Symphony for a Deadly Throne (Mousai, #3)

by E.J. Mellow

She had a moment to marvel at how far she had come. How much she had survived.

too often memories were reshaped to be bittersweet.

Take in the last balls of light that desperately held on to this side of history.

Tomorrow, if she survived, she would be his king. She would be holding her biggest achievement but have lost her greatest love.

If only that was how their story could have been written.

Perhaps this was another of her sacrifices. To settle for becoming a mistress over a wife.

Arabessa’s entire life came down to tonight. This one sand fall.

Disappointing. Disappointing. Disappointing. What she could not bear to become.

Here sat the current king, soon to be the old king, waiting to crown the new king. Her father was to be witness to whether his eldest daughter lived or died.

prepared to write her own fate and claim a throne.

“There is much you do not know.” “Always so charming,”

“I didn’t realize we’d be walking so long in nightmare alley,”

“these used to be people.” He gestured in the general direction of the bugs.

“What happened to them?”

“They got on our nerves,”

Though he looked put together, he felt anything but.

They followed the rules of this world only for as long as it suited.

“Why didn’t we know it had these?” “You don’t have to know everything, child,”

“You knew about these observing rooms?” “Did I not just say I did?” “

She was not dressed as a thief. She was dressed for a fight. But why?

There was the familiar singing of metal being pulled, his sword unsheathing.

all Arabessa did in return was unstrap her violin and begin to play.

Claim a life to claim the crown: indeed, proof of one’s ambition to be this kingdom’s ruler.

Her killing innocents during her performance had been negligent, wrong. Her attempting to take this man’s life tonight was necessary.

her advantage lay in the fact that he could release only a single point of attack from his blade.

a relieved breath escaping her before she howled in agony.

I’m going to die. The poisonous words slithered fast through her mind.

She was filled with anguish for her father, sorrow for herself.

The benefit of her simplified flute was that she could move easier with it while playing.

The throne was testing her ambition, but what would push her to win was her dedication. No one else’

They were full of rage and exhaustion, no doubt a reflection of her own.

He merely kept his gaze pinned to Arabessa’s as he whispered, “My king,”

Everything inside Arabessa stopped. Her heart. Her breaths. Her magic. Frozen.

hazel eyes pained as they took her in.

Arabessa did not want to ask what must be done.

This Zimri looked at her with his love, his reverie, his wonder.

A monster is needed to kill monsters, just as one is needed to control them.

I finally had a chance for something of my own. I had to take it, Zimri.”

You taught me that, my music, how to burn brightest for that which you love.

“Taking away my memory of ever loving you.”

Here sat her father wearing his crown, making his daily sacrifice. He watched his daughter suffer and was unable to save her.

Alone. She was utterly alone. This was her test. Her final stone to step upon to make it to the end. Her end. Their end.

She was a soul desperate for her soul mate.

No longer his love, his lover, his music. An impossible life.

“I don’t know how to be a sister to you.”

Death felt like a mercy in this moment.

But logic and responsibility had always been her compass forward.

He might love her, but he would never again be in love with her.

This was her choice. Not Zimri’

She had robbed him of his changing desires, his autonomy for his own life and wants.