She shrugged with a wry smile. “What else would I do with myself?”
Then Philippe Rousseau turned that soul-deep gaze on me. “You’re new?” He smiled and offered a little nod of welcome.
Breathe. Steady. Keep breathing.
“I’ve not seen you before.”
Tell him. Justtellhim! I opened my mouth, but no sound came.
He shifted, smoldering eyes intense, as if prepared to hang on my every word. “I assume you’re dancing at Craven this season.”
“Ahemafle—” My tongue caught. Words halted. Mind froze.
His smile flickered. “Well, then. Welcome to our little family.” With another nod of his dark head, he swept past and hailed an older man coming in.
I gushed out a sigh, blowing hair off my face, and leaned my back into the barre. Of course he wouldn’t know me. I had been a mere fifteen when we’d danced in that creaky old room in the theater wing. I’d gone from a girl, a washerwoman inpatched clothing, to a trained ballerina in full costume. A fine one I turned out to be too. I cringed at the nonsensical syllables that had just come from my lips.
Minna’s pinched little smile and sparkling eyes turned on my misery. “Rather agreeable, is he not?”
I steeled against her amusement. “I’m here to dance, not make a match.” Yet Philippe Rousseau wasn’t just any match. That lovely moment between us years ago had been knit into my beauty-loving heart, and I knew—much as I knew my paces—that he was different. I stole a glance at his back, and after a moment he turned to look at me too—just for a brief second, but I saw it. A fleeting smile, then he turned. Perhaps hedidknow. Insufferable man.
“That’s perfect then, because he isn’t in the market.” She nearly always smiled as she spoke, this Minna creature. I wondered again if I was friend or rival to her.
“Perhaps he simply hasn’t found what he’s searching for, and he won’t settle for less.”
He strode among the dancers yet somehow floated above them, too, as if nothing they said or did could truly ruffle him.
“Many have tried, but he’s as closed as a stone-hewn wall.”
“Except with her.” I said it with hushed surprise. He now hovered near the west wall with a most stunning dancer, leaning close for a private conversation. Where hadshecome from? At a distance, the woman’s features were not striking or even particularly attractive, but with her aura of exquisite grace, no one could call her anything but beautiful. Not a movement or smile was wasted, and everything contributed to the feeling of art on display.
Minna laughed. “She’s not a woman, she’s a legend—Annika Friedl, principal ballerina. Besides, they are always together.One cannot avoid growing close with one’s dancing partner, now, can he?”
There was a remarkable intimacy between them. I watched the pair moving in tandem with long strides as they left their corner and wondered justhowclose they’d grown. “One day that’ll be me.” I gripped the barre—had I said that aloud? I’d only halfway meant it.
Minna’s features hardened. “So says the girl who’s afraid of men.”
Rival. Definitely rival. “Perhaps I simply haven’t need of one. Some dancers are fully able to climb on their own merits.”
Her mouth pinched. Before she could respond, a bell clanged and a flurry of tulle and satin erupted like a feathery dovecote as the dancers bounded for the door. Had it already reached nine in the evening? I hurried out with them, funneling into the narrow sconce-lit corridor that I felt I knew so well from Mama’s descriptions, even though I’d scarcely been in it.
Like a medieval castle, the corridor meandered in a long, shadowy column behind the stage, the greenroom at one end and the enchanted materials room, I knew, at the other. I paced toward that old room, wondering if it was the same. That dance ... ah, the dance. I would never forget the evening encounter there. In the dimness I glanced up from beneath lowered lashes, looking for the face that had remained in my mind for years.Please, please let me run into him again. I just need another chance.
But then the corridor opened into a great palace of an auditorium, a gleaming, gilded openness, and I forgot everything except what my eyes were taking in. I’d never seen it from the stage. Rows of perfect blue-velvet seats and gold trim reached high into the balconies, where everything glistened with freshoil, reflecting every trace of light. The largeness hit me in the chest, weighing on me with awe. To be surrounded by it, in the very heart of such immensity—I felt small, but part of something grand.
Great chandeliers were held up by cherubs on the balconies, each with no less than twenty ivory candles, and I nearly expected to hear angels singing hallelujah in the rafters. Muted gaslight sconces lay flush against ivory walls, casting soft shadows. It was so perfect, so very—
Oof.A spindly body collided into my side. I felt a tug at my waist, and a sudden release as my sash was loosed. I spun, shocked. Before I could place who had snitched it, the culprit went down, Minna standing over her. “Keep your hands off, you hear?”
Friendandrival. Was that even possible?
A little stick of a girl dressed in a dirty tulle practice skirt cowered in the shadows, clutching my rose-colored sash in her grimy hands. Her large dark eyes shone with fear, and the sight melted something crucial within me. They truly werepetits rats,these little child dancers, desperate and scrambling for crumbs.
I reached for the sash, and she fell back as if I would hit her when I took it, eyes wide. “Je suis désolé. Je suisdésolé.”
I ignored the apology and crouched before her, fingering the satin from Mama. “Come, let me show you.” I twisted and wound the fabric as she watched, her spider arms braced against the floor, ready to propel her away.
She blinked, fear turning to wonder as the satin bunched into lovely, layered rosettes.
