Page 40 of The Searching Songbird

“She is something.” Something I'd prefer to never sit through again, if possible.

“She's my daughter, Hannah,” the older man continued, oblivious to the flatness of Draven's reply. “Been practicing for months. It's always been a dream of hers to perform here, you know.”

How could he possibly know that?

“If the judges have any sense between them, they'll put her on the bill.” The older man grunted, tapping his cane on the floor with a resounding thud. “Though, I'm not sure they do. They passed her over the last four times she auditioned. Idiots.”

“Who are they, anyway?” Draven gestured toward the judges table. “The idiots, I mean.”

The man chuckled, slapping a shaky hand against Draven's back. “You're alright, boy.” He pointed down at the man on the far left, who was currently leaning back in his chair with his legs resting on the table. “That one there is Milford Green, the stage director.” He shifted his finger toward the man sitting in the middle seat. The opposite of the first man, he sat up straight as a pole as he waited for the next act. “That's Preston Moore, the music director. Thinks he's the ultimate authority on everything musical, but he's really just a pompous windbag with a perpetual stick up his ass.”

Draven choked on a laugh, and the man grinned. “And then there's the lady on the end, Tabitha Rose.” He let out a dreamy sigh that turned into a wheeze. After fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket, he dabbed at his forehead. “Hotter than blazes up here,” he muttered, shoving the fabric scrap back into his jacket pocket and clearing his throat. “Tabitha is the costume director. A rare woman of refinement and taste in this crazy city.”

“Is she not an idiot, as well, then?” Draven teased.

“She's no idiot. It's those other two dunderheads that wouldn't recognize true talent if it slapped them in the face. Selections have to be unanimous, though,” the man grumbled. He waved a dismissive hand in their direction. “Damned lack wits.”

Draven gave him a sympathetic smile, all the while wondering if their information regarding the baron had been wrong. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the theater, and if he wasn't one of the judges...

He opened his mouth to ask the man about him, but the sight of Lily walking onto stage had all of his thoughts flying out of his head as he took her in. Bloody hell. She hadn't even sung a single note, and she already held him transfixed. How did such a small wisp of a woman have so much presence? She exuded confidence from her entire being.

She was absolutely amazing.

She said something to the pianist that made the young man grin and nod. Draven dug his fingers into the railing as his stomach clenched with jealousy. It was irrational, he knew, and yet – damn, if he didn't want to drive his fist into the man's smug, little face.

She didn't allow him to linger in his dark thoughts for long, however, for shortly after the first few notes were struck, her voice filled the auditorium with a husky contralto that sent his heart racing the moment it wrapped around him.

It was slow and sultry, the song of a siren luring sailors to their happy deaths. His grip on the railing tightened even further as he fought the insane urge to leap off the balcony and storm the stage, sweeping her into his arms and taking her right there.

“Draven.”

He started, swallowing a string of curses better suited to a dockside pub than an upscale theater. Squeezing his eyes shut, he attempted to find a semblance of calm despite the shock of hearing his name spoken in those deep, hypnotic tones, for there was only one man he knew who possessed that kind of silver-tongued cunning. And he really didn't want to find that man standing behind him now.

He was bound to show up sooner or later.

He'd just been hoping it would be more on the later side. Shuttering his features, he turned to face the man who'd once enacted as his savior. The man who would have him betray Lily's trust for reasons unknown. He met the man's penetrating gaze, those silvery-blue eyes that could read the truth of a situation without even blinking a lash, and nodded.

“Boss.”

Chapter Twenty

“Here we are. If you'll just wait here, you can go on right after Miss Pennyworth.” The loquacious woman who'd led Lily backstage gave her a look as she dropped her voice. “Have a care for your hearing. Miss Pennyworth is rather famous for bursting eardrums around here. The poor dear has already auditioned four other times.” She shook her head and sighed. “I suspect we'd all be grateful if the woman would simply give-up already. But, never mind that. I need to run out and inform the judges of your last minute entry.”

She was gone as quickly as she'd appeared, leaving Lily to stare after her with wide eyes. Well. That was... She blinked. I'm not sure what that was. Convenient, I suppose, seeing as how I'll have a clear view of the judges and be able to see if anyone else is hanging around backstage. Draven can check out the rest.

Her heart fluttered as she recalled the embrace the woman had found them in. Her arrival may have been convenient, but Lily couldn't help the niggling trace of annoyance at being interrupted. Although, to be fair, they had been right in the middle of the doorway. Hardly the ideal location for stolen moments.

But, ooooh, what a moment it had been. Never, in all her years, had she ever felt so alive. This, this was what the musicians wrote songs about. Songs that she'd merely been singing prior to meeting Draven. Now, she was living them. And it felt absolutely amazing.

The grating sound of a cat being strangled drew her mercilessly from her blissful musings. What in the world are they doing to that poor thing? She stole over to the wing and peeked out onto the stage. When she spied the violet clad lady who was attempting to shatter the exquisite, stained glass windows by the sheer volume of her voice alone, she blanched.

It wouldn't be so bad if she were actually hitting the correct notes. Cringing, she shrank back out of sight and attempted to block the offending noise out. She's certainly enthusiastic, anyway. You have to give her that.

At long last – five minutes, but it felt like an eternity – the woman finally sang the final notes of her aria. Bustling off the stage, the woman gave Lily a shy smile as she passed, her eyes lit with a hopeful glow. Lily immediately felt ashamed for her poor opinion of the woman's singing. Such a determined and brave woman surely deserved better.

“You're up, dear.”

The pink-haired woman from earlier appeared at Lily's elbow. “Just tell Thomas what you'd like to sing. He knows just about everything.”