"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Rafa asked as she picked her way along a dark, narrow, garbage-strewn alley near the docks. It was pitch-dark except for a full moon and a few flickering gas lamps. If her mother had any idea that she was out here instead of asleep in bed, she would wither Rafa with a single disappointed look.
Keep your head down, mija, she'd say. Our survival depends on not drawing attention to ourselves. But when you were nineteen, sometimes this advice was just impossible to follow.
"We'll be fine," Marlena called back over her shoulder. "This place has been here for months and the Guards have never found us."
"Maybe because it's so filthy?" Rafa squeaked with alarm as her foot slipped in a puddle, almost tumbling her head over heels.
"C'mon!" Marlena grabbed Rafa's arm to steady her. "It's not that bad. Just wait 'til we get inside. The music's amazing, I promise, and I'm not just saying that as the lead singer. It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Besides, I already bought you a ticket."
The two girls had been friends for as long as Rafa could remember. Marlena had been one of the few neighborhood children with the courage to befriend the wizard's daughter, regardless of Queen Shuriki's ban against magic. Rafa was the first (and often the only) audience for Marlena's compositions, and so she could always tell when her friend had stage fright. She had it tonight; the breathless stream of talk gave her away. She needed Rafa there as moral support, whether she would admit it or not.
"Okay, Lena. Lead the way."
"We're almost there."
The illegal dance club was in an abandoned warehouse, its windows boarded up, the cracks stuffed with rags to keep the sound in. A masked stranger asked them for a password at the door.
"Crescendo," Marlena declared proudly as she handed over two tickets - scraps of paper, really, that they would have to destroy later, but who cared?
Inside, the place was as vibrant as it was drab outside. An old chandelier hung from the ceiling; most of the crystals were missing, but the candles blazed brightly. The walls were painted with fiercely expressive murals from floor to ceiling: marigolds with their petals turning to drops of blood; a jaquin shredding ribbons of dark green silk; a young woman with a long ponytail and a tiara beating her fists against a cracked wall of purple crystal. The Lost Princess, of course; who else could it be? There was a real stage on one end, with a drum set and an upright piano covered in rainbow hand prints, a clear space for dancing, and a collection of mismatched tables and chairs that looked like someone had picked them up off the side of the road. Probably someone had. But most of all there were people, laughing and talking, passing food and drink around, acting as if a place like this was totally normal instead of the most incredible thing they'd ever seen. Rafa craned her neck to take it all in.
"Told you!" Marlena shouted in her ear over the noise of the crowd. "Come and meet my bandmates before the set starts."
"But - I don't know anything about music."
"You don't need to. Relax, they're all really nice."
She tugged Rafa along the side of the room and behind the stage, where three people waved wildly and ran over to meet them. They hugged Marlena, shook Rafa's hand and clapped her soundly on the back - all except one skinny young man with a mop of chestnut curls, who leaned in and kissed Rafa on both cheeks, smirking. He wore a very nice aftershave, she couldn't help but notice. His eyes were the strangest color she'd ever seen, so green they were almost golden.
"Hey, guys!" said Marlena. "This is Rafa. She's my biggest fan, and by that I mean my only one so far. Rafa, meet the band: Alex on piano, Maria on drums, and this guy with no sense of personal space is Tulio, our guitarist. He's harmless, I swear."
"Hey, c'mon," Tulio protested with a laugh. "You make me sound so boring!"
"Be grateful," Marlena shot back, making the other two laugh.
"Lena should've warned me how beautiful you were," said Tulio, bowing theatrically. "Roses in your cheeks and the night sky in your eyes. Seriously, how am I supposed to concentrate on music with you watching me?"
"Um … does he always talk like that?" Rafa asked, feeling more lobster-red than rose-colored and not knowing where to look.
"He's a poet," said Alex the pianist, a big man with a gruff voice and a tattoo of the Avaloran crest on one bare shoulder. "Don't let it worry you."
Maria the drummer, a woman with spiky purple hair who was not much bigger than the drum set itself, grabbed Tulio by the arm and towed him away toward the front of the stage. He shot a comically rueful glance at Rafa over his shoulder. She covered a giggle behind her hand.
"We're starting," Marlena explained rapidly, hands flying up to straighten her auburn ponytail in a sudden attack of nerves. "Wish me luck. No, wait, not literally. Performers never say that. Tell me to break a leg."
"That sounds horrible, but okay. Break a leg."
Marlena laughed, squeezed Rafa's hands gratefully and whirled away to join her bandmates.
"Are you ready, Avalor City?" Tulio called, to roaring applause. "Thank you all for coming! We're the Night Singers, otherwise known as Shuriki's personal nightmare. This gentle giant is Alex, this purple cactus flower is Maria, I'm Tulio, and this carrot-top over there is my good friend and lead singer, Marlena. Take a bow, Marlena!"
Rafa clapped until her hands were numb as her friend took center stage.
"Now," Tulio wound up, "Are you ready to make some noise?"
"YES!"
The music, when it began, took Rafa utterly by surprise.
She knew Marlena's voice, even her singing voice, almost as well as she knew her own, but hearing it blend with the instruments was something else altogether. Maria's drums were ferocious and precise at once, Alex's piano harmony carried everyone like a strong pair of arms, and as for Tulio, how was it even possible for human fingers to move so fast? Notes cascaded like raindrops from the sleek curved guitar he cradled in his arms. She stayed backstage and listened with all her might.
Some of the songs were familiar, such as "The Spirit of Avalor" - the jaquins sang it sometimes when they flew over the city - but others were new to her, and she supposed they must be originals.
Had Tulio written some of the romantic lyrics? Did he practice them on every woman he met? And why would it matter if he did?
"Now for this next number," said Tulio, "We're gonna need a volunteer to come up onstage. You all know the song, I'm sure."
A forest of hands sprang up from the audience below. He looked them over, stroked his chin, paced back and forth a little …
… and looked right at Rafa where she stood in the wings, beckoning her with a single twitch of his fingers.
She pointed at the front of her dress - Me? - and he nodded. Yes, you.
Keep your head down, mija, she could hear her mother's warning whisper.
But it was also her mother who, with the window curtains drawn and the door closed, had taught her how to dance.
She shook her hair out of its bun, smoothed her skirt and walked out with her head held high.
Tulio, grinning from ear to ear, handed her a pair of maracas. The song they played next was one every Avaloran knew by heart, and so even she, who had never played an instrument in her life, could figure out when to rattle them.
Rhythm was a powerful thing, she realized. No wonder Avaloran wizards like her father had channeled their magic through drums. For once in her life, she could imagine how Alacazar must have felt when casting a spell. For once, she could think of him without bitterness.
When she gave the maracas back at the end of the song, Tulio took her hand and swung it up into the air. Marlena beamed with pride in her friend. The audience clapped. For her.
She could still feel the heat of his skin after he let go.
