“Oh fuck off, Rory!” Elena stepped to my side, grabbing my arm to bolster me. “This is her home we’re talking about. She should be involved.”
“That is exactly why sheshouldn’tbe involved.” Rory crossed his arms over his chest.
Ciaran had remained silent during the exchange, as if he wanted to hear both sides before he made any kind of statement one way or another. I hated him for it. I wanted him to jump to my defence. To interrupt Rory, swearing that I would be good enough to help—that I would be an asset to their team. But he said nothing. And suddenly I was back at that table in Montmartre, watching Seff sit there silently as the viscount tore me apart. I was in rehearsals at the opera while the director pointed at the ballet chorus, remarking how it would look better if we were all the same size, while Madame Giselle just nodded her head in agreement and moved me to the back of the line. And I couldn’t help it. The tears that had threatened to spill over began to fall in earnest. I could do nothing to stop them. So I resorted to my old standard and turned on my heel.
I stormed out of the training space, fuming, and stomped back through the tunnels of the City Beneath. I didn’t even know where to go. I couldn’t go back to Ciaran’s. I needed to get out of there anyway. That living situation had become completely untenable. It was clear that Ciaran thought he knew better than me. And I didn’t need that in my life. It was why things werenever going to work out with Seff. The condescension set me aflame in an entirely different way than I had been feeling lately.
My desire to go back into the opera house was not entirely selfless. I knew that. Just like I knew that my magic training was not at the same level as the others. They had skills and powers that I couldn’t even dream of. But I couldn’t help thinking that if I could just go back into the opera house, maybe… just maybe… I could find the answers I was looking for. I didn’t know where. I didn’t know how. But I knew the answers had to be there somewhere. Someone knew something. Who had done it that night. Who had caused that tragedy. Strega Maria had failed me. Without the closure I sought, I would never be able to move on. I needed to get into that opera house.
Subconsciously, my feet took me toward the Room of Cubes and the dance studio. I didn’t know if anyone would be there, but I needed to move through the stress of this. In the wake of my argument with the boys, I had completely forgotten how my magic had reacted to singing with Ciaran. It had been unnerving—the way the temperature dropped and the wind whipped up around us. I didn’t know what was happening inside me. My emotions were a tempest once more. Sitting around doing nothing would be unhelpful. I needed to sweat through this.
MOTHS
Iknocked on the studio door. To my surprise, Mal answered. She was choreographing for her next class; I begged her to let me dance with her. She obliged. Despite her tough style as a dance teacher, she was warm and compassionate and didn’t say anything about the tears running down my face as I danced out my frustrations.
So many frustrations. Everything with Ciaran. The way my magic remained completely out of control despite my best efforts to train it. The way my life was off the rails, and I was losing the thread of ever being able to go back to normal. The way I didn’t even know what normal was anymore, and I didn’t know if I wanted to go back to it, but having the choice taken away from me was worse than anything. The way those assholes had treated me like some kind of petulant child. I couldn’t even look at them. So, I learned Mal’s choreography and danced until sweat poured off my skin, and I finally felt a bit of relief.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mal handed me some water after we had done the piece so many times that I could have danced the choreography in my sleep.
“Not really,” I deflected. But I saw the look in Mal’s eye—the disappointment tinged with real concern, and decided thatmaybe I could open up to her. I was used to being closed off. Maren was the only one who could ever force me to talk about my problems. But Mal had a similar energy. Warm, compassionate, effusive.
“Okay. I’m having a hard time,” I admitted. The weight of everything that I had been carrying these long months suddenly felt unbearable. But if I could talk to Mal about it, maybe I could lighten that load. “Everything in my life has changed. I had it all, Mal. I was a professional dancer. I had friends. I had aman. I belonged. And it’s all gone. Not only is it gone, but I’ve been accused of witchcraft and sentenced todieif I go back. Maybe none of the things I had were ever exactly what I wanted, but they were something. Now I don’t even know what I have. I’m so scared all the time. If I can sleep at all, I end up dreaming about the chandelier disaster. And things with Ciaran are…”
I paused, the word vomit finally abating long enough for me to wonder if I should continue down this path. But hell, I had spilled my guts already. Might as well hold nothing back.
