The scene ended, and we all danced offstage. I needed to go change my costume, but instead of going with the other girls, I hesitated in the darkness of the wings. My sweating fingers clutched at the basket handle, and I stepped as close to the stage as I dared go without being seen by the audience. The Regent’s colors hung below the railing, as they always did. The box itself was dark, but a single gloved hand rested on the railing. Why were they watching me? What did they intend to do?
Fingers dug into my elbow, pulling me back. “What are you doing?” Sabine hissed. “You need to change.”
I let her lead me backstage.
“You’re sweating like a pig,” she informed me, wrinkling her nose as she unfastened the merchant costume’s buttons.
“Pigs don’t sweat,” I said absently, barely noticing as she rolled her eyes. I needed to see who was in those seats. I was certain it was her, but I needed to be sure. And if it was her, then what? Confront her? No. Whether I was right or wrong about her association with Anushka, that wouldn’t go well for me.
“Did you mean it?”
Sabine was fussing with my skirt, only the top of her head visible. “Pardon?”
“What you said to your mother, did you mean it?”
There was an intensity in her voice that told me it wasn’t an idle question. I bit down on the inside of my cheeks. Had I meant it? Part of me screamed that it didn’t matter – there was the accomplice to a five hundred year-old murderer sitting in the wings watching me. But a bigger part of me refused to let fear rule my actions. “I meant it,” I said, wiping my hands on my skirts. “If she fires you, I’ll quit.”
“But she’s your mother.” I could only see the top of her head, but I knew her well enough to know that she was shaken.
“Only when it’s convenient for her,” I said, catching one of her gold curls with my finger. “And you’ve always been my best friend. I understand why you did what you did, Sabine. But I need you to understand that I need to do this.”
We stood quietly together for a moment before Sabine whispered, “You should go.” She didn’t look up, and I knew she wouldn’t, so I left.
The rest of the performance was an exercise in torture. I made countless little mistakes, and my eyes kept drifting to the box. I felt on display. Vulnerable. But there was no denying the anticipation in my heart. I needed to see who was in those seats. I would have one good opportunity to get a glimpse when we took our bows at the end of the performance, one moment when I could stare out into the audience without reproach.
The wait seemed interminable, but finally the curtain fell with my mother feigning death in Julian’s arms. I stood in the wings, my heart beating faster and faster. The trepidation wasn’t all my own – something was happening to Tristan, but I couldn’t think about him now. I would only have one chance, and I didn’t dare miss it. The other girls were whispering, but I barely heard them. The audience was cheering, shouting my mother’s name. They were on their feet. The other girls of the chorus ran forward, and I went with them. Would it be her I saw? Did I want it to be?
Stopping in my appointed spot, I took the hands of the girls to either side and dropped into a deep curtsey. We rose and stepped back. I looked up.
The Regent’s box was empty. Whoever had been there was gone.
Eighteen
Tristan
The Guerre boards dropped to the ground, and I threw up a shield to block the flying glass. My aunt did the same, attempting to protect my mother, but it was a wasted effort. The magic that had shattered the mirrors was stronger, and the outward force coming from my mother tossed aside my aunt’s magic with ease. Razor-sharp shards cut into my mother’s skin and shredded her clothes, but she barely seemed to notice. Her face was slick with blood and contorted with irrational fury, the like of which I had only seen before on Roland. The comparison terrified me, because it meant that she couldn’t be reasoned with. Only force would stop her.
Motion in my peripheral vision caught my attention. élise stood in the open doorway, a tray of food lying in disarray at her feet. “Move!” I shouted, but it was too late. My mother had already rounded on her, eyes seeing yet unseeing.
I leapt between the two, the blow directed at the half-blood girl making my shield quake and sending me staggering back. I collided with élise, and both of us tumbled into the hallway. A second later, another blow impacted the walls, only the thousand years of magic layering them keeping everything from collapsing down on top of us.
I clambered to my feet, hauling élise up with me. “Run,” I ordered her. “Find my father and tell him what’s happening.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop her.”