“Tamiko,” Ellen silently implored. “Don’t look down. Look at her.”

And then, Shizuka Satomi, the Shizuka Satomi, nodded, took off her sunglasses, and glanced into Tamiko Giselle Grohl’s eyes.

So that was the Grohl girl. Pretty. But of course she was.

Tremon said she was supremely gifted. But of course she was.

Shizuka entered the main hall and found a seat in the back. Even there, she felt people watching her, gossiping, no doubt.

Whatever. Appearance, reputation, even training or desire … none of that mattered now.

The organizers made the usual announcements. A parent forgot to bring cough drops. The lights dimmed.

Now … let’s hear her play.

After the preliminaries of any competition, the foyer fills with the chatter of parents, teachers, and musicians. There is triumph, heartbreak, arguing, predictions of who might advance to the final rounds. It can be a spectacle all its own.

Yet, this afternoon, the conversations were dominated by another topic entirely.

Shizuka Satomi was here.

“I think she’s living in Lausanne?”

“Tokyo, last I heard.”

“Wait—how old is she?”

“Here’s my phone; I want you to take a picture…”

“Let’s take a picture with her together!”

And then, there she was.

Just as before, silence fell throughout the hall. But this time, it was not from shock. People knew she was here, people were expecting her. Most of them rightly assumed she was searching for her next student, her next star.

Yet, as Shizuka Satomi moved through them, the San Gabriel Valley’s finest found their hearts faltering between notes, their music unraveled and wanting. Those who had thought to speak to the Queen of Hell suddenly felt small and invisible, as if they had nothing significant to say.

Two people, however, approached her.

“Miss Satomi! Thank you for coming to watch the competition. I—I’m Ellen Seidel. And this is Tamiko Giselle Grohl.”

Shizuka glanced at them both. Was that a smile?

“Y-you sent me that note, remember?” Ellen asked, her voice straining with pride, desire, and terror.

“Of course,” Shizuka Satomi finally said. “Your student is the reason that I am here.”

Tamiko Giselle Grohl could not restrain herself any longer. The Queen of Hell was in front of her, right in front of her.

“Kiana Choi studied with you, right?” she blurted.

“Yes. She did.”

“Kiana’s my hero—I want to be just like her!”

For the last time, Shizuka Satomi looked at Tamiko Grohl. The girl had been poised and engaging, technically near flawless.

How appropriate.

The Queen of Hell reached for her sunglasses, then tilted her head in a most exquisite way.

“No. You don’t.”

By the time anyone could react, Shizuka Satomi had floated to the exit and out the door.

Astrid was peeling tangerines when the door opened.

“Welcome back, Miss Satomi! I trust it went…” Her voice trailed off. One look at Miss Satomi told Astrid everything she needed to know.