“This thing with Ciaran is so confusing. Half the time I think I’m falling for him but, how can I be falling for someone I barely even know? When I’m with him, I feel better, lighter, and then I’m hit with a one two punch of guilt because Ishouldn’tbe feeling these things, should I? I should be sad about leaving my old life behind, but sometimes I’m just not. And I’m so tired of carrying all this and never talking to anyone about it and… shit… I’m sorry.”
“That is a lot, Seraphina.” Mal nodded, handing me a towel to catch the sweat and tears that were dripping down my face. “I know I haven’t exactly been where you are now. But every single person who lives down here left something behind. Friends. Family. A career. In my case, it was all three. But I will say, what I have gained from this community has been worth everything that I left behind. I am able to live authentically here. I can bemy true self in a way that would have surely gotten me killed if someone ever found out. I was conflicted about it at first. Especially once I started to make new friends and make new art. But it has been worth it. I think you will find that it’s worth it for you too,” Mal said as she smiled, her large eyes crinkling at the corners. “As for Ciaran…”
“Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything about that. I don’t even know how he feels. It’s probably all in my head or all on my side anyway,” I said, feeling nauseous at having shared that particular tidbit.
“It’s not all in your head.” Mal smiled again. “I don’t think so anyway. Give it time. It will all work out. I really believe that. I think you’d be good for him. He’s been lonely for too long. Aren’t you tired of just doing what youshoulddo all the time anyway?” Mal’s smile turned mischievous.
And that was it. It was barely a five-minute conversation, but somehow, I felt lighter than I had in ages. Mal pulled me in for a hug, and I swore she was glowing.
“Want to dance it out one more time?” Mal asked as she pulled away from me.
“Yes, please.” I sniffled, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
So I danced the piece again, not once, but three more times. Dancing had always been a refuge for me. And singing? Well, it just felt complicated. There was so much baggage, especially now, since that fateful gala… the chandelier. Singing left me an open and festering wound. But dancing gave me the clarity I needed.
“Hey, Seraphina?” Mal called out to me as I walked toward the studio door. “Do me a favour and come try out for my cabaret company next time I hold auditions.” The idea was like an ember sparking something small but powerful in my chest.
I leftMal’s studio knowing what I had to do. Unfortunately, it involved apologizing to Ciaran for my rash behaviour. While I didn’t think I could explain the way that singing left me like a raw nerve, I could say sorry for storming out on them. For acting like a petulant child even as I demanded not to be treated as such.
As I ascended the ladder to Ciaran’s apartment, my stomach was full of something trapped, trying to fly out. Maybe a moth. Or several. The feeling of butterflies was supposed to be pleasant. This was just torture. What if now that he’d seen me have a temper tantrum, he’d changed his mind about me? There would be no more hands on my back during cards. No more songs that seemed to be about me. No more midnight swims in our underwear. Could we just be roommates. Acquaintances? There was too much chemistry for that. Too much left unsaid. My thoughts darkened as I entered the apartment.
Ciaran stood over the small table where we’d played cards. He was poring over what seemed to be blueprints. He hadn’t turned around yet. I took a deep, steadying breath and opened my mouth to apologize.
“Hey. Come here.” Ciaran lifted his right hand, beckoning me to come over without so much as glancing behind.
“Ciaran, I’m—” I started to make my apology, but he interrupted me with his waving hand.
“Come here first. I need your help.”
I furrowed my brow. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Did he even remember how I’d stormed out of the rehearsal space a few hours ago? Did I imagine the tension of the fight that had been brewing?
“I’m trying to figure out how they’re going to lay out the atrium as a party space for this masquerade. The opera house is enormous. I only have the regular blueprints, but I have no access to their party plans. What do you think? You know the place better than I do.”
