Painting: Pieter Claesz
The raindrop notes of the first prelude of Bach’s Das Wohltemperierte Klavier played out like a spring shower, dancing between the clink of wineglasses and the murmur of voices. To his surprise, Zene was enjoying himself.
Don’t get too confident, he thought. It’s not like it’s Britten.
Under the warm light of the room, Arcady’s playing was subdued and efficient, his attention entirely absorbed by the music. He wasn’t showy, he wasn’t vain…. and wasn’t what Zene expected.
Only then did Zene notice the woman walking up to the side stage: a black strapless gown, honey-orange hair framing the face of an angelic statue. She stopped short, hands on hips, and tilted her head. “Arcady Junior and Arcady Senior, together at the Hanbilts’,” she said, “yet not together.”
