Step into a world where love, resilience, and transformation shine through lyrical storytelling and immersive magic. This collection brings high and low fantasy, near-futuristic romance, and magical realism together with the unique addition of original music and poetry, accessible through QR codes, enriching the emotional depth of some stories.
With a diverse cast of charactersâfrom musicians and poets to everyday seekersâthese stories celebrate the courage to embrace roots, adapt to new worlds, and experience love in all its forms. Each tale is a reminder that, even in our darkest moments, beauty and healing are waiting for us on the horizon.
Let this collection inspire you with the power of love, healing, creativity, and connection.
Step into a world where love, resilience, and transformation shine through lyrical storytelling and immersive magic. This collection brings high and low fantasy, near-futuristic romance, and magical realism together with the unique addition of original music and poetry, accessible through QR codes, enriching the emotional depth of some stories.
With a diverse cast of charactersâfrom musicians and poets to everyday seekersâthese stories celebrate the courage to embrace roots, adapt to new worlds, and experience love in all its forms. Each tale is a reminder that, even in our darkest moments, beauty and healing are waiting for us on the horizon.
Let this collection inspire you with the power of love, healing, creativity, and connection.
The spaces between the notes could be eloquent, like the words he chose not to say.
Yet she could feel them there, hanging unspoken in the air.
Esara glanced over her shoulder before slipping back into the concert hall. How much time did she have? With post-recital celebrations in full swing in the conservatory courtyard, it should be some time before her governess noticed she was missing.
Taking advantage of the small crowd, Esara had ordered first one and then the other of her personal guard to oversee the return of her harp back home. Now for a brief respite.
Heart fluttering, she eased the door shut behind her. On the stage sat her childhood friend Skylar, lost in his own world. Beside him on the piano bench lay her stole. Finer than any silk, the off-world cotton shimmered, cream-coloured sequins glittering under the stage lights.
So, he had picked it up but so discreetly no one had noticed. She almost stamped her foot in frustration. Why had he hidden it earlier? Did he not want her to make that public declaration?
Holding up the hem of her gown, she made her way down the centre aisle. How close did she have to get before he knew it was her? This question she had asked herself ever since his sight began to fail, it worried her more and more.
As she climbed the steps to the stage, he segued to one of their childhood tunes, a lullaby dear to her. Twenty paces. Her heart eased a little.
She passed the spot where her harp had stood, and leaned against the piano, allowing her gaze to linger over Skylarâs face. When would she get another chance to be alone with him?
He turned towards her and raised a brow. The urge to lean forward and brush back his hair was so strong she had to clasp her hands together. How could she stay angry at him?
But first, the critique; she relied on him for an objective appraisal. âHow was my phrasing?â
His rare smile warmed her. âRelaxed. Natural.â
She let out a breath. Jittery before the recital, sheâd calmed as soon as he started playing the accompaniment. At one point, the audience had seemed to disappear, as if the two of them were unobserved, free to delight in each otherâs presence, and to drift together upon the ebb and flow of the melody.
She glanced at the door before turning back to him. âWhat about the rubato[1]?â She had deviated from the tempo at one point.
His lips quirked. He bent to the keys and played the passage in question, first to tempo, then again, near but not on the beat. Only a slight difference, but she could feel when the music was fettered and when it was not. Free from constraints, it sang. How could she play it any other way?
âI liked it,â he said, his gaze distant. âYou did well to let the music find its own way.â
His accompaniment had matched her playing effortlessly, even though during rehearsal, with the music masters watching, she had played it to tempo. Had he been expecting her rubato during the performance?
The composer heard it first, heâd mused, then had to bind it to a certain tempo to put on paper. It was never meant to be bound.
Had she read too much into his words? Of course, certain things could not be bound.
Her eyes settled on the stole. She had let it fall as she passed the piano on her way offstage. It had taken all her courage to drop that token for him before a roomful of witnesses.
But the applause had died away as if nothing untoward had happened.
âHow did you hide it?â Did she sound petulant? Good, let him know how she felt.
But the real question, the one she dared not ask, was why heâd hidden it.
Sheâd thought long and hard about making that grand gesture. The recitalâa public performance with elders of several Houses attendingâwas her chance to make the gesture that meant they were both consenting. Such a public declaration in front of so many elders would cement their pledge, and her father would not be able to get out of it.
âYou drop things sometimes. I . . . thought it was an accident.â
She could always tell when he was lying. Her chin lifted. âDid you really?â
He blew out a breath. âSo, it wasnât an accident.â Still calm and composed, as if nothing could ruffle him. Infuriating!
Heâd always had a tranquil air about him; she liked it until it was directed at her. As children, there had been some awkwardness when they found out what it meant to be each otherâs first claimants. But over the years, her House had been in the ascendant, leaving his far behind. Her fatherhad tried to get out of the arrangement with bribes.
