Finally, the curtains were pulled back, and dancers filled the stage, beginning the opening number. Their actions were controlled like pieces on a board. Nothing was out of place.
They moved throughout the music, their bodies portraying a story with grace and precision. Party guests, children, soldiers—characters I was unfamiliar with, but who Nikolai was trying to teach me about through his constantly whispered commentary. And though I could admit that they were impressive, I was utterly bored with it all.
Every second stretched my patience to a razor’s edge. My jaw ached, and my blood thundered. My mind refused to focus on the stage, drifting instead to her—her pink coat, her snow-dusted curls, the way her body had fit beneath mine, soft and unresisting. The knowledge that she was out of reach, untouched and unmarked, made me want to tear the world apart.
Eva.
Where was she? Why the fuck was I here?
Beside me, Nikolai was explaining how the main character was about to go on a journey through this wonderful world. He was clearly enjoying himself far too much, and for a moment, I imagined pushing him over the balcony ledge. It could look like an accident, the crack in his neck timed with the timpani drum, the applause drowning out the ringing in my ears.
A pleasant thought. I almost smiled, savoring it.
Too bad I actually liked him.
The scene shifted once again, music softening, the stage darkening. They were no longer at a party, but in a world of white. Flakes fell around a dancer in a sparkling tutu, glittering lights spreading across to reveal a corps de ballet fluttering around her. Their costumes caught the lights like frost, and I realized they were meant to be snowflakes—or snow fairies or whatever the hell Nikolai was telling me.
"This is the Land of Snow. The Snow Queen lives there with her fairies," he murmured. "There's the redhead!"
I barely heard him, my gaze sweeping over the quick dance without interest.
Until my heart stopped in my chest, my body chilling.
The back row. The closest side of the stage.
Her brown hair was pulled tightly into a bun, a miniature white crown pinned atop it, transforming her into the princess she was destined to be. She was smaller than the others, her movements softer and more precise. Her arms curved with grace, lips teetering on the edge of a smile.
My breath hitched. The stage lights caught her face as she turned, and for half a second, I saw her eyes.
Chocolate brown and utterly unmistakable.
Eva.
A smile curved the edges of my lips as I leaned forward and whispered, "Finally."
December 26th
Mia
How you feeling, bestie?
Evangeline
Mia!!!
We’re not supposed to have our phones backstage.
Mia
It’s intermission, Evie. And anyway, you’re clearly on your phone too.
Evangeline
Because I saw it light up!!
Mia
Well…
