“Yes, I’ve been training as a ballerina since I was a very young girl,” I responded with that practised demure expression. “It’s been my dream to be a part of the Opera Company since then.”
“I look forward to seeing you perform at the gala. Will your parents be watching as well?” he said casually.
Even though it had been years since I’d lost them, it still felt like a sucker punch to have them brought up in such a cavalier way. The hole in my chest that never quite closed up ached in response to his question.
“My mother died when I was very young.” I didn’t break eye contact with the viscount, though my legs shook beneath the table. “My father was killed in the war. My family is the Opera Company now.” I swallowed hard. I spoke of my parents so infrequently. It still hurt to say the words aloud.
“I’m sorry to hear that. He fought for our side?” The viscount didn’t sound very sorry at all, and his question was inappropriate at best. I didn’t know how to respond.
“Uh… He fought with the resistance.” The truth was the best answer I could give. Even though it might have swayed the viscount’s decision, I couldn’t bring myself to dishonour my father’s memory.
“Indeed?” The viscount raised his eyebrows. “And how do you feel about the war?”
Traumatized? Orphaned? Absolutely ruined as a person? How did the man want me to answer this question? How couldI speak casually about something that had caused me to lose everything I had left? I wasn’t sure I could. But for Seff, I would try, so I schooled my face into the most neutral expression that I could muster.
“I abhor violence of any kind. The war brought nothing but unnecessary tragedy to my family.”
“Too true. Well, perhaps you’ll have a family of your own before long. God willing.”
Ah, yes. The viscount was not just a viscount. He was also a prominent member of the Church of Scion, obsessed with creating legions of little Scion followers. Erik de Barras was a deacon, the closest a married lay person could come to the exclusive priesthood. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just flashed an awkward grin and looked over at Seff, deferring to him.
“These parties,” the viscount said, motioning to the crowded dance floor. Maren and Carlotta were dancing and drinking champagne, glittering like jewels in the crowd. “They are so…vulgar. But I suppose it is good to see people celebrating again, after so much tragedy,” he sighed, referring once again to the war.
“Mm hmm,” I mumbled in polite agreement. God. All I wanted to do was change the subject. Every time someone brought up the war it felt like a scab being ripped off before it had fully healed. It left me raw and exposed. I had spent a lot of time carefully building walls around those wounds. This was not how I hoped tonight would go.
“It is just so discouraging, to see this whole generation solely focused on parties and dancing and frivolity,” the viscount continued, gesturing toward me. “No offence, of course, but what use is dance and music and art when there is so much to rebuild? The very fabric of society is being torn apart day by day, and you feel that your time is best spent twirling on your tiptoes?”
My stomach lurched. I was never good in situations like this; I tended to nod and agree with things that I didn’t remotely believe and only think of the perfect thing to say hours later. I didn’t want to make a scene or offend the viscount, so I did what was automatic and let out a girlish giggle, tucking an errant curl behind my ear, feeling smaller than a speck of dust. This conversation was going exactly as I had worried it would, despite my efforts to appease and impress this man.
“Well, at least you’re getting all this out of your system now, I suppose.” The viscount took a long sip of something that looked suspiciously like a Death in the Afternoon, the slightly green liquid shimmering in the delicate crystal coupe. “You certainly won’t have time for it soon enough.” He took another pull from the coupe, swallowing loudly, lips smacking together. “Family. That’s what society needs. Strong families. Women in this city are far too worried about having a career—trying to live independently. Quite frankly, these childless women are poisoning our society. What we really need are women in their place in the home, having children. Leave the rest up to the men, and what men can’t take care of we’ll leave up to God.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, shifting my gaze to Seff. He avoided my eyes.
I didn’t know what to say. The viscount demanded my respect. And yet the things he said made me queasy. I didn’t want to leave my career. But on the other hand, I didn’t exactly have much of a career to pursue in the first place. I was just a chorus dancer. And before long, I would be too old for even that. What would I do then? I supposed it would only be sensible to marry someone like Seff: someone who could take care of me, though it would mean the death of my own ambitions. A pang went through me as I thought of what those ambitions might have been, once. I tried to hide the dismay that I felt. Damn my transparent face, always betraying me.
The viscount finished the cocktail in front of him and waved for another. “What?” He looked me directly in the eyes. “Do you intend to be a chorus dancer forever? Seraphina, you’re not even a principal and you’re what? Twenty-three?”
“Twenty-four,” I corrected, not entirely sure why I bothered. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes, and I tried in vain to blink them away. It killed me to give the viscount the satisfaction of knowing he got under my skin.
“Even better. And you know with a body like that you don’t exactly have an illustrious career ahead of you,” he said, gesturing to my figure, speaking about me as if I wasn’t even present. Seff remained conveniently silent. “You’d be much better off bearing my son some children, don’t you think?” The viscount’s tone was derisive and cruel. I bit back the tears prickling at my eyes, but it was no use: one slipped out, giving me away.
“I don’t see why this is upsetting, do you, Seff? I’m approving of her as a member of my family. She should take it as a compliment.” He leaned back, rolling his broad shoulders, as if daring me to say something back to him.
I couldn’t.
“And to hear that your father fought for the resistance on top of it all? You should be thanking the Lord that I’m even allowing my son to spend time with you. You don’t belong to the right social circles. What exactly do you believe you can offer my son? You’ve got the right body type for breeding. That’s about it. Take my approval for what it is, girl.” He slammed back the contents of the next cocktail. He was well on his way to drunk. And I had to get away from this conversation.
“I’m so sorry, could you excuse me for a moment?” The tears were going to fall in earnest any second now; I needed to get away from this table before they did. I needed air. Seff didn’t saya word. Not a word in my defence, as he watched me scramble up and out of the booth.
DISASTERS
After the Rooftop
Ifound Carlotta and Maren on the dance floor soon after I left the rooftop. They were lost in the music, not noticing that I’d been missing. Good. The less I had to speak about that mortifying rooftop encounter, the better.
“Hey! We were just going to come find you! Where’s Seff?” Maren shouted over the trumpets.
“No idea. I need a drink,” I snapped. I was still annoyed, but I was at least happy to be back with my friends. I just wanted to forget about all of it. The viscount, Seff, the annoyingly attractive stranger who’s warm scent seemed to follow me all the way into the club…Enough of that,I reprimanded myself.
