Chapter 33
Selene waited until Victor left through the great doors and rode down the street.
She didn’t have a plan. All she had was the glass rose and a way in.
She gathered her sheet music and the box, desperation clinging to her skin.
This had to work. She could throw together another song, but it would pale in comparison to what she had written with him.
That was a remarkable piece. Anything else would be less. She couldn’t take the risk.
She used the trick with the hinges on the first door and then again on the second.
Victor served his purpose. With the box held against her chest, she tried not to linger on the memory of his skin and the softness of his mouth.
She could give this up. She could give up anything if it meant winning.
She’d already lost so much in pursuit of her art.
The shadow boat took her across the water.
This might be the last time she’d trace through these arches, the last time she’d see herself in the dark water.
The mirror reflected the phosphorescence in all its glory.
This was the moment, her triumphant return.
Selene stuck her finger with a pin and placed it against the mirror, bracing herself, the box pressed tightly against her chest.
Nothing happened.
“Please,” she said. She pricked her finger again and again, squeezing out more blood. It smeared against the glass as if this was just a mirror. As if it didn’t matter at all.
“He was a dream,” she said. “I give him up.”
And maybe it was the race of her traitorous heart. Maybe it was the barest hint of hesitation she’d felt when she first thought of the rose. Maybe it was the taste of Victor still on her lips.
The mirror did not give way.
The ghost sang from its depths, mournful and sweet. An apology. Selene thought to write it down, but the sound was strangled, muffled and far away. Like something was holding him back.
“I’ll find a way,” she promised.
But she already felt like a liar. And she was running out of time.
She shut the door behind her, returning the hinges as if they’d never been removed.
Selene was halfway to the stairs, weaving between the set pieces, when she felt a presence.
Not a ghost—she wished it were a ghost. This was so much worse.
In her haste, she’d been careless and now she was caught. She turned around, bracing herself.
Gigi stood behind her. Cat’s countenance, dancer’s delicate steps, like her mother. Her eyes were wide with shock. Her dancer’s feet moved with a skilled silence. “So this is where you’ve been going.”
Selene was breathless. So close to being caught. “You’re speaking to me now?”
“I was never not speaking to you.” Gigi moved in tendu.
“You moved out of our room without telling me.”
“Thought you’d be happy it was clean.” Gigi smiled weakly.
“I thought we were in this together.”
“We are.” Gigi popped onto her toes. “We were. I know you’re keeping secrets, Selene.”
Selene went cold. The door—expertly locked—to the underground lake and the mirror beyond was mere feet away, guarding the lion’s share of her secrets. She could tell Gigi, but then what? Gigi was afraid of the ghost. Who knew what she would do?
Selene opened her mouth, searching for some lie, some near truth she could offer.
Gigi took a step forward. “You’re going to tell me everything, but not yet. I have something to say first.”
“Gigi, I—”
Gigi held up a finger. “I quit this morning.”
Selene’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“I formally pulled my name from the competition. Or tried to.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because none of this matters to me. This isn’t my dream. I don’t want to be the King’s Mage. I don’t want to be a magician at all. I just want to be”—she cleared her throat—“wanted to be with Benson and with you and with my mother. And I realize now how foolish that all was.”
“We’re so close. How could you—”
“She wouldn’t let me,” Gigi said. “Madame said it wasn’t safe for me to go yet.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You said we were like lambs to the slaughter. Everything that’s gone wrong—the razors, the stolen music, the glassed berries—it’s to get us out. To save us from something worse. You have to go, Selene. You have to go while there’s a chance.”
Selene pushed her hair back, trying to carry the weight of this information. “Why put in all the time and effort to train us? Why make us the best only to have us gutter out into nothing?”
“There’s someone else pulling the strings.”
“We don’t have time for this. The competition is tomorrow. We have to prepare.”
Gigi’s smile was resigned. “I’m not here to win, Selene.”
And yet Gigi could win, like the twist of a knife. She didn’t even want it.
“So you’re just going to blow it off ?” Selene tried to keep her words measured.
“Losing Benson changed things for me. I have no choice but to perform, but I’m not going to win. There’s more to life than this.”
Selene swallowed. In a beat, Gigi’s dream had changed.
Benson was the catalyst, a death of a dream.
It seemed wrong to use his madness as a tool to further her own goals, but what choice did she have?
He had said that it had to be one of them.
Now that Gigi was out of the running, there was only Selene.
“Not for me.”
“You’re not listening to me.” Gigi threw up her hands and let them fall.
“I am listening.” She wondered what it would take. Some of his music, a drop of his blood, a scrap of his clothes. She would take whatever she could. Selene had to go to the Asylum. It was too late in the day now. But tomorrow. She could make this work.
“Then go. Some place, any place else. Whatever comes next, it isn’t what we thought.”
“You know I can’t.” She punctuated every word. How could Gigi expect Selene to give up everything she worked for?
Anguish and frustration lit Gigi’s face. “Come on, Selene. There has to be more for you.”
“Nothing else matters! Not you, not Benson, not Victor.” Selene felt her voice hitch, felt the scrape of her vocal cords. She had to relax, had to preserve her voice. “I don’t have a life to go back to. I have music and magic, that is all.”
“You had me.” There were tears in Gigi’s eyes. “Until you decided to keep secrets.”
“Half of my life is a secret, Gigi. You wouldn’t even begin to understand.”
“You’re right about that.” For once, Gigi was still. For once, she stood like a normal girl instead of moving through the steps of some invisible dance. “Whatever happens next, I hope you have the life you deserve.”
Selene couldn’t stay here any longer. She tore up the stairs and into her room, hoping to find solace in the clean, quiet space.
But the room seemed wrong: too big, too empty.
The cavernous expanse of the walls felt ruinous, the floor’s echoing steps didn’t sound like hers.
It didn’t belong to her anymore. Soon some other girls would share the space and stay late into the night talking about their precious, fragile dreams. Selene wished she could crush them.
She wanted to tell those girls that days turn to nights and nights turn to dawns and nothing stays as it should be.
Selene took the extra sheet music and settled into her practice room, waiting for the halls to quiet so she could slink back to the mirror. Waiting, while her fingers made war with the piano and she tried to string together notes into music. Waiting, as if she had any time at all left.