” and “You’re an asshole, Sim!” answered him, and he closed the door.
She smirked, then sighed. “Fine. It’s a start, at least. But I can’t believe you listened to gossip. Or that you thought we could be a couple.”
“Blame it on the brain damage caused by excessive alcohol consumption, and the fact that you’re so amazing that even guys who aren’t already in love with you really want to be in love with you.”
She shook her head, but couldn’t help the quirk of her lips that threatened to turn into an all-out smile. “Can we just go to sleep now?”
“Yes, please.” He retrieved the pillow she’d tossed at him, then fell onto the other side of the bed as she squirmed under the blanket and dropped her head to the pillow. Facing away from him.
“I really am sorry, Chief.”
“Forget about it. I’ll be sure you make it up to me.”
And she would.
The next week passed in a pleasant blur of music and friends, just like the old days. Élan took great pleasure in having Sim, Coco, and even Night joining up at Bob’s every evening. They sang, shared stories and meals, drank, and laughed long into the night and on into the morning. Most days they fell into bed around dawn.
As the days passed, she felt a growing certainty that her time of hiding needed to come to an end. Her experiences and interactions over the past months had made her feel as if she’d taken a vacation from her real life, and it was now time for her to return. She wanted to return to being herself in the world, as she’d been with Kassimeigh and Arc, and more recently with Jonas. The idea of becoming a public figure again, though, made her sick with worry.
She had formulated a plan to both take back her identity and meet Kett at the Minstrel Awards. She’d given Coco some basic details of her intentions without revealing her work for Kassimeigh. The justice had approved the plan and suggested that she might attend the gala as well. Élan hoped she would. She’d feel better knowing that Kassimeigh was there.
It had been a long time since she’d dressed for such a formal event, but she did remember how. Sanctuary had a fabulous seamstress who was more than thrilled to make Élan a special gown. No doubt she figured out on her own what the dress was for, because she refused payment for it and asked that Élan instead mention her name if anyone inquired.
When the night in question arrived, her stomach churned with apprehension. It was an unusual feeling for her. She never had jitters when she performed, and she kept telling herself this was just another performance. Except it wasn’t. She nearly talked herself out of the plan a dozen times.
She checked herself a last time in the mirror, then went down the hall and knocked on the door to Coco’s room.
“Come in!”
Élan let herself into the room and sucked in a breath when Coco turned from the mirror to face her. Coco wore a ruby-red, beaded, strapless dress that made the most of her curves. Her hair had been arranged in long black twists that reached halfway down her back. The twists were adorned with tiny sparkly something-or-others that glinted in the light. She wore an anklet on each foot and rings on every toe. The rings and anklets secured the ends of long chains that sparkled with rubies.
“Wow.” Élan felt like she was living a movie moment. Coco was breathtaking.
“Wow, yourself.” Coco stepped closer, admiring Élan.
Élan held her arms out to the sides and did a slow turn. Her own dress was a pale, icy blue. Beaded straps on her shoulders held up the simple bodice, which flared out into a gauzy, asymmetric skirt. She wore an anklet with long dangling charms on one foot. Her hair was pulled away from her face with silver combs, leaving the rest hanging long down her back. She wore a thin silver choker that matched a chain circlet that dangled a milky moonstone over her forehead.
Compared to Coco’s look, hers was incredibly simple.
“Is it too plain?”
Coco slashed her hand in a “shut up” gesture. “You look otherworldly. Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “It’s a shame you won’t work in movies. You could have your pick of roles, after tonight.”
Élan shook her head, refusing to think about anything but the present moment. “My outfit isn’t glamorous like yours.”
Coco threw her head back and laughed. “There will be a hundred women looking glamorous like me. Anyone with enough money can buy this look. But you’ll be the only one looking like a moon fairy. You can’t buy that.”
Élan was better at giving compliments than receiving them, but at least Coco approved. She trusted Coco’s opinion. “Let’s go meet Night.”
He stood waiting for them in the parlor. Rather than joining the other bards, he’d leaned up against the far wall near the bar, watching. When he saw them come down the stairs, he pushed away from the wall and straightened.
“Ladies,” he greeted them, looking them both over. “You look amazing. I’m a lucky guy to escort you both tonight. Even raindrops would be jealous.”
Élan had no idea what that meant, but she smiled and took the arm he offered. Coco took the other. Night himself looked elegant and polished, as usual. Decorative stitching along his pant legs was subtle, but stylish. Just like Night. His long black jacket hugged his shoulders nicely and swept down almost to his knees. He’d turned the lapels out, so it hung open in the front.
“You look wonderful yourself,” she told him.
He smiled and acknowledged her with a tilt of his head, but said nothing as he escorted them out of Bob’s.