She shuddered. What if a more suitable claimant appeared? She didnât want anyone else. Skylar had first claim to her hand, and he only needed to ask.
But he hadnât, and with them both approaching the age when he should be asking, her father was growing anxious. Ambitious to a fault, he had secured powerful connections through Esaraâs older sisterâs marriage. He had higher hopes than a Music Master for Esara.
Skylarâs fingers danced over the keys. How lightly he was taking this!
The tune morphed and changed. He had a way of drawing out a melody with his rubato, letting the music ebb and flow, letting it find its own way.
One hand brushing the side of the piano, she stepped forward to pick up her stole and toss it across her shoulders. The sequins shimmered and Skylar turned towards her.
Her heart fluttered. It was as if he could see straight into it.
A muscle jumped in his cheek and he bent once more to the keys.
She stepped around the bench and sat beside him, facing the other way, her hand as close to him as she dared. Not touching, yet she made him falter, the rise and fall of his breathing, the ebb and flow of his melody telling her what she needed to know.
The spaces between the notes could be eloquent, like the words he chose not to say. Yet she could feel them there, hanging unspoken in the air.
A door screeched open. âLady Esara?â
At her governessâs voice, Esara huffed in exasperation. Snatching up the hem of her gown, she rose, the stole slithering to her feet, but the lights fell before she could pick it up.
Stranded in a sea of black, she drew in a sharp breath. Whatâs happening?
Skylarâs hand slid to the small of her back, steadying her. How quickly heâd sprung to his feet! She hadnât even heard scraping of the bench, yet here he stood beside her, the palm of his hand guiding her . . . somewhere.
In the dark, he had the advantage. Her eyes adjusted to shadows as he herded her into a corner of one wing. Between music stands and percussion instruments, they stood so close she could see the contours of his face. Why draw her here? Did he suspect this was . . . what? A chance to discredit him? She wouldnât put it past her father.
If the two of them were found together, unchaperoned, her father could go straight to House elders and accuse Skylar of impropriety, using that as an excuse to break off the agreement between their Houses.
Her gaze fell upon her own hands and she flushed; she was the one holding on. But as she let go, Skylarâs hands rose to clutch hers.
âIs there another claimant?â he whispered, urgency colouring his voice.
âNo,â she whispered back. But that could change from one day to the next.
He huffed. âNot yet.â Very indignant. âYou trust your people?â
She sighed. She did not even trust her parents, let alone her personal guard and governess.
âNo,â she admitted, her heart heavy.
The lights went on, flooding the hall. Who had turned them off in the first place? Footsteps sounded, brisk and efficient, getting closer. Would they come up here?
Skylarâs vest crumpled in her trembling hands, and his arms went around her. âItâs all right.â He hushed her. âIâm here. I wonât let anything bad happen to you.â
Footsteps came closer. If they climbed the stage, for certain they would look in the wings . . .
âDonât be afraid,â he whispered in her ear. âClose your eyes.â
How would that help?
Heavy boots clomped up the steps. This could not be good for her or Skylar.
âOh, here it is!â Her personal guard sounded relieved. âThis shawl, right?â
Esara leaned sideways to peek out, but Skylarâs foot pressed against hers, nudging her back.
Her governessâs voice rang out. âLook in the wings. I thought I heard something.â
Esaraâs heart slammed against her chest. What to do? If they found her here in the dark, in Skylarâs embrace, her father could do worse than break off the arrangement. Would he . . . would he have the guards waylay Skylar? She tried to push away but his arms tightened around her.
âAre your eyes closed?â What was he going on about? âSara, please. Donât move.â
She froze. He hadnât called her that since they were children.
Her skin prickled as the low hum of magic rose and spread around the two of them like a rippling curtain of water. A . . . cloaking shield? But . . . rules and laws around the use of magic were strictly enforced, especially here in the capital. Licences were prohibitively expensive. If someone found out heâd done this in a public space, heâd be in a lot of trouble.
A hush descended, the footfalls of her guards dulling as the shimmering haze curtained them off.
Would it be enough? Held within the circle of Skylarâs arms, she squeezed her eyes shut. Please, let it be enough!
The guards clomped in and pushed aside a clutch of music stands, sending several clattering to the floor. Skylarâs arms tightened around her. She opened one eye. The guards were peering into corners. One straightened and glanced in her direction, giving her a fright. But they only shrugged at one another and left.
âNothing?â Her governess sounded disappointed. âLook in the other wing.â
Finally, footsteps echoed off the stage and disappeared out the door.
Esara breathed again, her trembling slowly abating. âThatâs how you hid the stole?â
âBeen training for it my entire life.â He sounded a little embarrassed. âI was afraid youâd do something like that before I was ready.â
Did it have to do with the bride price? Not something she wanted to know, especially since she couldnât help. What to do?
