CHAPTER 2He talked.
Of all that was holy, he actually spoke to me, in words not music, language I understood. I mean, I knew he was smart, I knew he understood me. Even if the Regent hadn’t said so, I only had to look at him to know that.
But nobody had said one word about him being able to communicate in a way that wasn’t music. I guess that makes me as bad as Dourack that I assumed the most basic explanation, but I’d thought the so-called songs—and come on, they were more than that, no matter how the Regent wanted to label them—were his means of expression.
I’d never been so excited about being wrong in my entire life.
And scared. Let’s not forget scared.
Because if he could talk, what was going to stop him from telling the Regent that I’d broken into his conservatory to gawp at his
