Chapter Twelve Anya
I wake before my alarm, heart already fluttering like it knows something monumental is waiting for me. For a moment, I lie still, staring at the ceiling, then it hits me—dress rehearsal. Today. The realization sends a rush of energy through my body, and I’m out of bed before I can overthink it.
In the shower, my excitement gets the better of me.
The loofah slips from my fingers once, then again, bouncing against the tile as I laugh softly at myself.
I breathe in deeply, hoping the lavender bath gel will work its usual magic, but even its calming notes can’t slow my pulse.
My mind is already racing ahead, replaying music, counting steps, imagining the stage lights.
I know this is nothing compared to how I’ll feel on the day of the actual performance. That’s when the nerves will really take hold—when every movement will matter, and every breath will feel too shallow. But today? Today is different.
Today is about magic.
I rinse the soap from my skin and smile at my reflection through the fogged glass. For the first time, I’ll put on the Lilac Fairy’s costume—the flowing layers, the soft colors, the role I’ve dreamed of dancing. No matter what happens after, this moment is already perfect.
“Today is the big day!” Nadia calls out when I enter the kitchen. She has already prepared a light breakfast of syrniki for me. The pan-fried cakes made with farmer’s cheese sit easily on my nervous stomach, and they’ll give me the protein I need to get through the day.
“These are delicious,” I tell her as I take a bite.
“I know they’re your favorites. I’m so proud of you. Your father has promised that we’ll all have the opportunity to see your performance. He’s proud of you, too.”
I smile at the older woman. “I just wish Alexi were here to see it.”
“We all wish Alexi were here,” Nadia says, running her hand over my hair.
“Have you seen my father today?” I ask her.
“He was up at his usual time and is in his office. I will be taking him his coffee and breakfast in a few minutes,” Nadia says, gesturing toward the tray on the counter behind me. On the tray are a carafe of coffee, a covered dish, and a cup and saucer.
I finish eating and hop up. “I’ll take it to him,” I offer.
With great care, I carry the tray through the house and to my father’s study.
Balancing the tray, I knock sharply on the door.
I hide my grimace when Igor opens the door for me.
He scans me from head to toe before moving out of the way so I can enter.
My father is on the phone. He smiles at me as I lay the tray on his desk.
“You’re still alive? That’s great news. What happened?
Why did I hear that you were a victim of a hit?
” Alexandr asks, then pauses to hear the response.
“Is your father with you?” Another pause.
“I’m sorry to hear he couldn’t make it. I’ll be interested in hearing what you have to tell me.
If you could meet me at my home in three hours, you can join me for lunch. ”
He waits for a response before ending the call. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asks me as he offers his cheek for a kiss.
I oblige him before lifting the carafe to serve his coffee. “I just finished breakfast and wanted to see you before I left for practice.”
“Today is the big day?” he asks, his eyes full of pride and excitement. “The dress rehearsal. Are you nervous?”
“Very. I’m excited, too. I tried on the costume, but today I will become the Lilac Fairy.”
“You will be wonderful. I can’t wait to see your performance. I’ve told the staff that I will make sure they all get a chance to attend.”
I hug him. “I know, Nadia told me. Thank you. Who are you meeting for lunch?”
“Hmm? Oh, lunch. Vladimir Zoloth. He’s Maxim Zoloth’s son. He just arrived from New Orleans. I was expecting Maxim, but I’m glad Vladimir has come instead. Vladimir is one of the men I’m considering to take over the business. He’s brilliant.”
His words dampen some of my joy, but I shake it off. I’m not going to let anything spoil this day for me. Vladimir is a worry for my future, not my present.
“I’m leaving for my dress rehearsal now. I’ll be home for dinner,” I remind him.
“I’ll be here. Good luck today.” I lean over to accept his hug before kissing his cheek again.
I pick up my bag near the door where Nadia left it.
Outside, I find our car and driver waiting for me.
He pulls over behind the theater entrance and wishes me luck as I exit.
I thank him, but I’m distracted by the person waiting for me outside the stage door.
“Skylar! What are you doing here?” I ask, rushing forward to hug her.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I talked to the Artistic Director about filming segments of the dress rehearsal for my program. As long as I stay out of the way and don’t distract any of the performers.”
“Oh, that was nice of her,” I say, somewhat surprised that Madam Volkov agreed to Skylar’s request. She’s known to be militaristic in her protection of the performers, especially during the dress rehearsal.
“I can be very persuasive when I want something,” Skylar grins.
Inside the theater, I leave Skylar to her work while I make my way to my dressing room.
Before opening the door, I suck in a breath as I relish the feeling of my achievements.
