23
Rohan was up early on Monday morning, seated at the piano determined to nail Asha’s song. “After I kill Hybris,” he said, “I’m going to write a reprise to ‘Asp’ that will go after ‘Slay,’ the final song. Then the story will be finished.”
It would be wonderful if he could write his way into closure, though I doubted it was that simple. Hmm. This wasn’t the moment to gloat that my song was on the album, but was it the moment to tell him how I felt?
“Ro?”
He was lost to me, testing out chords.
Apparently not. I kissed him goodbye and portalled to the address I had for Millicent’s apartment in West Los Angeles. Portalling was a fairly gentle sensation. A slight tug from my core propelling me forward as I popped out of one place and appeared in the other.
I started strong. I’d had a go
