Thank you so much to Aphaea21, Mominator124, Pip and CO, phanrose, SloaneDestler, lindaweng, peanutpup, and MarilynKC for the lovely reviews!
The following chapters (up to 96) will be posted all on the same day as a Christmas/New Years present to you! :) I will release them in increments!
Enjoy!
Christine
Chapter 90
The Musician
Erik told me that, between now and the completion of the Chamber's construction - which was expected to take about a month more - Erik would be expected to continue executing. Now that the plans for the Chamber were done, his focus could return to magical killings.
Once the Chamber was built, however, it would be responsible for executions, and Erik would return to his original purpose. Entertainment through mere magic.
I asked him while lying next to him one night if he was capable of killing anymore.
He'd paused, and then said, resigned, "It is only for one more month. Then I will be done."
Over the next few weeks, we spent as much time as possible at Nadir's house. Nadir, surprisingly, didn't seem annoyed by this. In fact, he appeared entirely pleased that I had my father. And he seemed to like Gustave Daae - my father was calm and collected, analytical and quiet. And what was even better was that the safety and warmth and good company was healing my father from whatever residual illness he still had. His eyelids were no longer dark, he was standing up straighter, and he was walking up the stairs with little issue.
My father enjoyed Nadir's company in return, but he seemed to especially like Ibrahim, and his mood brightened whenever the Grand Vizier came around. Though my father himself was unassuming, he did enjoy people who were more spirited. Like my mother. And he found Ibrahim hilarious.
The person, though, that he was most interested in (besides me) was Erik.
He wanted to know as much as he could.
It was a few days after they first been introduced properly that he said to him, late at night after Reza and Nadir had retired to bed, "Christine sang for me the other night."
Erik cocked his head. "Oh?"
"Yes." My father took a sip of wine, and then placed it on the coffee table. He leaned back onto his armchair, looking at us where we sat on the couch perpendicular to him. "She was very, very good. And she said that you taught her."
Erik smiled. "Yes, that's true."
"And, if I recall from when I saw you as a child, you can sing yourself?"
"I do."
"May I hear?"
Erik didn't say yes or no. He merely stood, assuming a position most suitable for singing, and began.
I watched as my father's eyes widened, his emotions matching my own in wonder. I was still, to this day, marveled by Erik's voice. And every time he sang, I fell in love with him a little bit more.
When Erik finished, he took a seat next to me again. I gripped his hand. He held it in return.
"That was..." my father began, and had to physically shake his head to clear the daze he'd been in. "That was incredible." He studied Erik. "I've never heard that piece that you sang."
"I wrote it."
My father's brows rose. "You write music?"
He nodded. "And play piano. I've never tried my hand at violin, though I've created a little toy that can play the instrument. It's currently with Reza."
"I'd like to see that tomorrow."
Erik smiled. "I'm sure Reza would be willing to show it to you."
My father stared for a while longer at Erik. Then he turned his look to me. "You picked a musician, Christine."
I grinned. "Yes, Papa."
"Well," he said, and picked up his wine once more, "I do approve. And-" He looked at Erik. "Should you wish to marry my daughter - which I should hope are your eventual intentions - you would have my blessing."
