Anticipation and eagerness to see Maria on stage nearly throttled Setzer as he piloted the Falcon toward the Opera House after dinner. Of course, he knew the reason for his expectation was the decision reached that afternoon. With the money he had accumulated from cargo runs and poker games he had planned to buy her a house. Or build her a house. Or buy her a ship. Whatever she wanted and wherever she wanted it. Then that would be their home. His haven and her retreat. Their sanctuary to enjoy each other before returning to the lives they loved to lead.
Setzer could hardly wait to see the look on her face.
The Falcon arrived at the Opera House and Setzer took her down, anchoring her with a slight jostle and a grimace. Locke would make a comment. But Setzer set it aside with a shrug as he switched off the engine and headed below. What does it matter? I’m about to watch my songbird perform on stage.
Giggles and laughter tickled his ears as he descended the stairs. He relaxed into a smile. Yes, life was good. Kefka was dead. Ledo was gone. And Marée? Setzer felt regret. He hoped she found a haven as he had. She was an intoxicating person and a bright spirit. She deserved happiness and wholeness the same as Maria.
Setzer gave a slight shake of his head and fully descended the stairs. Locke helped Celes to her feet from a couch on the west side of the room. Edgar and Terra, however, laughed and giggled respectively over the billiard table as he attempted to teach her the game. Setzer knew that Edgar was quite adept at billiards and pool, much to his surprise. In fact, the gambler had lost a fair share of pride and money to the king of Figaro.
“We’ve landed at the Opera House, ladies and gentlemen, and yes, Locke, I realize I gave you a bit of a bump. I apologize.”
Locke shrugged it off with a smile as he clasped Celes’ hand and brought it to his lips. “No big deal. We’re here. We’re together. And I’ve got the best looking ex-general of the Imperial Army on my arm. Who cares about landings?”
Setzer chuckled. “I can’t say I disagree. Shall we?”
The banter was light-hearted and fun, mixed with “remember when” anecdotes that had the girls nearly in tears from laughter. Celes gracefully took the teasing of whether or not she would perform in Maria’s stead, smiling and laughing and assuring them that it would be more a comedy than a drama if she did. Terra protested, saying Celes had a lovely voice, and Locke heartily agreed. Which of course earned him a short kiss then and a look that gave him the promise of a longer one later that evening.
Locke grinned a bit stupidly.
They arrived at the Opera House entrance, again commenting on the previous adventures had there and how it would be fun to be there simply for the opera. Then the Impresario arrived, bowing low and greeting them all with a wide smile and a welcoming grasp. He ushered them upstairs as he inquired after their health and offered congratulations to their future marriages, giving them heart-felt well-wishings while extricating a promise from them to return soon after the blessed event for a special performance by Maria. They agreed, of course, and then entered the box with laughing smiles among themselves as he assured them it was the best box in the House.
Then he was gone and the quint laughed and chuckled while imitating his varying postures, voices, and gestures.
“I’d forgotten what a character he was,” Locke said as he shook his head.
“Yes, but he has done wonders for the Opera House and its performers,” Edgar admitted.
And they all agreed.
They took their seats with Setzer sitting directly between the couples. The quint had only just made themselves comfortable when the house lights flashed and then dimmed. The conductor in the orchestra pit lifted his baton, directing the attention of audience and orchestra-player alike, and then gave the tempo and the intro beat. The entire audience seemed to draw in a breath, and then the overture began, drawing the audience into the story with the fast-paced music and the intensity of their performance of it. It rose the expectation and eagerness of the viewers until they waited with bated breath for the performance of the opera and the telling of the story.
As the orchestra began the final measures, the curtain started to rise. Setzer found himself leaning slightly forward with an odd tightening to his chest. But when the deep mahogany velvet curtain had risen and the spotlight shined on the main characters, Setzer thought something must have gone terribly wrong. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked, not even focusing on the lovely voice that rang with life and freedom and sang of her adventures on the sea. All he could think was that he had to be sleeping, or in the wrong Opera House, or victim to some sick joke.
The scene played out, all the while with Setzer sitting in his seat in dumbfounded amazement as his mind stuttered and spluttered. The lights came up and Setzer paled, sitting back in his seat as disbelief, astonishment, and shock mutated to betrayal and a slowly building rage. A lie. It was a lie. And that was all his mind would say.
The power of the song seared his soul with a cold fire of distance as his eyes hardened and his face darkened. He slunk lower into his seat as the rage overflowed and consumed his thoughts and reason. The lights of scene two dimmed and Setzer bolted to his feet.
“Setzer?” Edgar looked up at the gambler as he began to make his way to the exit of the box. “Intermission isn’t until--“
”I’ll wait for you aboard the Falcon,” Setzer said in a flat voice.
Edgar stood with a whispered reassurance to Terra and followed after him. “What is it, man?” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”
Setzer’s eyes and face were harder and colder than granite or marble as he faced Edgar. Edgar took a step back. “I’ve played this game, Edgar. I’ll wait for you aboard the Falcon,” Setzer pressed through clenched teeth.
And he turned and strode away, pushing through the doors, taking the stairs two at a time, and stalking through the front foyer to slam past the front doors and into the evening chill beyond. A lie. It was a lie. And those seemed the words that sealed his own doom. How could she . . . ? Why? But the answers to the questions wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t be heard or thought or attempted. All he could see was her face; her hair; the costume, and the persona that had so completely bewitched him.
The betrayal and rage clashed together and twisted his face into a melted cacophony of anguish, humiliation, and confusion as he strode aboard the Falcon. He stalked through the main room and slammed into his office, tearing off his jacket and throwing it aside as he loosed the ruffle at his throat and unfastened the button beneath it. He strode to the chair behind his desk and threw himself into it, kicking his feet up onto the desk as he grabbed a deck of cards. He tore them from the box and began to shuffle, working the cards so quickly between two hands and then one that his fingers were a blur.
Setzer’s silver eyes focused on nothing as he replayed their moments together, searching for hints and clues that could have revealed before what he knew now. Damn! And he slammed his fist onto the desk before kicking back and standing to make his way to the window to glare out, and still he shuffled his cards.