A drum. She didn’t seem exactly adept with it as she tried to find the best place for it. But she was clearly waiting for Violetta to finish.

Quiet applause after the first, somber song ended. Violetta bowed and then glanced at Seraphel. She tried to remember the name of their song as she stuttered out loud.

“Next is—next is, um—”

Violetta’s face went white. It was Cara who stood up. She did not bow. Grishen’s eyes narrowed.

“My name is Cara O’Sullivan. I’m pleased to perform with her a new song from my home. It is not traditional to Noelictus, but I hope you will enjoy it, Your Highness.”

Across the banquet hall, Seraphel’s eyes slowly narrowed as Cara met her eyes once more.

——

The young woman focused on Seraphel, and the [Princess] smiled like a viper.

Well, this is hardly boring at all.

Seraphel inclined her head, her eyes glittering. She felt an actual smile on her face. The kind of smile she used to give Lyonette or her other sisters right before they sat on something unpleasant.

She didn’t know what this young woman’s problem was, but if she didn’t like this song, she would, very eloquently and royally, lay down a few verses of her own.

Not too harshly, of course; the young woman next to this Cara seemed ready to burst into tears, but a bit of humiliation wouldn’t go amiss. Otherwise—it had better be a very good song. So she nodded graciously, like her chin was the [Headman]’s axe about to descend.

“I should be delighted to hear it, Miss O’Sullivan. Pray, proceed.”

——

The [Princess] lifted a hand. And saw Culin and Sasi bouncing in their seats. The [Singer] nodded and sat down. Violetta looked at her. Cara nodded. And then Cara touched the drum. She murmured something.

“—er Illusion].”

And the little standing drum changed. It turned from the carved, wooden upright drum with the stretched animal hide into…something else.

A different kind of drum. Rounded, sitting in front of Cara. And—instead of playing on it, she was tapping on some kind of foot-pedal which swung a little mallet into the drum.

Seraphel du Marquin sat up as a fast beat began to echo throughout the hall. Lord Lantal blinked. Risel leaned forwards as Grishen grunted in surprise.

Violetta put her bow to the strings of her cello and began to play. Faster, brighter than any other tune Idelt had heard in a long time. The music came from her and Cara’s illusory drum. And then—something else.

A piano’s keys. Cara was sweating as she played on the drum and called each note from the spell. But she knew this song. It was not for Seraphel. It was for Culin. For Sasi.

For Afiele and Violetta and the death of dark, miserable days. She opened her mouth and began to sing.

The heads across the hall rose as Cara closed her eyes. Every eye fixed on her. The words said one thing—but it wasn’t a sad song. And then—Violetta took a shuddering breath, and she began singing.