Chapter Two Anya
The studio smells faintly of resin and effort.
I force my breath to stay even as I rise onto pointe, arms sweeping into a soft arc overhead.
The pianist plays the familiar phrase again—delicate, lilting, the variation I’ve practiced a thousand times—and I will my body to follow it with flawless precision.
Today matters. Casting for The Sleeping Beauty will be announced before lunchtime.
“Aurora or Lilac,” I whisper to myself. “Just… please.”
Beside me, Katya drops out of a pirouette with a small grimace. “Your balances are unreal today,” she mutters, brushing sweaty wisps of hair from her forehead. “If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you.”
I offer a tight smile. “I’m too nervous to wobble.”
“You want Aurora,” she teases, nudging my shoulder. “Everyone knows it.”
“I’d be happy with Lilac too,” I admit. “She’s the one who holds everything together. She’s…” I search for the right word. “Powerful.”
Katya laughs. “Look at you pretending to be humble.”
Before I can answer, the pianist’s music cuts off abruptly. The studio door opens, and Madam Volkov steps inside with the quiet authority that makes the whole room straighten as if she’s pulling strings.
Our artistic director—impeccable bun, sharp eyes, posture like carved marble—holds a clipboard against her chest. A ripple of whispers moves through the dancers.
“Oh God,” Katya breathes. “This is it.”
My mouth goes dry. Sweat cools at the back of my neck.
Madam Volkov surveys us with one sweeping glance.
“Ladies. Gentlemen. Thank you for your work this morning.” Her voice is petal-soft but impossible to ignore.
“As you know, we will soon begin rehearsals for our production of The Sleeping Beauty. I will now announce the principal and featured roles.”
Someone squeaks. Someone else prays under their breath.
“Princess Aurora,” Madam Volkov says, pausing just long enough to make my heart ache, “will be danced by… Elena Sidorova.”
The studio rustles as Elena covers her mouth with shaking hands. I clap because I should, even though disappointment stings deep in my chest. Elena was brilliant—of course, she was—but it still hurts.
Katya nudges me, gentler this time. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say. “Really.”
Madam Volkov continues—the prince, the fairies, the corps assignments—her voice steady and serene. Then she lifts her chin, and her eyes land on me with surprising warmth.
“And the role of The Lilac Fairy,” she announces, “will be danced by Anya Stepanov.”
For a heartbeat, all sound disappears. The floor feels unsteady beneath me.
Katya squeals and grabs my arm. “Anya! Anya! You got it!”
“I—” My voice breaks. I manage a shaky bow toward Madam Volkov. “Thank you, Madam. I won’t disappoint you.”
“I trust you won’t,” she says, giving me a rare smile. “Rehearsals begin tomorrow. Be prepared.”
She leaves the room as quietly as she entered, and suddenly the studio erupts—cheers, hugs, congratulations, the air crackling with excitement.
I stand in the middle of it all, heart pounding so hard I think everyone must hear it.
Lilac Fairy.
Not Aurora. Something steadier. Stronger. A guiding light.
And it’s mine.
Katya slings an arm around my shoulders and grins. “Looks like you get to be powerful after all.”
A laugh escapes me, bright and breathless. “Looks like I do.”
I’m floating as I gather my things and walk outside with Katya. She waves as she heads to the bus stop while I move toward the black sedan idling nearby.
“How was practice, Miss Anya?” Kurik greets me as he holds the rear-passenger door open so I can slide inside.
“It was wonderful, Kurik. Do you know if my father is home?” I beam at him.
“He was there when I left. He is going out to dinner later,” Kurik informs me as he closes my door and slides behind the wheel.
I’m giddy all the way home. I can’t wait to tell my father about my success in capturing the role of the Lilac Fairy, all those years of practice finally paying off.
If I do well, I could capture the attention of scouts from a touring company.
The thought of travelling the world and performing in London, France, or New York thrills me to the core.
This has always been my dream. Playing the role of the Lilac Fairy is my chance to achieve my greatest dream.
I nibble on my bottom lip as I consider my father’s reaction if I were to earn a spot.
My father is an important and wealthy man in Russia.
He’s always been overly protective of me.
