Read In the Palace of Lazar for Free Online Page A

that originated in southern Spain many decades ago. Something about the historical romanticism pulled at her soul. The way her fingers plucked at the strings, how the shape of the instrument reminded her of the female body, and the way the sound filled a room, hypnotized her. Everything about the instrument called to her, everything except the actual lessons themselves. She dreaded her next one, awaiting the wrath of Mistress Tula.
    "No, that is not how that works!" Mistress Tula shrieked as the lesson began. Her accent sounded very similar to Donte's.
    Briar cringed as her instructor picked up her foot and slammed it down on the marble floor, making a slapping sound that echoed in the huge room. Briar sat back in her chair, holding her guitar close to her body. She wanted to ask why it didn't work, but she didn't want her to grow any angrier.
    Her instructor, Mistress Tula, was skilled in the art of flamenco guitar, but at this point, she seemed to only be bullying her around instead of actually teaching her. In fact, Mistress Tula hadn't picked up a guitar once since her session started an hour ago.
    Mistress Tula paced back and forth in front of her, muttering something under her breath. She wasn't much older than Briar, and her young, smooth skin crinkled as she furrowed her brow with frustration. Her dark hair was pulled in a loose braid, some of it falling into her piercing eyes. While Briar herself was barely 5-foot-2, Mistress Tula stood at a lofty 5-foot-10.
    "I'm sorry," Briar said in a quiet voice. She hated knowing Mistress Tula was disappointed or angry with her. It was the same with any of the training performed at the harem. In her mind, the harem had given her so much and when she didn't excel at something, she felt ashamed.
    Mistress Tula whipped around to face her. "You are sorry ? Again, that is not how this works. You do not apologize in music. You make your statement with music and do not look back. Music is not an apology. It is the blood flowing in any musician's veins. Now, play that segment again and this time, do not be sorry."
    Briar broke eye contact with her, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She raised her hand and launched into the segment of music, her body moving gently with the beat she devised.
    She loved the sound of the music more than anything, and loved that she chose it as her extra-curricular activity at the harem, but what Briar hadn't known was how difficult her instructor was going to be on her. Mistress Tula was ruthless, often stopping Briar in the middle of a piece or even after a few seconds of playing. Sometimes, she wouldn't let her start playing until Briar achieved the perfect posture, and because Mistress Tula wasn't satisfied easily, that took up the entire, hour-long lesson.
    But even while Mistress Tula was a strict disciplinarian to her in lessons, she found herself taking a liking to her. There was something about the way she moved, the way her eyes seemed to see into Briar's soul. She could see and understand the way the music put her in a trance.
    "Stop, stop, stop," Mistress Tula shouted, waving her hands.
    Briar immediately cut off, her eyes growing wide. "What did I do wrong this time?" she asked, surprised at how bold her voice sounded. In her lessons, it was always, "What did I do wrong?" not "What did I do right?"
    Mistress Tula stared at her with a cold gaze. "First of all, a six-year-old's posture is better than yours right now. You have got to sit up properly and grip the guitar correctly, or else you will not play this music as it should be played. You are not giving it justice. Respect the music."
    Briar gritted her teeth together to keep from snapping back at her. She was always so harsh on her, and Briar expected the world to end before Mistress Tula ever gave her somewhat of a compliment.
    "Second of all, you missed several notes," she went on as she began pacing again. Her favorite thing to do during Briar's lesson was pace; she hardly