Kaz chuckles. “It’s funny to hear you assume Mr Bailey is innocent. Perhaps you’ll feel differently after you’ve seen what it is we’re stealing.”
“We’ll see,” I huff, smoothing the wrinkles out of my tutu. “I’m ready for my dance now.”
Kasimir offers me a smile before gesturing to the door. “Your stage awaits you.”
15
AMARYLLIS
When Mr Bailey said he’d prepared a stage, I wasn’t expecting much. After all, the man owns a tavern, not a theatre.
Still, I was expectingsomething– perhaps a raised platform, or maybe even a fenced-off area surrounded by chairs.
Nope.
Clearly my expectations were far too high, as his ‘stage’ consists of a few long wooden tables that have been tied together with rope and pushed to the far corner of the tavern.
By the time I arrive, there’s already a large crowd beginning to form. The men at the front are probably close enough to grab my ankles if I dance too near the edge. A shiver runs through me at the thought. I’ll have to make sure I don’t step too close.
“Gentlemen of Bailey's Tavern,” Mr Bailey announces while I try my best to climb gracefully onto a table. “Please may I present to you, Miss Scarlett Diosa.”
I take my starting position, tucking my hands to my chest and raising my chin high. Beneath me, the tables shake as those near the front pound their fists against the wood, while the rest of my audience whoop and cheer.
It’s strange. I suppose I should be feeling scared. Aside from Father, or the occasional lucky guard, no one other than my sisters has ever watched me dance. And yet here I am, with nothing but excitement pulsing through my bones, as if I’m about to perform on a real stage in a glittering theatre, miles away from any grimy tavern tables.
My breath stills. The cheers and pounding quieten. And with the first trill of the piano, I’m away – exhaling as I lose myself in a flurry of delicate pointe work and sweeping arabesques.
I’ve danced this variation many times before. It’s from one of my favourite ballets –Giselle.
The music starts slow, allowing me a moment of pause after each intricate step or turn. I use it to smile into the crowd, batting my eyes towards members of the audience, just as Giselle would as she waltzes around her village.
Then the music quickens, along with my steps. Each pirouette sends my skirt fanning out around me, while each leap earns me another cheer from the crowd.
As the song continues, I can’t help but lose myself. The wooden beams of the tavern sprout leaves as they morph into trees. The walls fall away to become cottages. Even the hungry eyes of my audience fade into the innocent smiles of villagers.
I am no longer in Night Alley.
I am Giselle. Stepping. Turning. Spinning, as I dance endlessly around my quaint village.
The final steps are the hardest. Quick, delicate piqué turns, over and over again, in a full circle around the stage. Normally I would struggle, but tonight my feet move for me – twisting and flicking, twisting and flicking – until finally I sweep up my arms before dramatically dropping into my finishing pose.
My chest heaves.
Slowly, the bright woodland village transforms back into the old tavern. Shrubs turn into tables as the woodcutter’s cottagemorphs back to a bar. But it’s only as my gaze drops to the audience that the haze fully clears, and I realise the music has long since been drowned out by thunderous applause.
“Bravo, Miss Scarlett! Encore! Bravo!” people yell over the cheers.
Beaming, I rise from my pose before dropping into a deep curtsy. I might not be the real Scarlett Diosa, but that doesn’t stop me from basking in their awe. After tonight, my dance circle will never satisfy me again.
“Ruby!” Kasimir’s voice makes my stomach dip.
Rising from my curtsy, I turn to see him, his hands gripping the edge of the stage. A proud smile covers his face, but there’s something else there too – something almost primal.
I race towards him.
“How was it?” I ask, holding his shoulders as he catches me by my waist. Smoothly, he lifts me off the stage and sets me down on the floor.
“You were wonderful,” he murmurs. “Could’ve done without the audience, though.”