He believes my wish to tread the boards of famous theaters throughout the world is nothing more than a child’s dream.
I’m certain my father thinks that I’ll remain in St. Petersburg and eventually give up dancing to get married and produce children.
But that’s not what I want. I want so much more.
Kurik stops the car outside the front door of our townhouse.
Years of training taught me to wait for him to open my car door and assist me out of the vehicle.
Even though I’m more than capable of doing it myself.
Manners are second nature to me after two decades of intense training by nannies and governesses.
Once inside our grand home, I pass through the entryway and head for my father’s study.
This is where he’s most likely to be this time of day.
I hear voices as I approach, so I slow my pace.
However, when I see that the door is open, I push my way in to find my father talking with Igor, his right-hand man.
I ignore Igor as I circle Father’s desk to kiss his cheek.
“I have some wonderful news,” I gush, unable to keep my excitement bottled up. “I got the role of the Lilac Fairy in Sleeping Beauty. This is my most prestigious role to date!”
“Congratulations, my beautiful girl!” my father says, beaming at me. “All of your hard work has paid off. I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I smile back at him. I glance at Igor to find him watching me. The usual predatory look in his eyes always makes me edgy. Today, however, he is glaring at me as if I’ve committed a fatal sin. I let out a small gasp as I snap my eyes away from him to focus on my father.
“When is the first performance?”
I give him the dates, and I see him frown when he realizes my performances will overlap with his birthday celebration.
“I’ve already checked, and I will not be performing the night of your birthday.
If you want, I can get you tickets to bring your friends to see the performance.
” My father’s celebrating his sixty-fifth birthday.
It is usually a grand celebration, but I had wondered if he would celebrate this year.
My eldest brother, Alexi, has been missing for several months.
Somehow, he was conscripted into the Russian Army to fight against Ukraine.
My father had thought he had protected Alexi from the draft, but somehow Alexi disappeared into the Russian Army.
Losing Alexi sent my father into a great depression.
I thought he’d never resurface. However, when I reminded him of his birthday, he reluctantly agreed to hold a celebration.
I’ve been happy watching him grow more and more excited about it.
“Yes, yes, I want everyone to see you perform. You don’t have to get me tickets. I own a box, remember?”
Chuckling, I lean against his desk. “I forgot. I’m just so excited that I can’t think of anything else.”
“There is something you’ll need to focus on between now and the party,” my father says. “Take a seat.” He gestures toward the visitors’ chairs opposite him. I slide into the one furthest from Igor before focusing on my father.
The flash of pain across his features tells me he’s about to bring up Alexi.
Pain squeezes my heart in anticipation of more bad news.
“Have you heard something about Alexi?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
My father told me that Alexi enlisted in the army and died while fighting in Ukraine.
However, I don’t believe it. Alexi would never have enlisted.
He believed Russia shouldn’t be fighting Ukraine.
I think something else happened. I also don’t know if I believe Alexi is dead.
“No. I have not, but that is what I need to discuss with you. With Alexi’s death, I need to consider my options for who will take over the business when I’m no longer able,” he says, holding his hand up to stop me from protesting.
He knows me too well. I hate when he talks about slowing down.
The topic always makes me sad, especially after losing Alexi.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere for a long time.
Relax, my beautiful girl. However, I need to find a successor now so I can train him. ”
“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” I admit, ruefully. “Do you know who you are going to select?”
“No, not yet. I’ve identified three potential candidates. Oleg Petrov, Pavel Nazarov, and Artem Sorokin. I’m planning a dinner party and will invite them and their families. I won’t be making the final decision until the night of my party.”
“I understand, you want me to play hostess at the party?” I ask. Hostessing is a role that I often play since my mother’s death ten years ago.
“Yes, I need you to perform the duties of a hostess, but that’s not all. The business must stay within the family. Alexi would have inherited, but with his death, that leaves you.”
“Me?” I ask. All the happiness from earning the coveted role has deserted me. “I don’t understand. You want me to take over…” I don’t finish because my father is shaking his head.
“No, I don’t want you to take over the business. It is not a woman's role. I will select one of the men I mentioned. Whoever I select will become your husband.”