A blast of icy wind greeted her as she opened the door, setting her bag upon the snow-dusted sidewalk.
There’s only one way we’re going to make it, she coaxed her wolf.Fancy a run instead of a snack?
You know how much Ihateshifting when you’ve taken a veiling potion. This color looks terrible on us,the creature huffed, but obeyed.
Mireille’s limbs lengthened, muscles stretching and bones popping, her clothes transforming into sable fur streaked through with hints of copper. She reached down, cradling the bag gently in her thick fangs, then sprinted around a corner onto the main avenue and headed for the Grand Ethyrian Theater.
Toward her second performance of the day.
The audience explodedinto thunderous applause following Mireille’s final solo.
She could barely see beyond the edge of the stage, blinded by the lights beaming down from the rafters.
Her false lashes fluttered in her peripheral vision and her pancake make-up cracked as she held yet another broad, aching smile.
She knew she’d been perfect. Flawless. As always. She practiced longer and more often than any other dancer in the company, even with her other job taking up so much of her time.
But one didn’t become the prima ballerina of the Kheimos Company, the most revered in Ethyrios outside of the Imperial Ballet in Delos, without a rigorous and unwavering dedication to the craft.
She flicked her gaze up to the front box at the right of the stage. It was dark and empty. As it had been for every single one of her thousands of performances.
She sighed, shaking off her disappointment and waving to her adoring fans. The burgundy curtain lowered, the clapping and shouting muffled beyond the heavy velvet.
“Brilliant, as always.” Juliet, a sly-faced Windrider with butter-yellow wings, sauntered up to grip Mireille’s hand. “You bitch.”
Mireille snorted a laugh.
“No show again?” The young chorus member’s voice softened.
She didn’t bother answering Juliet, who read the truth in Mireille’s silence.
“He’ll show up one of these days, Mireille. Don’t lose hope.”
The kindness and sympathy lacing Juliet’s normally sarcastic tone had Mireille on the verge of tears. So she did what any normal, well-adjusted individual would do in that situation.
She turned and fled.
Juliet followed. “What are you going to do after next week when the run is over?”
Other company members and stagehands offered salutes and claps. Mireille acknowledged them with curt nods, but her smile never reappeared. That rare sight was reserved for the audience—and her marks.
“I have plans.” Mireille added enough bite to offer Juliet a hint, but as she turned the corner to her dressing room, the young dancer followed.
“Liar,” Juliet smirked. “I thought maybe you’d finally deign to practice with me. Maybe even take me out to lunch on your superstar salary.”
Mireille paused before her door, and Juliet took the opening.
“There’s this new restaurant that just opened a few blocks away. Rishi’s? Yogi’s? Rogie’s?” Juliet snickered. “I can never remember what it’s called. The chef came to Kheimos from some coastal village in Brachos. She serves these bold uncooked fish dishes I’ve been dying to try. Figured if anyone in this company would enjoy eating raw flesh, it would be you.”
Mireille laughed despite herself. And a small, shriveled part of her wanted nothing more than to take Juliet up on her offer. Out of all the dancers, she felt a kinship with Juliet. The Windrider’s snark rivaled even that of Mireille’s wolf. And Juliet took less shit from anyone other than Mireille herself.
But Mireille didn’t dofriends.
She attempted to will Juliet away with a glare. She was sweaty, her make-up itched, and her hair was too tight against her scalp; she’d been hurried when she’d pinned it up earlier.All she wanted to do was strip off her costume, return to her apartment, and take a long, hot bath.
“I’ll think about it.”
Juliet shook her head. “You’ve been giving me that answer for nearly as long as that box has been empty.” Mireille stiffened. “Not everyone you let in is going to abandon you.”
