The Price {Completed}

Chapter Fifteen

I waited a few minutes after Rachel left before making my way to the door that led under the stage. None of the girls ever paid attention to me, but I didn't want to run the risk that today would be the one day they noticed me sneaking out after asking Rachel to do something for me. So, I made sure they were occupied before exiting the room, and then stuck to the shadows along the hall.

In the cold space between stage and ground, I hunkered down. No one danced above me, and the sounds of the audience had retreated to the front lobby, which was far enough away that they were little more than a quiet murmuring. Everything felt so deadly still, as if time had somehow stopped in this shadowy space beneath the stage. I kept the chill away by wrapping my arms around my knees and pulling them close.

The darkness conjured the most dreadful imaginings-- Ferdinand dead and bleeding, Ferdinand crying out in pain, Mr. Lennox standing over a stationary body with his face blotted out by shadow. I knew I was being irrational about the whole thing, but the emptiness around me made the ridiculous feel so real.

When the door finally opened, I lurched to my feet. There, at the top, Ferdinand's figure was silhouetted by the door frame before he jogged down the stairs, his makeup freshly scrubbed away and a worried look in his eye.

A sob choked me and I stumbled a step forward. "Oh. Thank goodness," I gasped out. A flood of silly tears ran down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Nadia. I didn't know they hadn't told you-"

Before he could finish, I rushed forward and caught him in my arms. The fierceness of my grip surprised even me, but I pressed my face into the space between his collar and his shoulder all the same. His heartbeat fluttered against my cheek, letting me know he was alive and well. I leaned into it, closing my eyes for a moment to let the warmth of his skin sink into my own.

His hand brushed the top of my head, flattening my hair and grazing the back of my neck. His fingers were cold, but I didn't mind. He was here.

"Did no one tell you about the changes?" he asked me after a minute. I pulled back, shaking my head and trying to wipe away the tears without him seeing. He did, though, and helped me clean my face with his hands, letting them rest against the sides of my face when we were done. I stared at his face, my body buzzing with the memory of the last time we'd been here.

I couldn't be thinking these things right now. I'd only just been worried that Mr. Lennox had killed Ferdinand, and I couldn't put more ammunition in his hands.

Pulling back just slightly, I continued our conversation. "I saw a few of the costumes and some of the sets, but I had no idea that this was going to be about the king and the Common Army," I said. "Or that Mr. Lennox would kill the king at the end. It just doesn't seem right."

"I know." Ferdinand sighed, his hands sliding down my arms and into my own. "But the Common Army and the people know that the Lennox Company was funded by the Crown and that, at one point, it got to the point where Lennox raised ticket prices too high for workers to attend any longer. I think with this ballet Mr. Lennox wanted to show them that we are firmly on the side of the Common Army now. And that means erasing any doubt of loyalty."

"It's so brutal," I whispered. "I would rather just do the Time ballet every night, like before."

"Something tells me this is our new key piece," Ferdinand said.

We were quiet for a moment, and I noticed that my hands were intertwined with his. I glanced up to his face, seeing the shadows of bruises still across his mouth, and felt that urge to pull away once again. But he wouldn't let me go.

"Nadia, I wanted to tell you something that I've-"

Before he could finish whatever it was that he wanted to say, voices echoed above us. We ducked instinctively, though no one on the stage or in the seats could see us. Ferdinand pulled me over to one of the support pillars which we leant up against as two figures crossed the stage. We tracked their progress by the way their body cut out the light, and they stopped around the middle.

One I could immediately tell was Mr. Lennox, but the other took me a moment to realize was Karl Matveev. The young officer with Vigilant Men ties.

"May I remind you that Doctor Alkaev was the one who commissioned and also funded this ballet?" Mr. Lennox said.

"So you say," Matveev said. "Though I do not doubt that he would go for this... display. He is a man born to riches, and once the poison of money is in your veins it is impossible to get out again."

"That sounds to me like you are not pleased with your new Representative. Rather an oversight on the Vigilant Men's side, electing him if they have just as much a problem with him as you do."

The disdain in Matveev's voice was plain. "The Vigilant Men did no such thing. The Common Army elected him. We had nothing to do with it."

Mr. Lennox laughed. "Well, I don't see why you're complaining to me now, Matveev. You're not the Representative of Rumonin, and neither are you the new Commissioner of Art. So whatever you find wrong with my ballet, I'm afraid you will just have to swallow."

"Let me tell you something, Lennox," Matveev said. "The Common Army may be satisfied with throwing thousands of Ruma at this ridiculous ballet, and funding painters and operas, but the Vigilant Men are not so easily taken in by flash and opulence."

"Well, then, I suggest you find a book on botany to satisfy your need for something dull and dry, Matveev. Now, if you don't mind, I have to attend to Doctor Alkaev and the real officers."

"Good day," Matveev hissed, and his boots stomped across the stage and down the steps back into the seating area. Mr. Lennox stood on the stage for a moment longer, and then he slowly walked to the wings.

When the stage was once again quiet, I let out a breath I hadn't noticed I'd been holding and slumped out of the rigid position I'd been holding. Ferdinand released my hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"This isn't good," he said.

"Matveev isn't exactly the person we need to worry about, Ferdinand," I said. "He's the sourest person I've ever met, and I think Doctor Alkaev only tolerates him because they need the Vigilant Men's members in their ranks."

"He had a point, though. Ballet is all about show and opulence and grandeur. We're not a subtle art. Everything about our dance screams of the royals. Now that the king is dead, any sign of someone who might be of that world is in danger. The workers are so angry with how the king ran things that they're going in the complete opposite direction. We're a twirling cake of lace and jewels, and they are starving for hardy bread that can feed everyone."

I bit my lip. "But Doctor Alkaev is friends with Mr. Lennox, and he seems to really enjoy the ballet."

"You said it yourself, Nadia. Doctor Alkaev needs the Vigilant Men in order to have an army big enough to support him in this shaky new beginning. If they raise enough of an outcry about us, we could be the next ones to be dragged out onto the street and shot as being too royal."

"No, Mr. Lennox won't let them," I said, but my voice faltered.

Ferdinand's face grew grim, and when he spoke he sounded as if we had already been handed our death warrants. "We just have to dance like our lives depend on it, because they do. We have to be so good that they won't see as what we are-- expendable extravagances."

A shiver ran down my spine.

What had Mr. Lennox gotten us into?