Just before stepping outside, Coco and Élan slipped simple protective shoes onto their feet. They’d remove them once they arrived at the event, where the floors would be clean and smooth. Bare feet with coordinated jewelry was the fashion trend of the year for women. They walked together to the monorail station, which had the only space large enough for a gathering this big within Sanctuary.
Once inside the station’s largest hall, they proceeded through an identity scanner so that their invitation could be verified. From there, they stepped into another world. Servers swirled around the space with trays of champagne flutes, distributing them like vaccines for a plague. Beautiful people dressed in all manners of amazing laughed and glowed. Élan noticed movie makers and actors, musicians, business executives, and a few magistrates. Shivs traveled quietly through the crowd, ensuring safety.
Coco stepped away to greet a florid-cheeked man, giving him a polite peck to one side of his mouth. Élan stayed back with Night.
“You okay?” he murmured in her ear.
“So far.” Other than feeling like she needed to throw up, sure, she felt great.
“I’ll be right here the whole time.” He rested his hand on hers, which lay on his other arm. “I’m proud of you.”
The unexpected sentiment made her feel warm inside and calmed her stomach. It meant a lot to her.
“Thanks.” She saw a shiv in her peripheral vision and turned to look. Not Kassimeigh. She wondered if the justice had come.
>
A commotion behind her caused her to drop her hand from Night’s arm. They turned and she heard a collective intake of breath. Showtime.
“It’s Élan Gray.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“See if you can get an image of me with her in the background.”
“Why’s she here?”
A dozen murmuring voices talked at once, and she stepped closer to Night. He put his arm around her.
“Yes. It’s Élan,” he announced decisively. She knew he’d gone into performance mode. There was something about his demeanor that she recognized from years of working together. “She’s returned from the ether. Maybe just for this night. Maybe longer, if you’re kind enough to her. I’ll caution you against mobbing her or upsetting her in any way.”
She smiled. The people at this event were mainly industry professionals, all of whom knew him. No one wanted to piss off the number-one songwriter on the planet. Night didn’t take crap from anyone.
The group, which had been advancing, took a step back.
“It’s good to see you,” a man called. Élan had no idea who he was.
“Thank you.” Her own performance persona kicked in and she took a breath as a welcome shot of adrenaline ran through her. “It’s lovely to be here at this gorgeous event. You all know how to throw a party.” As she’d intended, a laugh rippled through the growing crowd. Probably thirty people now gawked at her as politely as they could manage.
“I’m pleased to be here to support my good friend Coco on her Best Singer nomination.” Coco’s nomination gave Élan the perfect reason for her to be here. Attending to celebrate Coco also threw some fame back at someone who actually enjoyed it. Élan’s show of loyalty would only help Coco’s career.
“I look forward to chatting with you all during the cocktails portion of the evening,” she added. She didn’t, but the truth wouldn’t be the right thing to say at the moment. She wanted to depart gracefully before a bigger crowd gathered.
She took Night’s arm again and he briskly led her away, as though she had somewhere terribly important to go. For all those people knew, she did.
Night played his part brilliantly. As he led her through the crowd, Élan saw people noticing and recognizing her, then murmuring energetically to the people next to them. Night swept her to the back of the main ballroom, then down a hallway. He took several quick turns, then brushed his hand over a security scanner.
He opened the door for her and she went inside. He followed, touching a panel that instantly flooded the room with light. She noted a narrow couch, a chair, and a large mirror in front of a table and bench. Apparently this was a dressing room.
She sat on the couch and let out a long breath. “Thanks.”
“Thought it might be getting too close for you in there.”
“It was.”
He poured a glass of water from a pitcher and offered it to her. “Hard part’s done. People know you’re alive. They know you’re here. Give it ten minutes and everyone here will be informed. Give it twenty and everyone on Terath will get word of it.”
She looked down at her anklet. “Yeah.”
“It’ll turn out better than you think.”
“Says the guy who writes all the songs that other people sing so he doesn’t have to be famous.” That wasn’t strictly true, but close enough.
To her surprise, he laughed. “There’s that. But I’m right here with you. Do you think my name isn’t attached to yours right now as it flies around the comm? Along with pictures and all of my available biography?”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. He obviously had, and he’d done this with her anyway.
He took a step and joined her on the couch. It was a small dressing room. Five steps would take a person from one end to the other. Maybe six for her. Four for Night.
“Why would you put yourself out there like that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “For you. You’re doing something that’s important. I don’t know what, but you wouldn’t give up your anonymity for nothing. The least I can do is help you.”
She turned and gave him a gentle hug, careful not to muss their outfits or her hair. “The thing I’m doing is important. But I think I could have done it without revealing myself. I decided it was time. I’m tired of covering up and not using my name. Tired of worrying about being noticed. You and Coco have both hinted that I should go public, and you aren’t the only ones. Also . . . I met someone recently who had to accept and deal with some big stuff. Things she didn’t ask for. It was a lot more than unwanted fame, and so far as I know, she never complained once about it. Makes my fame-phobia seem awfully trivial.”
