“Come on,” Sunny presses. “You have to go.”
Before I can answer, Kat and Roxie step up to our table.
“Aw, not sure that’s in the cards, Sunny.” Roxie horns in, reaching across Sunny’s shoulder to grab the last bite of her muffin. “You have to earn outing passes by finishing your tasks for a full week. Remember how that works?”
“But maybe not in Rune’s case.” Kat practically purrs as she leans between me and Jax, her thick, caramel waves draping his left bicep. He shifts his chair closer to Audrey, leaving Kat’s hair hanging. Her jasmine-laced perfume settles over me. “Seems like our new soprano is exempt from all the rules. Considering how she got into the school without being evaluated . . . and how she penciled in her own job instead of getting her hands dirty with the ones we’ve always had to do . . . oh, and how she gets to audition for roles without ever having gone to rehearsals. She has an unfair advantage really, seeing as she was trained by the phantom himself. She brought him with her. Did you guys know that?”
My tongue dries. Looks like Kat was one of the students following us down the stairs yesterday when Mom mentioned my sighting. Great.
Sunny glares at Kat, but before she can say a word, Kat’s up and running again. “What do you think, Audrey? Looks like I finally have some real competition. Did you hear how Rune nailed that final note? It’s still ringing in the halls, pristine and clear as a bell.”
Audrey looks down at her plate, turning almost green. Without a word, she pushes her chair back and leaves.
Sunny’s cheeks puff as if she’s a blowfish about to pop, but Quan grabs her hand and gestures to Jax, who stands up to face his sister.
“What is your problem?” Jax snarls.
Roxanne pats some imaginary dust from his jacket lapel. “Come on, Jackio. Why should anyone get special treatment just because of who their aunt is?”
He squints. “Are you kidding me? Kat’s always getting breaks because she’s distantly related to Christina Nilsson. Did any of the other first-year students receive a formal invitation from that anonymous benefactor to enroll here last year?”
Both Kat and Roxie look at each other blankly, as if struck mute by his truth.
“Yeah, that’s right. Kat’s the queen of nepotism. Audrey’s the only one who’s ever actually had to work for this. Working two jobs. Fundraisers. Babysitting. No inheritance to throw away like the rest of us. So why don’t you just lay off her for once? Both of you.”
With that he turns and follows the trail Audrey took into the corridor, leaving me to stumble over his words as I stare openmouthed at Katarina.
Christina Nilsson. I ran across the name during my Phantom research online. That was the stage name for the real-life Swedish soprano—Kristina Jonasdotter—rumored to have inspired Gaston Leroux’s heroine. So that means Kat is practically related to Christina’s fictionalized counterpart, Christine Daaé. And she was invited here because of that relation, by a mysterious benefactor who no one has ever seen, but who redesigned this opera house. A reclusive architect, just like the phantom from the books.
Paired with all I’ve seen since I’ve been here, this can’t be a coincidence, and there’s no longer any doubt in my mind.
I am in a horror story.
Thorn adjusted his half-mask, hidden behind the mirrored wall that led to the grand foyer. The furred silhouette of gray at his feet rubbed his ankles—collar jingling softly—impatient to get the task underway.
The subtle droning of lectures drifted down from the third floor, where the juniors attended classes, and the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and buttery croissants indicated the seniors were still breakfasting in the atrium. All the teachers were preoccupied, as was Rune’s mother, which should’ve left the first floor abandoned and ripe for the plucking. But two students had just wandered down.
Audrey and Jackson. She was crying next to her dorm room door, and the boy was comforting her. Thorn had watched their dance long enough over the past year to know how deep their feelings ran. Long enough to know he envied them . . .
What would it have been like, to have such typical problems growing up? To have people your age to learn with, argue with, talk with?
Thorn sighed and bent down to pet Diable. The cat was a good friend, no question, but it wasn’t the same. It also wasn’t only Erik’s lifestyle to blame for Thorn’s isolation. Honestly, in the beginning, Thorn had been too fragile to be around anyone but the clandestine man who’d saved him.