I touched the spot on my throat where the necklace she was pictured wearing usually hung, but it was in my dressing room. I had no memory of her – she’d gone missing when I was very young. Her hair was blonde and her eye color indistinct, yet I could see my mother in the arch of her cheeks and the coolness of her gaze. But I didn’t have time to give it much thought before I was caught up in the exodus from the foyer. Finding my spot among the chorus, I watched as ballerinas dressed as harem girls exited the stage, their shoes making soft little thuds as they ran past me. It was time to go on.

Adjusting the basket across my elbow, I linked arms with one of the girls, and then we strolled out onto the set staged as an exotic spice market, warm with the heat of the audience rather than the desert sun. I sang and skipped and spun, the words rising instinctively to my lips as I matched the volume and sound of the other girls. The audience was a faceless blur, the colors brilliant, the lights bright as we set the scene.

Then my mother walked onto the stage, her voice dominating the theatre. She sang, and the rest of us were silent, relegated to the backdrop. The girls of the chorus tempted her with their wares, jewelry, spices, and all manners of delicacies. Then it was my turn. I stepped in front of her, holding out my basket of wax fruit for her to see. Still singing, she selected an apple, which I pretended to refuse payment for. As I retreated to the backdrop, something caught my eye.

A flash of light. Motion in the Regent’s private box. No one was allowed to sit in there unless accompanied by the Regent or his family. I’ll be watching every move you make… Marie’s voice whispered across my thoughts. Was she alone, or was Anushka with her?

I wanted to stare, but that would mean breaking character, so I couldn’t. One of the other girls caught my arm, spinning me away, our voices chorusing my mother’s. My spine prickled. Even though I was in the middle of a stage, countless eyes upon me, I felt as though I were being stalked. It was all I could do to keep smiling, singing, and dancing, because I wanted to run. Every chance I had, I glanced toward the box, but it was too dark to say who sat within.

The scene ended, and we all danced offstage. I needed to go change my costume, but instead of going with the other girls, I hesitated in the darkness of the wings. My sweating fingers clutched at the basket handle, and I stepped as close to the stage as I dared go without being seen by the audience. The Regent’s colors hung below the railing, as they always did. The box itself was dark, but a single gloved hand rested on the railing. Why were they watching me? What did they intend to do?