This is the first time I’ve had a dressing room to myself.
I’m only a few steps away from the stage.
Elena, who is playing Aurora, is closer as is her right, but I’m as close to the pinnacle.
Breathing out the breath I’d been holding, I open the door and see it.
Hanging from the changing partition is the lovely costume that I’ll be wearing for the next two weeks.
The pancake tutu contains layers of lilac, soft pink, and icy blue.
Leaf-shaped appliqués rise to cover the bodice.
Rhinestones and silver filigree make the costume sparkle.
I let myself stare at it for a few moments longer as I imagine how I’ll appear onstage wearing it.
Finally, I shake myself from my daydream, close the door, and begin stripping.
Why should I just imagine how I’ll look when I can put it on and see for myself?
My fingers itch to put it on, but I remember that I need to apply my makeup first. After putting on a robe, I sit at the vanity.
I pull my hair into a basic bun, knowing others will add the finishing touches, including the tiara.
I have just finished putting on my makeup when there is a knock on the door.
I call out for them to enter. The wardrobe assistant enters to help me into my costume.
This is one of the moments that I’ve been dreaming of since learning I earned the part.
I remove my robe and toss it on the chair.
With great care, the assistant helps me step into the costume and then raises it.
In the full-length mirror, I watch myself transform from Anya Stepanov into The Lilac Fairy.
As I admire my reflection, the wardrobe assistant leaves to let the hairdresser in and add the finishing touches to my hair.
With the tiara in place, the transformation is complete.
I’m breathless as I stare at my reflection.
Movement at the door draws my attention.
I turn to see Skylar standing in the hall.
She’s holding her phone and recording me.
Tears fill her eyes as her voice cracks with emotion as she describes my costume and the role I’ll be playing.
I wave my hands in front of my face to keep from crying. I’ve never been this emotional before. Madame Volkov’s voice calls out for us to take our places. Dress rehearsal has begun.
From my place at the edge of the stage, I feel the warmth of the footlights bloom against my skin as the court gathered in a swirl of gold brocade and fluttering ribbons.
The music lifted—light, ceremonial—as I moved forward with the serene grace the role demanded, offering my blessing to the infant princess cradled at center stage.
Around me, the other fairies sparkle through their variations, each blessing unfolding like a jeweled petal, but I keep my focus steady, my breath timed to the orchestra’s rise.
Beneath my calm smile, I register every detail: the precise spacing of the courtiers, the faint rustle of tutus brushing the floor, the anticipation humming through the wings.
I know what is coming—the sudden darkening, the jolt of Carabosse’s entrance—and I hold my wand lightly, ready to answer chaos with measured, commanding light.
As the music unfurled its gentle waltz, I let my breath settle into the rhythm, my arms sweeping through soft port de bras that feels like warm light spilling from my fingertips.
I float forward in an arabesque voyage, wand extended, the tutu whispering around my hips as my pas de bourrée couru carries me across the stage.
A controlled développé blossomed at my side, steady despite the heat of the lights, then a chassé lifts me into a grand jeté that lands like a sigh.
I turn inward—one slow pirouette en dedans—and pose, serene, before gliding through a balancé that lets my body sway with the music’s pulse.
My final promenade in attitude feels weightless, as if the blessing I offer truly softens the air, and then I ride a sweep of waltz turns down the diagonal, every movement a promise of protection.
Madame Volkov claps to gain everyone’s attention.
Those not in the final scene join us on stage.
“Not bad, not bad,” Madame Volkov says. “However…” she proceeds to critique the performers, including Elena and me.
However, even her comments, delivered in her usual clinical, cold tone, can’t diminish my confidence.
While my performance may not have been perfect, I felt as if it was one of my best. That feeling intensifies when I spot Skylar in the audience; she’s beaming at me.
A movement at the lobby doors draws my attention, but when I don’t see anyone enter, I assume it was my imagination.
Reluctantly, I change back into my street clothes while Skylar sits at my vanity chattering. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you. You looked like you were flying across the stage. Like a real fairy.”
I chuckle at her enthusiasm as I lift my bag and gesture for her to exit my dressing room. “Did you get enough footage for your episode?”
“More than enough. I need to get back to the hotel and edit it, but I have time. I promised your Madame Volkov that I wouldn’t post anything until after Opening Night.”
“I still can’t believe she let you attend the Dress Rehearsal,” I muse. “She’s kind of a stickler for tradition.”
“I told her that I was focused on you,” Skylar says with a shrug. “She likes you. Besides, it turns out that she’s a fan of my show.”
When we exit the theater, I search for my driver instead of paying attention to my surroundings. Skylar screams as rough hands grab me and pull me toward a waiting van.