“What are you doing?” Selene hissed.
Gigi’s eyes were bright with mischief. “We are performers. Shouldn’t you make an entrance?”
Selene did not argue. She let Gigi rummage through her things before she settled on one of her own dresses, pulled from the pile on the floor. It was one she’d had made for a performance before she realized she couldn’t move the way she liked. It was a shade off a damask rose, bleeding into a smoky plum. The skirt ended mid-calf but was full and turned each step into a drama. Intricate embroidery in green and gold traced the neckline and sleeves. Selene remembered when Gigi had it commissioned, drawing it up on the back of a piece of music. She’d worked so hard on the details, only to change her mind. Found something more suitable for the competition. The dress was all that remained.
It wasn’t quite the right fit on Selene. She didn’t have that slim dancer’s physique or half of Gigi’s musculature. She was softer around her edges, with broader hips and a rounder bust. Luckily, the back was done up with a long silk ribbon.
“Wait.” Selene took her leather sheaf of music and tucked it against her skin.
“That seems a bit much,” Gigi said.
“There were razors in your shoes.”
Gigi yielded and fussed over the fit for a moment before she turned to her cluttered dresser. Selene reached for a lace choker and wrapped it artfully around her throat. She wasn’t sure what Victor remembered and she did not want to distract him with the ugliness of the past. She would offer him only beautiful things. Save the pain for the ghost. Save the pain for the magic. Save the pain for her triumph.
Funny the way beauty could be brought out with a little color and glitter. Not making Selene any different, just a little bit more. Brighter eyes and redder lips. Like she spent her days reading in the garden, instead of locked in rooms with little light. Like her nights were spent dreaming, instead of secreting herself away to learn magic inside of a mirror.
“There,” Gigi said when she was finished. “Go reunite with your childhood love.”
“He’s not my love,” Selene said, too loudly.
“Would it be so bad?” Gigi twirled a ribbon around her finger.
“Victor?” Selene laughed, remembering the boy she knew. “Yes.”
“Forget Victor, then. It could be anyone.”
“I’m here to win.” Selene slipped on her boots, despite the face Gigi made. “I don’t have time to fall in love.”
“Maybe you should make time.” Gigi was gentle. “Life is short. You’ll never regret the time you spent being loved.”
An ache permeated through Selene. She’d thought she was nothing more than her ambition. But there was a part of her that wondered. The way she felt around the ghost, the way she’d felt with Victor last night. There was something wonderful about it. She didn’t have to perform; she just had to be. Maybe when all this was over, she’d make time.
Chapter 27
Selene found Victor in the grand foyer. His trousers were dirty with horsehair and road dust. His hair was windswept, and his eyes were fever bright. Yet still he belonged among the golden statues and carved banisters and expansive ceiling. He was a handsome, confident man in a beautiful, opulent place. Some things never changed.
She walked soundlessly down the stairs. She caught her reflection in one of the many polished statues. What reflected back was a distortion, altered by the contours of the metal. She wondered what her life would have been, had she lived the last seven years with mirrors. Would she be as vain as Priya or as fearful as Gigi? Would her magic be sharpened by the frequent sight of her tableaux reflected back at her? Would her power be endless, with nearly seven years of shadow magic taught to her by the ghost trapped inside?
Victor busied himself with the contents of his pockets: a watch, a knife, a knot of string. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing him inside the opera house. Victor existed inside her mind, inside the palace, inside the life she’d been forced to leave behind. He was a fantasy, a ghost in his own right. One slip of light and he’d be gone.
She made a deliberate tap of her sole against the stair. Victor looked up sharply, tucking his collection of things back into his pocket.
“Miss Dreshé, how lovely to make your acquaintance again.” His smile was bright as the penny on his palm.
“Your Highness.” Selene dropped into a curtsy, leaning into the playful formality.
“None of that,” he said in mock offense. “We are old friends, remember? If I wanted bowing and scraping, I’d be in the court with my father, instead of here spending his money.”
Selene’s lips tipped into the barest smile. “How much money are we talking, Monsieur? That will impact the quality of my tour.”
“Victor, if you please,” he said. “His Majesty will be forced to do an honest day’s labor in order to make up the difference.”
“Then I shall show you every part of the theater, from the ballasts to the loo.”
“I’ve seen the loo, thank you.” He cleared his throat and gestured with a flair. “This is, as you know, the grand foyer.”
“I thought I was giving this tour.” Selene reclined on the banister.
