Elara carried her steaming mug of black coffee over to the corner booth where Sarah and Lily were sitting. Sarah scooted over, making room on the worn leather bench. It was the first time in half a year that Elara had sat in a public place, surrounded by the hum of conversation and the clatter of silverware.
She took a sip of the coffee. It was strong and rich, burning away a little more of the fog in her mind.
"See? I told you it wasn't so scary," Lily whispered, leaning across the table, her chin resting in her hands. "Julian is nice. He makes the best chocolate croissants in the whole wide world."
Elara smiled, nodding in agreement. She glanced back toward the counter. Julian was wiping down the espresso machine, chatting easily with a regular customer. As she looked past him, her eyes caught something tucked away in the far corner of the bakery, partially hidden behind a large potted fern.
It was a small, spinet piano. It looked battered, the wood scratched and water-stained, clearly serving more as a decorative table for extra napkins than a musical instrument.
Julian, noticing the direction of her gaze, walked out from behind the counter to clear a nearby table. "It's a relic," he said, following her eyes to the spinet. "My grandfather refuses to tune it. Says it's a lost cause, the soundboard is cracked. But it still makes a noise if you hit the keys hard enough."
He looked at Elara, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're a piano player, right? At least, that's what Elias implied."
Elara felt a sudden spike of anxiety. She quickly shook her head, holding up her hands. She wasn't a piano player. She was a singer who couldn't sing, fumbling her way through her dead fiancé's unfinished chords.
"She's a dragon tamer!" Lily corrected loudly, earning a shush from her mother. "She makes the piano sound like a big, scary storm."
Julian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A storm, huh? Well, that old spinet could probably use a good storm to wake it up." He gestured toward the instrument. "Go ahead. The morning rush is over. Nobody minds a little noise."
Elara's heart hammered against her ribs. Play in front of people? Here? But as she looked at the neglected little piano, she felt the familiar itch in her fingers. The storm she had written yesterday was still buzzing in her head, begging to be let out.