I listened to the heavy tread of his boots, hoping that he’d reconsider and come back. But he was gone.

The clock in the great room struck the hour, pulling me from my thoughts. Bong, bong, bong, it sang softly, and I counted the beats up to twelve. “Do you know when my mother plans to rise?” I asked the cook.

“She rose at a decent hour, mademoiselle,” the cook said with a little sniff. “She departed several hours ago, but she left you a note. It’s on the front table.”

Frowning, I went out to the front entry and found a folded bit of paper with my name on the front.

Darling, I hope you are feeling much improved this morning. Please meet me at the opera house at noon today – I have wonderfully exciting news to share with you.

I glanced at the water clock, then back at the note. “Stones and sky!” I swore, then bolted to the stairs.

Chapter 9

Cécile

I was late, but my mother was later.

We had grouped in the foyer de la danse, a grand room reserved for the premiere ballerinas and the gentlemen subscribers who admired them. It was a golden place, pilasters rising up to the graceful arches of the frescoed ceiling and mirrors reflecting the light of the massive chandelier hanging in the center.

Portraits of famous dancers and sopranos ringed the room, their intricate frames clutched by gilded cherubs. It was, in a way, a history of the Trianon opera, for while this building was relatively new, the portraits dated back to when the company was in its infancy some two hundred years prior. It reminded me of the gallery of the Kings in the Trollus library, and made me wish I’d taken the time to see the gallery of the Queens. History told through faces and clothing, the skill of the artist whispering a story with oil and brush.

I stared at the portrait of my mother hung in a place of privilege on one wall and wondered what secret truths, if any, it told about her. Moving almost of their own accord, my fingers brushed against the golden locket hanging at my throat, even as my eyes fixed on the one painted around hers.

“Cécile?”

I blinked. Sabine was staring at me with a frown on her face. “Sorry,” I said. “What was that you were saying about Julian?” She’d been telling me about my co-star’s antics the night prior, but I’d barely been listening.

She frowned. “Has something happened?”

I nodded. “Chris and I had a little adventure. I’ll tell you about it after.”

“Bad?”

I gave her a grim nod. We were practiced in speaking in code when we weren’t alone, but this conversation needed to wait.

I shifted on the velvet banquette, pulling off my shoes and tucking my feet underneath me. I needed to change the subject before anyone took note of our conversation. “Does anyone know what this is about?”