“Go get our guest,” I instruct Ben.
While I wait for my men to help him on board, I say my goodbyes to Delphine and my new family. I promise to return to the States soon and will be in touch shortly.
“Where’s Maxim?” I ask Dominic as we board the ship.
“He and the others are searching the cargo hold. He thinks that’s where Cleo and Olivia are hiding. Delphine and your sisters were in the cabin next to his.
“Take me to Delphine’s cabin. I’ll wait for him there.”
Dom opens the cabin door, and I step inside. The room is luxurious, as I’d expect in a guest suite on a Golubrev ship. I step over to the sideboard and pour myself a glass of whiskey, then wait. I hear my father’s angry voice minutes before he enters the next-door cabin. After waiting for another minute, I place the glass down and enter the hall. Pulling out my gun, I open the door and shoot my father’s guards before turning the gun on him.
CHAPTER TWO: ANYA
The studio smells faintly of resin and effort.
I force my breath to stay even as I rise onto pointe, arms sweeping into a soft arc overhead. The pianist plays the familiar phrase again—delicate, lilting, the variation I’ve practiced a thousand times—and I will my body to follow it with flawless precision. Today matters. Casting for The Sleeping Beauty will be announced before lunchtime.
“Aurora or Lilac,” I whisper to myself. “Just… please.”
Beside me, Katya drops out of a pirouette with a small grimace. “Your balances are unreal today,” she mutters, brushing sweaty wisps of hair from her forehead. “If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you.”
I offer a tight smile. “I’m too nervous to wobble.”
“You want Aurora,” she teases, nudging my shoulder. “Everyone knows it.”
“I’d be happy with Lilac too,” I admit. “She’s the one who holds everything together. She’s…” I search for the right word. “Powerful.”
Katya laughs. “Look at you pretending to be humble.”
Before I can answer, the pianist’s music cuts off abruptly. The studio door opens, and Madam Volkov steps inside with thequiet authority that makes the whole room straighten as if she’s pulling strings.
Our artistic director—impeccable bun, sharp eyes, posture like carved marble—holds a clipboard against her chest. A ripple of whispers moves through the dancers.
“Oh God,” Katya breathes. “This is it.”
My mouth goes dry. Sweat cools at the back of my neck.
Madam Volkov surveys us with one sweeping glance. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Thank you for your work this morning.” Her voice is petal-soft but impossible to ignore. “As you know, we will soon begin rehearsals for our production of The Sleeping Beauty. I will now announce the principal and featured roles.”
Someone squeaks. Someone else prays under their breath.
“Princess Aurora,” Madam Volkov says, pausing just long enough to make my heart ache, “will be danced by… Elena Sidorova.”
The studio rustles as Elena covers her mouth with shaking hands. I clap because I should, even though disappointment stings deep in my chest. Elena was brilliant—of course, she was—but it still hurts.
Katya nudges me, gentler this time. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say. “Really.”
Madam Volkov continues—the prince, the fairies, the corps assignments—her voice steady and serene. Then she lifts her chin, and her eyes land on me with surprising warmth.
“And the role of The Lilac Fairy,” she announces, “will be danced by Anya Stepanov.”
For a heartbeat, all sound disappears. The floor feels unsteady beneath me.
Katya squeals and grabs my arm. “Anya! Anya! You got it!”
“I—” My voice breaks. I manage a shaky bow toward Madam Volkov. “Thank you, Madam. I won’t disappoint you.”
