The water around the platform shifted and churned, the bioluminescence glowing with each underwater movement. She was too tired to sing her way out. She closed her eyes and imagined another way, piecing together the darkness inside of her to propel the magic forward.
For a moment, she was afraid it wouldn’t work. Then the threads of shadow poured from her wound. She exhaled her relief. It was easier than music, but not quite as effortless as when she was inside the mirror.
Selene wove a boat together, desperate to see if the magic would hold outside the mirror, made from nothing but blood and desire and sorrow. Still, she wasn’t sure it was real until she placed her foot against the wood. Solid and safe and exactly what she needed. A lantern hung in the front. A great oar sat in the center. Selene stepped inside and pushed her way across the water.
The water churned bright blue. Dark things slithered beneath the surface. But none of that mattered because Selene had crafted this boat from only her desperate longing and pain. She glided between the arches, past the rusted chandeliers and dripping walls.
Back to the stairs, back to the door.
She closed it behind herself, shifting a set piece to block it, in case someone happened to wander down. She looked toward the staircase that led to the dormitories. She’d have to creep through the whole hall to get back to her room. Everyone would be asleep in their beds, and Selene didn’t trust the silence of her steps. Instead, she took the stairs that went up to the grand foyer.
She slid off her boots and padded across the marble floor. The dark wasn’t quite as dark as she’d always thought, now that she’d seen inside the mirror. This was all shapes and shades of gray. A hand reached for her, but it was just a statue. The golden faces along this hallway observed each and every transgression.
There was a light on in the library.
Benson was there, surrounded by books. He wrote furiously, no doubt finishing his composition for the auditions. There was ink splattered on his nose and chin and all over his hands. He paused for a moment and cross-checked something among three open volumes, then went back to writing.
Selene pushed open the door. The noise startled Benson out of his seat, knocking over several of the books and nearly dumping ink over his pages.
“Sorry,” Selene said. “What are you still doing up?”
“Rewriting my music from scratch.” He rubbed his temples. He looked dreadful, like a candle burned down to the nub.
Selene was sure she didn’t look any better. “That’s bold.”
“Like doing an entirely new song for your audition?”
Selene held very still. “How’d you—”
“Your practice room is next to mine, Selene. Why didn’t you tell Madame that Revelio took your music?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Selene slumped into one of the chairs. She was tired, down to her bones. “How do you thinkthatwent?”
Benson made a face. “I can—”
“Don’t you dare.” Selene didn’t want to think of what Madame might do. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“For what it’s worth, you were brilliant with that tempest piece. I bet you still make it in.”
Selene shook her head, thinking of the way Madame had looked at her. “It’ll take a miracle.”
“Or a disaster.” Benson’s grin turned into a yawn. “It’s going to be us, Selene. You, me, and Gigi.”
Selene was so tired; she pressed her head against one of the books in his stack. A miracle, a disaster, all out of her control. What if she could make her way back into the competition? Who would stop her if she went to the stage and layered song with sorrow? Madame may say no, but if the palace representative saw what Selene could really do, there was no way they would keep her from performing before the king.
It might be delusion from the lack of sleep or it might be her salvation. She wouldn’t know until the morning.
“And what will you do if you win?”
Benson grinned. “I’ll sing for seven years and then marry the beautiful ballerina mage, who will undoubtedly be changing the world on her own.”
Selene fought to keep her eyes open. “And if she wins?”
“Then I will be but a humble servant to her until I can make her my bride.” He bowed his head with a flourish.
“Hmm.” Selene could sleep in the library. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that happened tonight. “And if I win?”
“I’ll marry her next week.”
