Sing Sweet Nightingale Read Online Free Page B

sing until my throat burns and my hands are shaking.
    As the echoes of my last song fade from the air, the house lights rise. Orane is standing in the center of the orchestra seats, applauding, but the warmth of his approval can’t mask the tug under my ribs, the breathlessness that hits me and gets worse with each second. Orane approaches the stage, climbing the center steps and gliding toward me with his hands outstretched.
    “Time to go already?” I ask the question, hoping the answer is no.
    Orane nods and brushes my hair behind my ear, then leans forward to kiss my cheek. “It is only a day. You will be back tomorrow night.”
    To my right, the portal opens—a doorway of glowing white light around a darkness so black it seems solid—but I ignore it, holding onto the dreamworld as long as possible.
    “Remember your promise, my sweet nightingale,” he whispers.
    Sighing, I roll my eyes. “ Every night, Orane? It’s been years. I remember.”
    Orane smiles. “Yes. Every night. Your silence is too important to take a chance. If anyone else in your world should discover this one, the consequences would be dire. The war that ravaged this land two centuries ago—”
    “Killed thousands until we closed off the borders,” I finish for him. It’s a story I know better than the history of my own world. It’s been my bedtime story for ten years. And after I almost slipped four years ago and spilled my secret to my parents, making this promise to Orane was easy. Necessary. “I would never risk your life, Orane. I know what’s at stake. Talking isn’t more important than protecting you.”
    I lift my hand to his cheek and repeat the vow I made four years ago and have fought against instinct to keep all this time. “I promise, my love. Not a word.”
    Cupping my face in his hands, he runs them through my hair and gently presses a kiss to my forehead. His lips are warm and soft, and his long hair brushes my cheek.
    “For centuries, we kept the borders closed in fear of war. And then I saw a little girl through a window I kept open. A lonely, sad little girl with a light inside brighter than the sun.” He smiles and leans down until the tips of our noses touch. “So, I broke all the rules and brought her here to teach her what I know. Little did I know that I would discover a love I never thought I might find.”
    “I got lucky.” Grinning, I lift up onto my toes and steal a quick kiss. “I only had to wait a few years.”
    Orane’s smile grows, and he gives me one last kiss, soft and sweet and pure, before I turn and step through the portal.

    I open my eyes, and my head spins. The ceiling fan doubles, then triples, before the images merge back into one. My gaze lands on the digital clock on my nightstand as it flicks to 12:01 AM. Hours spent in Orane’s world, and one minute has passed in mine.
    Clearing my throat, I wince at the rawness. A minute may be all that’s passed here, but tonight I’ve brought the ache of my hours-long concert with me. It’s usually not this bad. Years of practice have built up my stamina. Tonight, though, I challenged my range more than usual. Now, I’m paying for it. Despite the ache, I’d do it all over again for that smile on Orane’s face.
    I sneak out of my room and down the wooden stairs without making a sound. My parents probably wouldn’t care that I felt like making myself a cup of tea in the middle of the night, but I don’t want to wake them. I turn into the kitchen and nearly scream when something moves.
    My mother jumps and gasps, her hand flying to her chest and half of her glass of water splashing onto the floor.
    “Oh, Mari,” she sighs. “You scared the bejeesus out of me.”
    My pulse races, and I take a deep, slow breath to calm it down.
    “Are you okay?” She puts the glass down on the table and dries her hand off on her yellow terrycloth robe. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”
    I shake my head. I haven’t been sick in…years. I can’t