“Hmm. That might explain his anger towards his son. Do you think we should cross Artem off our list of potential kidnappers?”
“No. We think whoever tried to kidnap Anya did it to force Alexandr’s hand. What if Artem wanted to eliminate her so he wouldn’t have to marry her?”
The thought of someone killing Anya has my blood running cold. I can’t imagine a world where she isn’t in it.
“We’re going to protect her,” Dominic says.
“Yeah. Anya needs to survive this without experiencing any trauma. We have to keep her safe. We also need to convince Alexi to take back his birthright. I think Anya might play a key role in making that happen. I have an idea.”
Pulling out my phone, I make a few calls. When I finally reach the person who can assist me, I already have the plan worked out in my head. When my contact balks at my request, I finally persuade her with a bribe. I end the call to see Dominic watching me.
“That’s a lot of money,” he says.
“I think it will be worth it. At least I hope it is. We have some work to do before tomorrow night.”
At the hotel, we find Alexi has already retired for the night. Dominic pours me a glass of bourbon and sits across from me.
“You think this plan will change Alexi’s mind?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but we need to try. Alexi loves his sister. He needs to act like a big brother and protect her from her current fate.”
“Watching her perform should help. However, how are you going to prove to him that she’s in danger?”
“He already knows someone tried to kidnap her once. He needs to see and hear for himself the truth of what she’s facing if he stays his current course.”
The next morning, over breakfast, I shared with Alexi the news that we were going shopping to get him a tuxedo.
“Why would I need a tuxedo?” Alexi asks in surprise. “Where am I going?”
“To the theater. You’re going to watch Anya perform as the Lilac Fairy. It’s her opening night.”
“You think it’s safe for me to attend? What if someone recognizes me?”
“It will be dark in the theater, and I’ve gotten us a box. We’ll arrive late enough so that we won’t have to mingle in the lobby, but we can go straight to our seats. We can leave before the lights come on.”
“Why are you doing this?” he asks suspiciously.
“I want to see your sister’s performance. I thought you might want to see it too.”
“What about my father? He’ll be there. He wouldn’t miss Opening Night.”
“He won’t see you. I promise. I’ve made all the arrangements.”
Alexi considers it for a few minutes, but I can tell he’s desperate to agree. He finally nods his head. “Let’s go shopping for a tuxedo.”
When I arrive at the theater, I spot Alexandr with his guests, Pavel, Artem, and Oleg. His assistant, Igor, stands next to him as they wait for me to join them. Dominic and Alexi wait in the car until I direct Alexandr and the others inside. In Alexandr’s box, Pavel, Artem, and Oleg take three of the seats at the very front of the box. Alexandr and I sit behind them with Igor on the other side of Alexandr. I don’t glance over when two men take their seats in the box next to ours. Instead, I watch Alexandr, who also ignores them. Good. However, before I turn to face the stage, I notice Igor watching Dominic and Alexi. I wait to see if he expresses recognition, but luckily, Alexandr distracts him with a question.
The house lights dim, and the audience's murmurs settle into silence.
I lean forward in my seat without realizing I’ve done it. The velvet curtain parts, and the stage fills with gold and soft pastel light, the court frozen in expectation. I’ve seen The Sleeping Beauty before—more times than I can count, in more theaters than I can remember—but tonight something in my chest feels newly fragile.
Then she appears.
Anya does not enter so much as arrive. The Lilac Fairy glides onto the stage as if the air itself has learned how to carry her. Her white-blonde hair forms a halo beneath her crown, and the pale lavender of her tutu makes her seem less a woman than a promise.
I forget to breathe.
Her first movement is simple: an opening of the arms, slow and deliberate, as if she is holding the future between her palms. There is no rush, no attempt to dazzle. She commandsstillness, and the entire stage obeys. I feel it then—how the ballet bends around her, how even the music seems to wait for her permission to continue.
