It turns out, Dorien’s efforts to sabotage me were in vain. Master Radcliffe chose Elena to play for the visiting conductor, with Ivan accompanying her on the violin. They practiced all day in the Red Room while I worked on my composition in the smaller Yellow Room. Listening to the twins through the walls was like a lesson in concert performance. Elena had that kind of rare talent that would leave audiences broken and haunted, glued to their seats after the house lights came up, unsure if they’d yet returned to the real world.
And Ivan… he was a masterful violinist, but it was clear to me that he hung back, allowing his sister to shine. Odd, because I’d seen him play with Dorien and Titus in the videos – he was as fast and furious as either of them. Ivan could hold his own and command a stage. Yet, when he played with Elena, he became background noise.
After a while, I set down my violin and picked up my duster to clean the bookshelf beside the window, watching grey clouds move across the mountains and the trees bend in the approaching gale while I listened through the wall. I couldn’t imagine Ivan being anyone’s background noise – not with those intense blue eyes and those cheekbones that could cut glass. And yet… he seemed happy to let his sister take the limelight. Another mystery of Manderley, one I was unlikely to solve while everyone ignored me.
The storm grew more intense. Rain rolled down off the mountains and pooled in low spots on the lawn, creating muddy puddles that reflected dark clouds the exact color of Dorien’s eyes. Harrison had to cancel his trip into town – he couldn’t drive on those roads – which meant I wouldn’t get my new lock until next week.
Dimitri Solokov arrived during the peak of the storm – rain sleeting sideways into the windows, thumping a steady rhythm that kept me company while I worked.
The gong echoed through the house, signaling someone had arrived. When I emerged from the practice room, Madame Usher was greeting the producer in the hall, draping his sodden coat over the antique stand. She snapped her fingers at me and pointed to the Blue Room. I knew what she wanted – drinks must be poured.
“Faye is a charity case,” she explained to Master Solokov as I held out the tray of drinks. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ve accepted her into Manderley’s program in exchange for her service. I shan’t think I’ll do it again. Her father was Donovan de Winter—”
Solokov’s face lit up at the mention of my father’s name.
“—alas, she does not share his talent. On a good day, she can strangle Vivaldi out of her violin, but I wouldn’t expect more than that from her.”
I bit back a retort.It doesn’t matter how she treats me and what she says about me. I’m still here in her school, learning from Master Radcliffe. She’s still paying for medical care for a woman whose husband she tried to steal. I still have as much of a chance as anyone else of winning the Manderley Prize.
I left them to talk as I returned to the kitchen, where I’d laid out an assortment of hors d’oeuvres for Solokov’s visit. Tonight, I’d gone all out into my mother’s Mexican heritage, serving up esquites, crispy deep-fried chimichangas with salsa roja, and cinnamon churros with a dark chocolate dipping sauce. Hearty, warming food for staving off the cold. I reached down to grab the trays and noticed something.
Someone had taken three of the chimichangas from the tray.
I smirked. If someone thought stealing a few nibbles would scare me away, they had another thing coming. I rearranged the food so the gaps weren’t noticeable and took the trays out to the Blue Room, arranging them on a table in the corner.
I half expected Madame Usher to ban me from the room, but she seemed to have forgotten about me as soon as Master Solokov arrived. Harrison had lit the fire, and it blazed with welcoming heat. I settled myself on the chesterfield by the fire, letting the warmth soak into my limbs.
The others filed in as they finished their practice and groomed themselves. Heather’s curls caught the light, bouncing beneath the chandelier. Elena looked like an elf with her silver waterfall of hair streaming down her back. Aroha wore a floor-length dress printed with bold swirling designs that matched her tattoos. The three Muses filed in last, and I stifled a gasp.
They wore the black ruffled shirts and tight pants from their European tour. On anyone else, those outfits would be ridiculous costumes, but the three of them were unholy gods. Dorien’s dark hair flopped over his eyes and curled around his collar, every inch the dark prince. Titus had to duck under the lower arms of the chandelier to avoid hitting his head. As he did, the cornrows trailing down his back fanned out, and the beads at the ends clicked together. That guy was just so big, it was hard to picture him playing a beautiful instrument with precision, and yet he could shred that cello like no one else. Ivan stood in contrast to them both, with his silver hair matching the threads of glittering embroidery on his cuffs and collar, and his Eastern European features hard and focused.
Dorien and Ivan took up places across the room, near Madame Usher, but Titus slumped down beside me on the low couch. His leg brushed mine, and sparks shot up my leg. My mind might’ve been disgusted at the idea of him sneaking into my room and watching me sleep, but my body had no such qualms.
When we were all gathered, Elena and Ivan took their places and performed their piece. As the music flowed through me, the warmth of Titus’ leg penetrated my skin until I could feel it in my bones, and his scent danced across my nostrils – red musk and myrrh, cut with fragrant roses – its intensity conjured by the music and by the electric attraction I felt to him.
Something is seriously wrong with me. I’ve spent far too many hours cooped up in Mom’s hospital room with only elderly doctors for company. A week at Manderley with the Bad Boys of Baroque and I’ve turned into a mess of hormones.
I tried to focus on Elena’s fingers and Ivan’s solemn notes, but Titus’ presence loomed large beside me. Every breath he took and every subtle movement of his body translated through that square of skin where we touched until I was a mess of want and frustration.
I refused to look at him, instead focusing on the grim features of our Russian visitor. Solokov’s expression gave nothing away, but when Elena lifted her hands from the piano he rushed at her, collecting her fingers in his, and kissed the knuckles of her hand.
“You will go far. You should already be in Europe, not wasting away in this stuffy school.”
In her seat, Madame Usher bristled and looked to Ivan as if to demand his support. Ivan slunk back into the shadows by the door. It was Master Radcliffe who came forward to stand beside Elena. He threw his arm around her shoulders.
“Elena is my star pupil,” he said, and there was a hint of challenge in his voice. “Like a delicate flower, she must be allowed to bloom at the right time. Too early and she will wilt, her beauty fading.”
Madame Usher rose from her seat, and everyone started talking at once, surrounding Solokov and offering him drinks, food, a place to sit. Titus turned his body to me. He didn’t say anything, but there was a confidence in his broad shoulders that told me I didn’t want to be near him. I shot up and darted around the group to the door. To where Ivan lurked like a vampire in the night.
I leaned my back against the wall beside him, my fingers brushing the paper, feeling a crack where the wall met the wainscoting. A faint draft tickled my fingers. “Your sister is so talented.”
Ivan glanced up at me. This close, his eyes became shards of sapphire – facets of twinkling beauty catching the light. So clear they drew me in until I lost myself in their depths, toppling into a lake of frozen emotion.
He turned away, his lip jutting out – a deliberate and conscious movement to avoid answering me. Ivan fixed his gaze on his sister in the center of the room, surrounded by the adoration of teachers and students, while he stood here, forgotten. Across the room, Dorien swept his head up and caught Ivan’s gaze, and an unspoken conversation flickered between them.
I slipped out of the room. I knew I wasn’t wanted. Madame Usher wouldn’t let me speak with Solokov, and the others were intent on ignoring me, so what was the point? I clicked the door shut behind me—
Down the hall, a door slammed. The sharpBANGof wood cracking against the frame echoed through the walls, trembling the vases on their plinths.
