As I flew through the air, headed for a ground I couldn't see, I felt Ferdinand's hand grip my wrist and tangle in the veil. He couldn't stop me from falling entirely, but he slowed my decent to something that looked controlled. I managed to press my other hand beneath me to cushion my landing, and then rolled to my back and a stylized pose that I hoped hid the fact that this was not part of the ballet.
It wasn't until I had my arm draped over my head and I faced down the length of the stage that I realized I was staring into the face of Ferdinand without the veil to shield my face. Panic coursed through my stomach as I saw that the veil had caught on his arm, and a violent churning in the pit of my being started until I thought that I would surely unleash whatever food I had consumed that morning onto the polished wood.
Ferdinand, standing above me, wore only a pair of black pants and a lace mask over his eyes. For a moment he stared at me without moving, perhaps unsure of what to do just as I was, before he leaped into a high jump and landed on one knee by my side. His face dipped toward mine until his breath fluttered against my eyelashes and his hand slid across my waist. My breathing only came in jagged gasps but he eased me to my feet and soon we were back on choreography.
A few more minutes and he lifted me over his head while I draped in anguish. He brought me to the grave, laying me across it as the music died to a single drum, creating a heartbeat that slowly died. The silence stretched for a moment before the thunderous applause. It startled me, the volume of it. General Masha stood, smiling and clapping and his companions soon joined him. Whistling and cheering filled the room until Ferdinand picked me up in his arms and carried me offstage. The corps girls took our place on stage, and Ferdinand set me on my feet at the base of the steps.
We spent the next minute leaning up against anything that supported our weight and trying to make our lungs work again. I pressed up against a pillar, closing my eyes against the stinging sweat that dripped into them. I heard Ferdinand's ragged breath somewhere behind me. I sneaked a glance over my shoulder to see him bent over, his hands on his thighs, staring at the floorboards. His blonde hair caught the light, seeming to glow through the haze of exhaustion. He looked up, and I quickly looked away.
While the music continued, I limped a few feet toward the backstage room. Before I got very far, a hand tapped me on the shoulder. Expecting Mr. Lennox, I turned with my apologies about the botched dance ready, but the words died on my lips when I saw Ferdinand Popov looming above me. With shoulders broad enough to block my view, and height that dwarfed my own, I felt like a child shrinking under the gaze of an adult.
"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked.
My mouth moved in silence before I cleared my throat. "It's fine," I replied.
"You stumbled on stage for a reason, and I can see your favoring that leg," he said, swooping down to one knee before I could stop him. He felt my ankle, and I cringed when he pressed on it. He looked up, and I noticed for the first time that he had blue eyes under the lace mask. "You might have sprained it. And, at the least, it's a bruising that you shouldn't be walking on."
"Really, I'm all right. I'll just sit down..." I waved my hand toward the backstage door.
"Allow me." Getting to his feet, he scooped my legs up and supported my back until I was cradled against his chest and rocking with the movement of his steps. My eyes grew almost as wide as my gaping mouth and I was certain he felt my heart beating out a frantically.
I tried to hold myself as far from his bare chest as I could, which required me to stare at it to gauge how far I needed to lean away. Only when he coughed did I realize what I was doing, and hastily redirected my eyes in the opposite direction.
"Could you get the door?" he asked.
"What?" I asked, then saw we were standing stationary in front of the backstage door. "Oh." I grabbed the door handle and let us in.
"Over there," I said, pointing out my trunk.
Ferdinand set me down and fetched one of the spare chairs which he set up in front of me. For a moment I thought he meant to sit with me, but then he lifted my leg and placed it on the cushion of the chair.
"I'll ask someone to bring in some ice to put on your ankle," he said. "And you should get a doctor to make sure it isn't sprained."
"Thank you," I muttered, pulling at my skirt to cover my knee. "I'm sorry to have made you carry me in like that when you just finished hauling me around on the stage."
"It was my pleasure." He grinned. Despite his bare chest and black lace mask, he managed to still exude confidence and grace when anyone else would look ridiculous as soon as they stepped off the stage.
I looked down to escape his gaze under the pretense of testing my ankle with shaking fingers.
"I have to get back before my cue for my solo," he said. "I hope you'll feel better."
I nodded, glancing briefly up to see him heading for the door. I breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow he made it difficult to draw a breath.
He passed through the door, but before he disappeared from sight, he backed up a few feet and looked over his shoulder.
"Could you do me a favor, Nadia?"
My name coming from his lips surprised me, but I managed to hide it enough to answer. "Yes?"
"The girls wanted me to go out to a pub with them tonight, after all the to-do here has died down. It's supposed to be a welcome party of sorts, but I think one or two of them might have a few designs on me."
Gertrude. And probably all the others as well. I shook my head. "They're just star-struck is all. All they're likely to do is never shut up."
"It's not that I don't want to be a part of this company, but things could get awkward. So I was wondering if you'd come with me?"
Immediately I began to refuse in a jumbled hurry, which caused him to raise his hands in surrender and laugh.
"I only thought you might be able to keep them at bay. They all seem a bit in awe of you."
