Page 131 of Ashborne Forged

If I was going to do this, every note must be a choice, and every choice intentional. I couldn’t afford to let anyone move me.

‘Kham?’

‘I’m here. I’d like to hear you play—but only if you choose to show me.’

I took a deep breath and almost smiled.

Yes.

I could play for my dragon.

With a rush of relief, and a little bit of excitement, I pressed the ball of my foot down on the pedal, then let both hands drift across the keys, playing a tinkling scale of sorts, building each chord a single note at a time, enjoying it, before moving to the next.

It was a careful, intrepid exploration. A hesitant adventure, at first.

But as the notes began to blend and rise, as my body remembered, and my ears perked, I began to play. And something in my chest soared.

High, tinkling treble notes.

Low, booming bass notes.

The melodious dance in the middle.

I remembered the day Kham found me, broken, and on the verge of destroying myself, the raw power in him soothing the raw self-hatred in me, because I could cling and no longer be responsible.

He would choose. He would judge. He would determine if any good remained.

And he did.

I thought of flying on Kham, and the breathless thrill of the very first time I’d ridden him in a clear mind. I remembered victories, and new strengths.

I remembered being pinned as a Furyknight.

Then later, sworn-in as a Shadowfang.

I painted the sky in blue, purple, and pink, and gilded the clouds in gold. I played the praises of the green, green grass, and soft rustle of the forest leaves.

I played the dark, and the moon, and the echoing chambers of a foreign castle.

I played the softness of a woman’s body—then faltered, because it was the wrong one. The first one. Not the precious one.

My heart pounded. My breath came too quickly. I stared—

“Why did you stop?”

I couldn’t tell her. So I closed my eyes, and shifted everything.

The first time I saw Grace smile.

The curve of her neck where it met her shoulder.

The simple, sweet dignity of the way she raised her chin.

The mischievous grin when she felt clever.

Her hair, braided not quite right, and tendrils fluttering to tease at her cheeks and my collarbones.

The room around me faded. I forgot where I was. Because I flew with Grace sitting before me, her back to my chest, and her laughter ringing in the wind…