Midnight Cove
Music and Moonlight

Sleep evaded me the first night in that magical kingdom. I laid there, brutally awake, as I spent the night alone in Phoenix’s extravagant bed chambers. Lying in that enormous bed dressed with silken sheets, the same iridescent creamy color as the wallpaper that lined the sitting room walls, I couldn’t help but think about the countless number of women he probably brought there.

I glanced around and noted the obsidian rock face walls with their smooth, glassy appearance. This seemed to be the same as in other parts of the palace, but in this private closed off bedroom they took on a sexier feel. It reminded me of the feeling of danger I felt the first time I met Phoenix. It was sexy, dangerous, lustful.

The dark walls seemed to encroach upon the large bed that I lay on, the look and feel of a safe beacon of light in the midst of a dark night. It was intimidating to say the least and yet it was so welcoming. I couldn't help but sink into the plush feathery pillows with a reluctant gratefulness. They were so delicate on my skin and smelled deeply of lilies. I thought of Phoenix and the way his hands had griped me on the balcony, his soft lips as they had whispered gently against my ear, how he smelled with a sweet mixture of musk and lilies. I thought about him in this bed alone ....or, perhaps not?

How many women? How many? My mind ran circles. A hundred? A thousand? How old is he? A hundred thousand? How many lovers can a man have when he's attractive, royal, and immortal? I tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter, but I couldn’t ignore the knot I felt in the pit of my stomach. How different I could feel about Phoenix in such a short time.

Joy often replaces me when I am not seeking it. As convoluted as that sounds, it really isn’t. I am always searching for happiness and yet it seems only to materialize when I shift my focus. My focus was now on Phoenix and all the glory and the magick that the Underworld held. Tired, but unable to sleep and agitated with my thoughts ping ponging between Phoenix and Cove, and the unknown Faerie females that might hold their hearts, I decided to get up. I'd had enough.

I donned the pink satin robe that matched my nightgown. One of the servants had left it for me along with a soft fuzzy towel and a pair of slippers. I disregarded the towel and the rest of the pile of delicate garments that lied on the bench at the foot of the bed and made my way across the wide expanse of the room.

With the idea of fresh air on the balcony in mind, I turned the bedroom door knob, and that was when I heard the soft tinkling of piano keys. Someone was playing a delicate melancholy tune and I paused in the doorway to listen. At first, the melody was very sad, almost depressing but the longer I stood there and listened the more I realized that the undertone of the song was uplifting and I was unable to stop my footsteps as I floated towards the titillating sound.

The song ended, but I still wanted to hear more. To my relief the music started up again, the notes beginning to soar through the air. This song, still melancholy like the last, but it felt more like a longing.

Leaving my bedroom quarters behind, I walked quietly down the spiral staircase following the sound. I crossed the foyer to the sitting room with the large french doors that opened onto the balcony. There wasn’t anyone there so I kept going, heading underneath another archway and into the adjacent room.

It appeared as though I had walked into a study or a library, I couldn’t tell which. Another room without the black obsidian that began to almost feel commonplace. The wood panelled walls were encased with books. On one wall was an immense fireplace made completely of river rocks. Each side of the hearth was framed by massive windows that easily reached to a height of twenty feet.

I looked around, but I couldn’t see where the music was coming from. I almost gave up. I could still hear the melody, but I could not ascertain from where it was coming. I ran my finger across the red fabric of a high back chair and headed for the farthest wall of books. In the corner of the room, well hidden from sight, was a black door left ajar. I could hear the music growing louder as I approached. It was coming from the other side of that door.

I stood still for a moment, debating whether I should interrupt whomever was playing that heartbreaking concerto. My curiosity got the best of me as usual, and I carefully pushed open the door. The room was round with high polished dark wooden floors and bare rock walls. It was the first room I had seen that had rock walls that were not made of the obsidian black that covered the rest of the castle. There were lights recessed into the floors and an open beam ceiling. Besides the electricity the rest of the room looked to be the oldest structure I had yet seen.

