Page 18 of Our Strange Duet

“There are too many to choose from,” he finally responded. “I could no sooner pick a favorite star in the night sky.”

“Do you think we might sing one together…one day?”

“You and I?” he asked, sounding amused.

I wanted to answer but found I could not. Instead, I crossed over to the mirror, as I so often did during our lessons, and ran my thumb over one of the carved figurines within the frame. It was a swan, captured as it readied for flight. Its wings were spread wide, and its neck arched in a beautiful, sinuous curve.

“I would enjoy that very much, Christine.”

I felt a shimmer of yearning sparkle through me. I’d have given anything for our voices to join together in song. My pulse thudded as I imagined how they would blend, his baritone boosting the sweetness of my soprano and drawing out its vibrato.

The Angel made a sound I couldn’t immediately identify. It wasn’t quite a laugh; it wasn’t exactly the clearing of his throat. It reminded me of a cat, purring its pleasure with claws bared. “I will think of something for us,” he promised. “Something befitting both our…talents. But for now, the hour is late.”

I glanced at the little silver clock on my table. “Not very,” I protested. Even though it felt as if our time together had just begun, it was well after midnight.

“I will not have you sounding strained tomorrow. You must rest, Christine.”

“It takes me ages to fall asleep after one of our lessons,” I admitted. “It’s impossible to relax. My whole body feels energized and racing.”

“Does it?” the Angel questioned, his words unusually tight.

I nodded.

“All the more reason to end our time together for now. Tomorrow is Les Huguenots’ opening. You will need to be at your best.”

“I know all my steps,” I swore. “I could dance ‘Les Patineurs’ in my sleep.”

The Angel remained silent.

I shifted from foot to foot, compelled to keep chattering so I could stay in his presence for even one minute more. I always wanted more. More time. More music. More him. “Do you think…Will I ever be good enough to move out of the corps? I know I couldn’t possibly hope to become a principal singer, but…perhaps the chorus? They have auditions at the start of every se—”

“You’re far better than any of those imbeciles,” he snapped, anger suddenly heating his words and sending a panicked warning through my system. I’d never heard him so furious.

A long silence passed between us, and I was at a loss on how to save the evening.

“You’re ready,” he announced, softer now, drawing me back to him with gentle words. “More than ready. I only need—” He stopped short. “Good night, Christine.”

I touched the mirror’s glass, its cool surface chilling my fingers. “Angel, wait!”

But he was already gone.

Chapter 7

The stairwell was alive with the thumps of toe shoes racing down its metal treads. We’d finished our final class for the day, and with the stage being readied for the summer gala, we found ourselves with a rare evening off. Everyone had raced away after our grand révérence, eager to get dressed and enjoy the fine evening.

“Christine, wait!”

I turned to see Meg hurrying after me. Wild wisps had worked themselves free of her bun, and her cheeks were stained red. It had been a grueling barre session. “We’re all going out tonight,” she announced as she caught up.

“Oh, I—”

“Don’t say you can’t come,” she chided. “We’ve so much to celebrate! Lisette is engaged!”

I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Engaged! To whom?”

Meg laughed as she took the spiral stairs down two at a time. “I forget how much you miss, being in the other dressing room.”

My relationship with the rest of the corps was shifting, altering degree by degree, so that I now felt as though I were an outsider looking in.