A whisper of guilt wove through her. What would happen to the man trapped inside if Madame found out? It was hard to imagine something worse than the mirror, but at least he had magic there. She could be taking him from a prison and placing him into a nightmare.
You can’t help him if you’re not here.
Selene walked to the true entrance to the upper floors of the opera house, not some secret place. It was a risk, but one Selene was willing to take. She had little left to lose. The stairs were wider and there was a lift to allow for the rise and descent of sets and costume boxes. Stepping onto the landing in the hallway off the grand foyer was like stepping out of a dream. From out of the shadowy depths and into the glittering expanse of gold. Madame Giroux’s office was down one more hallway. A dozen steps, and Selene could guarantee a place in the competition.
Gigi was slumped on the floor by Madame’s door, head in her hands. There was music scattered around her. Selene cleared her throat. Gigi looked up. Her eyes were red from crying.
“What happened?”
“Not here.” Gigi’s voice was thick with sorrow.
Selene helped pick up the sheets of music and gave Gigi a hand. Gigi led her down the hallway, to the little nook they’d used as a meeting spot for years. She tipped against the wall.
“Why are we doing this, Selene?”
Because we want this. Because we need this.
“Because we don’t know how to do anything else?” Selene took her place next to Gigi, handing her the remaining sheet music.
“I tried to talk to her about the sabotage. Someone slipped oil under the door of my practice room. I brought up your music, too.” Gigi flexed the toes of her left foot and dragged them up the wall before she dropped down, defeated. “It did not go well.”
“I appreciate the effort.” Selene took Gigi’s hand. “I’ll fight my way back in.”
“She asked to see my music.” Gigi held up the rumpled pages. They were marked with so much red. “And her official opinion is that my piece isn’t good enough to steal.”
Selene took a deep breath, releasing the tension in her jaw. Madame Giroux had always been cold to Gigi, but this was cruel.
“May I see?”
Gigi’s smile was thin. “It won’t make a difference now. I won’t have time to rewrite it. Besides, we’re supposed to be independent.”
“We’re also supposed to perform our own songs, and Madame turned a blind eye to that.” Selene took the music. A cold feeling rippled over her skin. Madame had told her the rules mattered. But when they were broken, she didn’t care. She wouldn’t even listen. What good would telling her about the mirror do? What use was the mirror to her at all?
Unless she had the magic within it.
What he’d done—cut himself and bled the magic—it was far beyond what she knew was possible. Selene always looked for doors. If magic existed beyond song, then it was more than a door. It was the whole building knocked down.
Resolve settled over Selene. “Can you dance? How’s your hip?”
Gigi extended her leg up to the ceiling. “Just needed someice.”
Selene examined the swell of Gigi’s hip. She’d hit the stage hard enough that Selene was sure she wouldn’t be able to dance today, tomorrow, or even the day after. But Gigi knew her body better than anyone else. Who was Selene to say what hurt and what did not?
“Your dress.” Gigi appraised Selene, no doubt looking for wounds.
Selene kicked the stained hem forward. The gold threads were frayed and smudged. Blood splattered the silk, darkened to something that could be mistaken for rust. She didn’t know if she had the words to describe what had happened. She’d stumbled into the darkness and found what should have been impossible. A ghost.Theghost. The fear was warranted. The ghost was real.
His voice still resonated in her bones with a music like night. She could feel its magic without magic, drawing her back to the mirror like a fire-starved moth. His beauty unraveled her, his very presence enraptured her beyond her endless pursuit of power, her drive to win. There was something about him that made her want more.
“Are you okay?” Gigi’s voice was tentative.
Selene had gone too long without an answer. She thought of the way Madame had looked at her.Some stars burn bright. Some stars burn out.
She could tell Gigi everything: spill out her new secret the way shadow had spilled from the ghost’s skin. She should tell her about her life before the opera house. Her life at the palace remained locked away—Victor and what she had done to her father. But she didn’t know where to begin or how it would end or if it was even worth the words.
“Let’s go.”
“Do you want to change?” Gigi’s face was a mask of calm, no doubt disturbed to see the dress she’d designed destroyed.