The only piece of furniture in the entire room was a rosewood grand piano. It was a Steinway piano, I could tell just by looking at it. It was breathtaking and I would not doubt that it was priceless and probably vintage. These faeries with their immortality coming into play, who knew? Maybe they had Steinway make the piece himself, I was learning fast not to put anything past the capabilities of faeries.

The only thing more gorgeous than that instrument was the man wielding it. He looked just as perfect and just as ageless. I stood there a minute longer listening to Phoenix play his forlorn melody, watching his fingers dance across the ivory keys. He was lost in the music, the notes flowing creatively through him. His song raced on peaking and then softly coming to a close. My breath hitched in my throat, betraying me. His fingers immediately stopped, his eyes opening, shocked to see I had snuck up on him. I assumed it was no easy feat to do that. He had told me plenty of times it was easier for him to read me than other humans for some reason. I had yet to figure that out.

“Please,” I begged taking a step closer into the room, “Don’t stop. You play beautifully.”

“I don’t play for anyone.” Phoenix said flatly. He wasn’t angry with me for the intrusion, but he didn’t want to continue either. The news of him refusing to play was more heartbreaking than listening to his song.

“But why? You’re so talented,” I wanted to pursue the matter. I was desperate to understand his logic. I couldn’t understand someone with that amount of talent not wanting to show off, especially Phoenix. He was always acting the overly confident, cocky show off. He was just as bad, or worse even, than his brother.

“It’s personal.” He was being very tight lipped about the whole thing. Not a single detail as to why. For what reason could he possibly have for not wanting to share such a wonderful gift?

“Please, Phoenix,” I pleaded. “Play for me?” I looked at him in earnest, hoping with all my heart that I could again listen to his beautiful song.

I didn’t quite understand why I cared so much. I felt so sad inside and listening to his music was like listening to the sound of my soul. He may not have understood the heartbreak I was feeling over his brother, but his music played the tune that expressed my unspoken emotions. My familiar feeling of abandonment was accompanied by humiliation because of the whole affair. That’s exactly what it was too. If Cove had a wife, I was the other woman, he had had an affair with me. The idea of being one of those females made me sick. I was filled with nothing but shame and contempt.

Phoenix looked at me determining whatever he was determining, then without a word and only a small sigh he turned his attention back to the extravagant instrument. As soon as his fingers brushed against those keys it was like my heart leapt in my chest. The striking chords reverberated throughout my being. I stood there with tear filled eyes and a deep love, for the sound was saying what I could not. All of the gut wrenching pain Cove had inflicted on me with his lies, it was in those chords, and all of my confusion and longing and excitement that I felt over Phoenix was there too. I was so lost in my own world of thought that I hadn’t noticed he had stopped playing. I looked over at him and he beckoned me to come sit with him on the bench. I readily obliged.

Phoenix’s playing softened to a light background noise as he began to speak. “Tell me, Bonnie,” he paused but only in his speech, his hands kept on thrumming out more lovely tunes. He wanted to ask me something but at the last minute appeared to have changed his mind. “Did I wake you?”

I shook my head gently, “No.” The word came out in a murmur. My voice was even softer than usual and I couldn’t have made myself louder if I tried. “Are you upset with me for invading your privacy?” I was being timid. I couldn’t help it, I was fearful he would say 'yes.'

“No,” Phoenix said gently, “I don’t know why but I feel comfortable with you around. I’ve never played for anyone else.” His diffidence took me by surprise. It was by far the most flattering thing he had ever said to me.

I looked at him then and gave a shy smile. “Thank you,” I said, “for everything.”

“You are most welcome.” He smiled back.

He didn’t need me to explain about the escape from my life, or for the magical night. He didn’t have to be told that I had to be shown what a liar Cove was and how the Underground Realm was really a fantasy come to life. Phoenix didn’t need me to say anything, because he knew what I needed and unlike his brother it wasn’t something physical, it was something intangible.

I needed to be adored, to be shown that I was special and Phoenix had done just that. There was no fast flight on silken wings, there was no shrinking or dancing. There was just music. Music and moonlight.