He paused, leaning against the mantel, considering, trying to imagine how he might feel in her place. He’d been volatile. Would he have wanted to further incense someone already burning with so much anger by telling him something he didn’t want to hear? He’d put her in an impossible position. And truly, as caught up in his own fantasy as he was, he’d found it inconceivable she’d want anything less than a much deeper relationship with him.
He shook his head like a horse with a fly in its ear. Deluded by his own desires he’d built castles of moonbeams. He’d mistaken her concern for their friendship and readiness to forgive him as something more. He laughed harshly and threw another stick onto the fire. Here he was once more caught up in his own little world around which everyone else revolved. How self-centered could he be? For all he knew, there was someone else in her life now, someone he had not heard about.
As he thought about it, another man in Karigan’s life made perfect sense. He’d been stupid not to see it, not to even think of it. She wanted to stay friends with him, but feared telling him the full truth would anger him. Especially because it involved another man. Who was she in love with? One of their fellow Riders? A merchant? Who?
He stood there stock still waiting for the eruption of his own fury, but to his surprise, it did not come as it would have in the past. It just wasn’t in him now. Maybe after all this time he was finally healing from the venomous influence of Blackveil.
A tinge of jealousy did burn inside, but it was subdued. He was more saddened by the loss of what could have been between him and Karigan for he had envisioned it well and in detail. Above all else, however, he was amazed to discover he was ... relieved? Yes, relieved and free. Karigan did not want him the way he had wanted her to want him, and maybe he no longer wanted her that way either.
The revelation set him free. And he liked it.
He had a good notion of how he would use that freedom. The sizzle and pop of the hearthfire became music, the strumming of a lute, perhaps, and in the blaze he saw her face. Not Karigan’s, but Estral Andovian’s. She stirred something deeper in him than Karigan ever had.
But how free was he to pursue Karigan’s friend—her best friend?—a most sacred bond. He groaned thinking that his interference could be like opening a picnic basket of vipers.
He didn’t want to turn Estral against him by seeming to wrong Karigan, yet Karigan had made her decision, unvoiced as it might be. Somehow he’d have to work around her. Karigan, after all, was not here. She was not here to be hurt, nor had she made any effort to lay claim to him. He was free to do as he wished and so was she. There should be no reason for him to feel guilty about moving on, and one couldn’t help to whom one was attracted. Still, he’d have to go carefully. He’d—
“Hello.”
Alton jumped, heart pounding. Standing there in the chamber with him just a few paces away was not Merdigen or any of the other tower mages, not even Dale. No, it was Estral Andovian clutching a blanket.
ESTRAL’S HARMONY
“What?” Alton rubbed his eyes as if confronted with a specter.
“Hello,” Estral repeated. “And I thought I was the one hard of hearing.” She gave him that wry smile of hers, but it was not as confident as usual. It was questioning, as if she was uncertain of her reception.
“How?” he demanded. “How did you get in here?”
“I sang to the guardians. They liked it and let me through.”
She’d said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Alton felt off-kilter and grabbed the mantel to steady himself. “You . . . you sang to the guardians? And they let you through?”
Her smile faded. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”
“No! No . . .” He laughed. “You were right yesterday.”
“I was? About what?” Now she gazed at him with a suspicious glint in her eye.
“About music being magical. But I expect not everyone can make it magical. Not the way you can.”
The smile returned to Estral’s lips.
Alton smiled back. “What made you try?”
“My music helped you and Dale enter Tower of the Earth, so I thought I’d try it here on Tower of the Heavens for myself.” She gazed about the tower chamber. “I must admit, I was curious.”
Alton was vaguely disappointed by the answer. “You brought a blanket.”
“I thought you might need it, but I see you have a fire going.”
“Yes, but a blanket is most welcome. Thank you.”
She passed it to him and backed away. “I guess I should go now.”
“No, wait! I mean, you said you were curious. Wouldn’t you at least like a tour of the tower? What’s left of it anyway.” He glanced upward where he could see the stars through the hole in the roof.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
He led her around the circumference of the tower, showing her the sink that magically flowed with water when you waved your hand under a bronze fish’s mouth. He took her beneath the east archway that ended a short distance away at a solid rock wall. The wall. Around they went, stepping over rubble, he explaining how the wall almost went mad and collapsed, taking the tower and Dale and himself with it.
“They lost harmony, the guardians,” he said. “They are strong when they sing as one, but when they lost harmony and rhythm everything almost came to ruin.”
“Further evidence,” Estral said, “of the magic of music.” They exchanged smiles.