The hall was completely dark until, after a few moments, a spotlight beamed onto the orchestra, illuminating a grey-haired conductor. He bowed, and the audience roared with applause. Then, turning to face the orchestra, he raised his hands. With a flick of his wrist, the musicians were off.

As the first notes sounded through the hall, an enormous gold curtain lifted to reveal the set. She’d been expecting something opulent, but saw instead a stage set with a shabby room—a hovel, as Kester would call it.

But the music itself was as lush as the theater, and the violins and trumpets washing over Ursula in a glorious wave. As the music swelled, she leaned forward in her seat. A man with dark hair walked to the center of the stage and began to sing in a rich baritone, full of passion. Another man strode onto the stage, joining him in a clear tenor voice. If only I knew what they were singing about.

By their costumes, she could tell the characters were poor, but the way they sang to each other suggested warmth between them. As the music flowed around her, she thought of Katie, and how they’d spent their weekends exploring London’s forgotten canals, too broke to do anything else. She’d been happy enough then, right? Perhaps, in her isolation, she was romanticizing, but at least she hadn’t had a bounty on her head and a goddess of hellfire who wanted to torture her to death. And, moreover, at least she’d had Katie. Right now, her loneliness threatened to swallow her whole.

On the stage, the tenor was joined by a young woman, wrapped in a woolen shawl and rubbing her arms as he serenaded her. Amore. That was a word she recognized: love. The tenor’s emotional outpouring held no artifice, no silk or steel—he simply bared his soul. The music built, and Ursula nearly forgot to breathe, her chest aching.

As the aria reached its climax, she couldn’t help but imagine someone looking at her the way the tenor looked at his beloved. For just a second, she closed her eyes, and an image rose from the back of her mind—a painfully beautiful man with star-flecked eyes, deep and dark as the night sky.

With a jolt, she realized exactly who she was picturing—the injured demon who lay asleep in her apartment.

What the hell?

Chapter 22

Unnerved she glanced around, exhaling slowly as she caught a glimpse of Zee slipping into the row, dressed in a crimson gown. About time she showed up.

As Zee took her seat, she studied Ursula with an expression that fell somewhere between annoyance and concern. “Are you having another bad day?”