Page 34 of Dance of Ruin

I manage to get through it without falling the next time. But when I start dancing with the prince, I crash and burn three times in a row. Kuzmina finally claps her hands.

"Stop,” she says tightly in her Russian accent. “Everyone, take five. Naomi, over here, please."

I follow her to the front corner by the rosin box, my heart pounding.

"You’re not present today," she says bluntly. "Your body is here, but your mind is elsewhere."

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

“Where are you, Naomi? ASwan Lakewithout a Swan Queen goes nowhere, yes?”

I nod stiffly.

“So?”

“I…” I shake my head, feeling anxiety clawing at my insides. “I’m just…distracted, Madame. I’m having an off day.”

“Dancers don't get to haveoff days,” she murmurs quietly. Then she sighs, looking piercingly at me. "Naomi, do you still feel capable of this role?"

It’s like a dagger to the chest.

"Yes!” I blurt, more terror than I would have liked in my tone before I manage to rein it in. “Yes,” I say again, more calmly. “I’m fine. I just... I had a stomach bug."

Kuzmina’s gaze narrows slightly. "Dove is more than capable. We could let her take over for a few more days. Just until you recover."

For the record, I havenothingagainst our newest company member with the white-pink hair, subtle tattoos, and a somewhat aloof and mysterious demeanor. She's a beautiful dancer. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been having almost near-constantanxiety ever since she joined the Zakharova a few months ago and was immediately cast as my understudy—especially since she’splayed it before.

I shake my head frantically. "No. Please. I can do it."

Madame holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she nods once, curtly. "Let's do it again, then.”

* * *

It’s onlythrough sheer willpower that I make it through rehearsal. It’s not my best work, and I feel pure shame and mortification every time I barely get through a simple section. But I do make it.

When the others filter out at the end of the day, I stay.

I can’t go home. I can’t go sit and stare at my four walls.

Besides that, Idoneed to practice. I need to fight through whatever darkness is trying to take this part of me.

I willnotlet that happen.

Plus, even if it was a disaster, today’s rehearsal made me realize that dancing might be the only way I can feel anything at all right now.

I make my way to the main stage. It's dim now, and the house lights are off, casting the theater into shadows that stretch wide and deep. I flick the switch to turn on a couple of work lights.

Then I take my place, without music.

And I start to dance.

It’s slow going at first. But I force myself to take the choreography step by step, pausing when I have to. Sweat clings to my skin and dampens my hair. My muscles ache and my feet scream for mercy. But I keep going, growing more and more confident as my muscles begins to remember what my mind momentarily forgot.

I finish my variation, breathless and lungs burning, finally nailing the bit that tripped me up earlier. For a moment, something close to pride surges through my chest, pulling my lips into a pleased little smile.

Then, something jarring sucks all the air from my lungs as the icy cold sharpness of it has me whirling, my smile shattering.

It’s the sound ofclapping.

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