I actually laughed at that. "They're not in awe of me, they just don't like me." Years of whispered conversations and pointed glares had taught me that.
He shrugged easily. "Well, you don't have to come if you don't want to. It might be nice to get to know each other, but I understand." He headed back out the door, but still talked. "We're leaving once they let us go here, if you change your mind." With that he was gone and I was left with my aching ankle.
I pulled off my slippers, revealing my red and swollen feet. My ankle didn't outwardly look any different aside from a little swelling, but it hurt enough to keep me from moving on it. Thankfully, my part in the ballet was over until the very end where I only had to bow.
A minute or two after Ferdinand left, a servant bustled in with a napkin wrapped around ice and Mr. Lennox following close behind.
As the servant expressed her sympathy over my ankle and her admiration of my dancing, I barely paid attention. My eyes were fixed on Mr. Lennox, who, without even having to open his mouth, was clearly not pleased. The oblivious servant wrapped the ice packet to my leg with a spare ribbon from one of my costumes and promised to telephone a doctor to see me before we left. I thanked her without really any thought and she curtsied to Mr. Lennox before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.
As soon as the room grew silent, Mr. Lennox grabbed my arm and yanked it upward. My shoulder protested with a grinding joint and I stifled a yell of pain. His fingers bit deep into my skin and I shrunk away though it did nothing to loosen his grip.
"I'm sorry," I gasped out.
"What was that? What in the world could have happened to make you fail so miserably?"
His eyes burned and I struggled not to look away. "I don't know! I'm so sorry, Mr. Lennox. I know I'm better than that, but it just-"
"No! No, you are not better than that. Your training is better than that. Falling down on a simple turn? That was an embarrassment, Nadia. Unacceptable."
He finally let go of my arm and I pulled it close to my chest. Massaging the already bruising skin, I cast out for anything that might help tamper my mistake. "I don't think anyone noticed. They all clapped."
"They don't have to notice. I created specific steps in a specific pattern. Your fall threw it off, and that means that the people in that audience were cheated of the true vision of the ballet. Instead of what General Masha paid us to perform, they got a botch rendition with your clumsily added moves to cover up a simply amateur mistake." He turned on his heel and began to pace as he raked a hand through his hair. "And what was that boy thinking, pulling your veil off? He ruined the entire story with that stunt."
"It wasn't his fault. It got tangled in our hands when he caught me and somehow it got yanked off when we moved."
Mr. Lennox paused as he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled.
"We're going to go out and bow in a minute. Afterword, General Masha expressed his interest in meeting all the dancers," he said. "You are not to come. I'll tell them about your ankle to excuse your absence, and you will go straight home in a carriage."
For tripping on a move I should have mastered, missing a party seemed almost too gentle a punishment. Normally, there were hours of brutal repetitions of the botched move until I was too exhausted to even stand. Perhaps my performance from the beginning of the ballet had been enough to slack his anger.
"Yes, sir," I said. After shakily getting to my feet, I began packing my things. Mr. Lennox watched me in silence until I was done. After that, he gripped my elbow tightly and marched me to the stage steps where we waited along with the corps girls until the curtain closed and Ferdinand ran down to stand gasping in front of us. The music died, then started up again, but this time in an enchanting sort of melody as the lights flared to life. The audience began to clap and we all streamed on stage as the curtains rose again. Mr. Lennox kept my elbow in his hand and I executed my curtsies with his support.
Mr. Lennox swept a deep bow and then escorted me off stage with a flourish. No one seemed to care, since Ferdinand still stood in the spotlight. Every eye trained on him as he flashed smiles and blew kisses to the crowd.
I was swept silently along the edge of the ballroom toward the servant's door. As we walked, I cast a glance back just as Ferdinand was coming off the stage. The corps followed him closely as he headed for whatever room he changed in. And, for the slightest of moments, I wanted him to turn and see me. Maybe if he saw Mr. Lennox leading me away, he would understand why I wouldn't show up at the pub. But when he didn't even so much as glance my way, I wondered why I'd even thought it in the first place.
The driver hefted my trunk onto the rack behind the carriage as Mr. Lennox and I stood by the front. A gentle snow powdered the grass, revealing the paths the servants used to fetch the guests their motorcars or carriages. I shivered in my thin costume, trying to ignore the strange looks I attracted from the driver as he resumed his seat. A girl in a shin-length dress and bare feet probably was not the type of person he was used to ferrying.
Mr. Lennox opened the carriage door and I started to climb in, already imagining the warmth of the lap blanket. However, Mr. Lennox did not relinquish his hold on my arm and I was brought up short. I turned to see what he wanted and was met by him grabbing my chin and forcing my face inches from his own.
"I want the Funeral Dance to be perfect from now on, Nadia. Do you understand me?" His eyes bore into mine and I shook under his tight grip and the cutting cold.
"Yes," I whispered.
He let me go with a shove that sent me stumbling into the carriage. A moment later it began to move and I watched through the small window as Mr. Lennox walked slowly back inside.
———
Author's Note:
Yay, thanks for your continued support by reading this next installment! I'm so excited Ferdinand is finally introduced properly! What do you guys think of him so far?