“The rain chases the flower, then.”
Whatever that meant. Up until that point, it had probably been the longest conversation she’d ever had with him that actually made complete, straightforward sense. It had been lovely while it lasted.
“I guess. And if it goes poorly, I’ll just hide in Bob’s for the rest of my life. It will be your job to bring me donuts and chocolate.”
“Sounds like a good job to me.”
She took a sip of water, then set the glass on the dressing table. “So now we wait?”
“Yup.”
“We’ll go in when the awards start?” she guessed.
“Right.”
“And what happens after?”
“Hopefully we get to celebrate Coco’s win with her. Other than that, don’t know. You’re the one that knows the thing you need to do.” He gave her an expectant look.
Right. Jonas and Kett. She wondered where they were and whether she should try to find them. But no, she needed Coco to be the intermediary. It would have to wait until after the awards.
Talking to Night made her feel stronger. If anyone started up the nonsense she’d faced in the past, she’d kick some ass. Teach them they couldn’t treat her that way. She felt steel run down her spine and sat up straighter. She lifted her chin.
“There she is.” Night nodded approvingly.
A knock sounded on the door. “That will be our usher.” Night stood and paused, waiting for her to go to the door first. “Ready?”
“Damn straight, as Sim would say.”
She opened the door.
She followed the usher down the aisle with Night right behind her. She ignored the excited murmurs. The pointed fingers. The spotlight that seemed to shine in her face. She was in performance mode. She projected calm serenity like Kassimeigh would. She was surprised when the usher seated them front and center, where only the most important people sat. She thanked the usher and sat down as though of course this was her seat.
Night sat to her left and a moment later, an usher led Coco to sit on Élan’s right. Coco raised a curious eyebrow at Élan, who shrugged.
The event’s host stood, delivered a speech about the prestige of the Minstrel Awards and their long history, blah, blah, blah. He made a banal joke or two and the audience returned just the right amount of laughter. Lights shone, jewels sparkled, and ushers continued to serve champagne to the ever-so-important guests. Élan waved away a flute of the bubbly. She’d have some later, after all this was over.
Best music video. Best song. Best movie theme. Best new artist. Best percussionist. Best producer. Best ensemble. Though there were many awards, they were presented in a relatively brisk parade of acknowledgement, with a musical performance sprinkled in here and there. Finally, the award for best vocalist came along. It was the last of the evening, and Élan was glad.
“Good luck,” she whispered to Coco.
“Thanks,” Coco whispered back. “Honestly I don’t really care. I already have everything I need, including a few of these awards.” She reconsidered. “Though winning is always nice.”
They laughed softly together as the host announced the nominees. A dramatic pause stretched out for several seconds.
“And the winner is . . . Coco Rose!”
Once again, cheers and applause filled the room. C
oco hugged Élan, stood, and swept up the curving steps to join the host on the stage. He handed her a projection statuette and congratulated her.
Coco delivered a short thank-you, which included acknowledgements of her producer, agent, and a few people whose names Élan didn’t know. Coco glided back to her seat, and the host took the stage to wrap up the ceremony.
“The panel of the Minstrel Awards thanks you all for attending. This event couldn’t happen without all of you. Congratulations to all the winners, all the nominees, and all the artists still struggling without recognition.” He paused.
“I’d be remiss if I didn’t recognize a very special guest tonight,” he continued.
Uh-oh.
“Every now and then, a superstar emerges. A performer with tremendous talent and a special something that just catapults them to fame. That’s what we’re here to celebrate, after all. We’re lucky enough to be joined by just such a star tonight. This artist took the world by storm several years ago, and we’ve never been the same since. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Élan Gray!”
Thunderous applause rang out. Cheering.
“He’s waiting for you to come up there,” Coco hissed in her ear.
Of course he was.
She unclenched her jaw. Smiling, she stood, waved to the crowd, and then sauntered up the stairs to join the host on the stage. She turned and looked out at the assembly. She beamed, as if she could not be happier.
“Thank you. It’s wonderful to be back,” she lied.
“Where have you been all this time?” the host asked.
She let out a light laugh. “Up a tree, writing my next song.” She grinned, as though it were a huge joke instead of, essentially, the truth.
The audience laughed.
“It must be a very long opus!” he teased.
“Oh, yes. And that’s just the opening stanza.” She chuckled again, and the audience laughed with her.
“Well, wherever you’ve been, thank you so much for joining us tonight. Since we have you here, it seems like we’d be missing a huge opportunity if we didn’t ask you for a song.” He turned to the audience. “What do you all say?”
