Anders stepped closer to her, inhaling her orange blossom scent. “May I? It was more like…” He took hold of her locket and lifted it to the corresponding sunburst marker on the frame. “This.”
The glass vanished, along with their reflections, and the stone staircase was revealed once more. Livia gasped aloud, and Isadora took a step back, catching Anders’ elbow and staggering into his arms.
Her expression was sheepish. “My apologies.”
He smiled as he righted her. “Not to worry. We should hurry, I’m not sure if the others will wait.”
“The others?”
“I’ll show you. I have to use my magic though. Don’t be alarmed. I can’t risk being seen.” He held out the palm of his hand and let his shadows gather and swirl around his wrist. This time it was Isadora’s turn to gasp, and Livia’s hand flew to her mouth.
“You’re a shadow conjuror?” Isadora asked, her voice low.
“I am.” Anders nodded, readying himself for the horror and disgust he knew would come.
“Is that how you got into the theatre that night?”
He hesitated. “Um. Yes. I was going to purchase a ticket, but I gave my last few coins to some hungry children. I never meant any harm.”
Isadora raised an eyebrow. “Why were you there, then?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Asterina and Cethin is my favourite ballet.”
Livia beamed. “It’s mine, too.”
“You know the tale of Asterina and Cethin?” Isadora asked, surprised.
“Yes, although the story is slightly different in the north.”
She tilted her head. “I can imagine. Our version doesn’t paint Cethin in the best light.”
“Well, our version doesn’t exactly paint Asterina as an innocent victim, so we’re even.” He shrugged apologetically.
“As much as I’m enjoying this back and forth between you two,” Livia chimed in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can I see the shadows again? Please.” She added the last part on catching sight of her sister’s appalled expression.
Anders nodded, lip twitching. “Of course.” With a flick of his wrist, he threw his shadows up and cloaked himself entirely in them. Livia shrieked with joy and clapped her hands; Isadorajust watched, a curious look on her face. Anders would have given anything to know what she was thinking in that moment.
“Come on, we need to get going or we’ll miss the boats,” he said.
In unison, the Princesses asked, “Boats?”
Anders led Isadora and Livia down the stone steps to the waterfront, where the other ten dancers from their ballet company sat motionless inside their one-man vessels. It occurred to Anders that the other dancers didn’t enter the enchanted world via the mirror in the Princesses chambers, so how did they come to be here each night? Were there other entrances?
He climbed into Isadora’s boat and they instantly began to glide towards the ominous castle on the other side.
“This is beyond anything I could have imagined,” Isadora breathed, looking around at the lantern-lit boats drifting across the glassy surface of the water, at the dark spires and turrets that stretched up to the midnight-blue sky, and the low, heavy moon that bathed the entire scene in silver light.
“Me too.” His voice came out low and rough. He knew she couldn’t see him beneath his shadows, and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since they’d sat down. The look of wonderment as she took in every detail of this strange, magical place, and the bright, monochromatic light of the moon, made Isadora appear ethereal. As though she were lit from within. She was sea salt and starlight, and whichever suitor she chose to marry would be a very lucky man indeed.
They may have gotten off to a bad start, but perhaps if he told her the truth. Told her who he really was…
Their knees bumped together and Anders almost reached for her hand, but the boat stopped abruptly and he was forced to grip the sides instead.
He cleared his throat. “Here we are. I’ll be right by your side all night, but it might attract unwanted attention if you speak to me, so try to be subtle if you do.”
Isadora nodded as she climbed out of the little boat and followed the other dancers up the steps and into the castle.
Anders narrowed his eyes at the metallic, glittering trees that surrounded the base of the castle. Another memory clicked into place. The twig he’d found on his bedroom carpet that morning; it had come from one of these trees. It hadn’t been a clue planted by a helpful bystander, he himself had brought it back from this obsidian castle.
