Chapter 7
Cello picketed the horses to a tree, where they could easily reach the green underbrush. Viola sat down opposite from Cadenza, closed her eyes for a moment, as if in thought, then opened them and gestured with her fingers to the ground at Cadenza’s feet. Cadenza shrieked and ducked her head beneath her arms as several large stones came hurdling out of the surrounding trees. The rocks clattered to the ground, arranging themselves into a perfect fire ring.
Viola grinned as Cadenza raised her head. “I’m an excellent earth Singer,” she boasted. “I can usually move boulders as large as a horse.”
“Ah,” Cadenza said shortly. “And Cello is a—”
“Tree Singer,” Cello answered, coming to sit next to Cadenza. She shifted away from him, uneasy with the proximity of his shoulder to hers. “I thought you could’ve guessed that,” he added with a grin.
“She’s obviously none too bright,” Viola said with a snicker.
“I don’t know,” Cadenza protested, “he could’ve been called a root Singer for all I know.”
Cello smirked. “Sorry I frightened you with that protective tree,” he said. “But we didn’t want you getting in the way.”
“Thanks,” Cadenza mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her head on her forearms and stared at the bit of ground inside the circle of stones.
A devilish gleam caught in Viola’s eyes as she concentrated on the same spot as Cadenza and traced a slow spiral with her fingers. Cadenza started as flames leapt up out of the dirt. She looked up to Viola, trying to disguise her surprise and saw that the orange fire’s reflection was flickering eerily in Viola’s eyes.
“Cello, why don’t you use your skill with trees and bring us some firewood?” Viola suggested.
Cadenza was mesmerized by the smokeless fire, which was somehow burning without any fuel beneath its flames. She looked up as Cello trudged off into the trees.
“Does it even need wood?” she asked Viola.
“It’s hard enough to keep it burning without smoke,” Viola answered, “and too hard to maintain it on my own for any amount of time.”
Cadenza nodded slowly. She had so much to learn, and for the first time, she regarded the magical abilities of the two Singers with curiosity more than fear. She stopped resisting the pull of the power, and faintly, she could sense the spell that surrounded the fire.
Cello returned, interrupting Cadenza’s musings, and dropped an armful of dry wood next to Viola. Her amber eyes eyed the pile skeptically as she began adding branches to her fire.
“We’re going to need more than that,” she said. Cello groaned and stood up, stepping to the edge of the clearing. Cadenza watched him reach a hand up to the trees. A series of loud cracks echoed through the forest and a number of dead branches fell down, showering Cello with leaves. Cadenza felt a nagging tug at her as he picked up the thick boughs.
“It was you,” she blurted out as Cello added the branches to the pile. “You made the branch break from under me!”
Cello looked slightly abashed for a moment, then nodded and sat back down next to her, a playful grin on his face.
“Yes, that was me.”
“I could have died!” Cadenza shouted, aware that her voice echoed loudly around the quiet clearing. “I could have broken my neck falling that far!” she said, gritting her teeth to keep from shouting.
Cello just gazed at her calmly, his deep green eyes boring into hers. He held her gaze despite her frantic attempts to pull away.
“Do you think I would have let that tree break your neck?” he asked solemnly, his eyes resting momentarily on the curve of her neck.
“N—no,” Cadenza said, hunching back over her knees, frustrated as a blush began to climb up her cheeks.
“Besides,” Cello continued, casting an irritated glance at Viola, who was grinning at them, “you were snooping.”
“Snooping!”
“And avoiding your mother. And I was amused to find you up in a tree, at your age.”
“I didn’t find it very amusing,” Cadenza mumbled to her shoes, “those bruises aren’t going to go away for a long time.”
“I’m sure you’d like to show him all your bruises,” Viola interrupted, “but dinner’s ready.”
Cadenza huddled over her bowl of soup, willing the other two to ignore her. Despite her fervent wishes, both pairs of eyes, forest green and glassy amber, were fixed on her as she ate.
“It’s not polite to stare.”
“Did we ever pretend to be polite?” Viola asked.
“No, you’ve been outright rude the whole time,” Cadenza said, taking a delicate sip of soup, “but perhaps Cello’s mother raised him better.”
Viola threw back her head and roared with laughter. Surprised by this reaction, Cadenza looked to Cello. His eyes met hers for a brief second, then flicked away to stare unseeingly into the dark forest.
Cadenza shifted uncomfortably, feeling trapped between the two different responses. As the last of Viola’s snorts faded, Cadenza felt sick, sure that she had made a horrible mistake, but wondering if Viola, rude as she was, could laugh heartily at something that bothered Cello so much.
“His mother,” Viola began, wiping tears from her mirth-creased eyes, “was the most famous—”
Her voice stopped short as Cello stood, towering over both young women, his face dark and his eyes flashing.
“For once,” he said rigidly, “stop your tongue before I cut it from your mouth.”
Viola looked cowed, and her eyes slid away from his. Amidst her light humor, she was not prepared to deal with so serious a response. Cadenza knew that Viola did not believe herself deserving of Cello’s anger.
“I was only going to say that she was the most famous woman in Allemande,” Viola said, irritated by Cello’s harsh scolding. “For what, I won’t say,” she added spitefully, putting all her concentration into a haughty, dignified sniff.
Unwillingly, Cadenza understood what Viola meant. Cello looked down at her briefly, and she could see that he knew she knew; she hoped with all her might that she looked confused, but whatever desperate mask she tried to cover her face with, she could not hide her shock from Cello.
He stormed away into the trees, the power of his fury sending the trees shrinking away from him. A moment later, a tall and thorny hedge sprang up between the trunks of the trees at the edge of the clearing, blocking Cadenza’s already limited view into the forest.
Viola, apparently unperturbed, refilled her bowl of soup and started eating again. Cadenza turned on her, outraged at how casually the woman treated others’ emotions.
“Whatever Cello’s mother was,” Cadenza hissed, “you have no room to despise her for it, seeing what you are yourself.”
Viola raised an eyebrow. “You,” she said, waving the soup ladle under Cadenza’s nose threateningly, “are an upstart. You have not been with us two days and already, you’re lecturing us on how we should behave.”
Cadenza fought with her anger, but was not prepared to let it go. “I wonder,” She said icily, “does anybody really love you?”
That's gotta hurt.