He cleared his throat. âI need more time to make good the pledge. Will you . . . wait?â
Almost weeping with relief, she clutched him tight. He wasnât giving up. He would find a way. âOf course.â Why wouldnât she? He had caught her when she almost fell into her fatherâs trap, was right here when she needed him.
Years ago, heâd been teased for weeks after heâd pounced across other children when sheâd dropped her kerchief in a game, the one that mimicked the declaration at an official claimingâI will catch you if you should fall. I will be there for you for the rest of our lives.
âI will wait for you,â she said. âI will hold you to the pledge.â
His arms tightening around her, Skylar blew out a breath. âYour pardon, I should have said something before now, but there never seemed to be a good time.â
She sighed. âI know. â There was always someone around.
He pulled away, his hands sliding under her elbows, but she did not release him. This was such a rare and precious moment she did not want to let go, so she smoothed his crumpled vest. He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, making her tremble again for entirely different reasons.
Their narrow escape and the cedarwood scent of him must have made her giddy; she stood on tiptoes and brushed his cheek. Emboldened by the quickening of his breath, she allowed her lips to stray, noting with some satisfaction the hammering of his heart.
Not so composed and self-possessed after all.
Like the spaces between the notes, his breaths were eloquent between her kisses. When he responded in kind, the music between them unfettered, she finally understood the need for chaperones.
He let her ease away, then caught her again. One more lingering kiss and then another followed as they made their slow way back to the stage.
By the piano, she pulled away to straighten his vest and brush down his hair. Then she glanced towards the door and whispered for him to dissolve the curtain around them.
Leaving him sitting on the bench, rather red in the face and easing his cravat, she skipped down the steps and out of the hall.
A tune upon her lips, she followed the melody, moving with its ebb and flow, straying a little from the tempo, allowing the music to go where it was always meant to go.
Between the Notes â«
Let the music ebb and flow
Light or heavy, high and low
It already knows where itâs meant to go
Quietly follow, it will show
Everything youâll ever need to know
I may not see your every smile (catch your every glance)
But I can hear your every sigh (sense your every frown)
Between the notes I can tell when youâre up and when youâre down
I can hear your every joy, every fear
When youâve swallowed all your tears
As long as I am near
Let it fall, I am here
Between the light and the dark
Can you hear the phrasing of my heart?
I pray, you will stray from the tempo (with your rubato)
Let the tune rise and fall, ebb and flow
Like your heart, it knows where it wants to go
Between the light and the dark
Between the notes that shouldnât be apart
Let your playing free the music from my heart
Let it flow all around
Can you feel this sound?
Like your heart, I am unbound
Like your heart, I am here, unbound!
[1] Rubato: For greater musical expression and nuance, a performer may disregard or subtly manipulate strict tempo within a musical phrase (often against a rhythmically steady accompaniment).
Thanks to Reedsy/Discovery for an ARC of this book, a collection of short stories and poems. Itâs a relatively quick read, and many of the stories are connected, with some of the same characters repeating, often from a different POV. All of the poems include QR codes to listen to them set to music. I listened to a couple but found I didnât have the patience to do it with all of them. Itâs faster to just read, and the music, for me, took away from my enjoyment. They werenât my preferred style of music either, which is not to say they werenât good.
There are recurring themes in this book that deal with environmental abuse and the necessity of accepting everyone for who they are, welcoming the stranger, and seeking hope. There are stories of rediscovered love after years apart, duty at the cost of personal happiness, acceptance of immigrants driven by environmental forces to leave their homelands, and an understanding that, even in her fantasy stories, we are all the same underneath the masks we wear.
The writing is skillful and, often, poetic. This one made me chuckle because it was so surprising. âRory stood there in the long corridor, feeling like a bell half rung, staring at the door, and inarticulate cry upon his lips.â I found I enjoyed the longer stories more because they allowed the time for me to become more immersed in the story. All were unique in their own way, and Iâm interested in reading more from this author.
I have one observation (possibly a criticism). One of the stories, Change of Heart features Sina, an assassin sent by the Prince to make one of his chieftains bend to his will. It's a parable about those in power destroying the environment for their own benefit, and it questions whether a contract signed under duress is still valid. Power, naturally, is a huge motivator for evil deeds. At one point, there's a reference to a canoe, and Sina wonders how she will be able to move with only one paddle. And then, a flat bottom is mentioned. This tells me it was actually a rowboat. The author is very knowledgeable about music and horse, and yes, people, but could use some help when it comes to boats.
Overall, Iâd recommend this collection as a way to familiarize yourself with the writings of Cassia Hall. Personally, I prefer novels, and even the occasional novelette, but if you like short stories interspersed with poetry, this could be the book for you.