Page 27 of Dance of Devils
“What does Ivan have to do with Brooklyn?”
Ivan is an old friend of mine from boarding school, a fellow Russian castaway who went on to have an illustrious dance career and is now the Artistic Director of theImperiya Koronain Moscow—AKA, the man I’ll be calling in a favor with to get Inessa Moskovic into the company.
Magda gives me a curious look. “You didn’t know?”
She sighs, shaking her head as she pushes me aside and scrolls down through Brooklyn’s file.
“She auditioned for theImperiya Korona's ballet mistress, Liliya Rostova, a month ago, when Liliya was visiting New York.”
My brows knit. “Did she now.”
Magda smiles wryly. “She did. And unfortunately for us, Liliya liked her and put her on the short list for the one apprenticeship available this year.”
Something rancorous and bitter slams into me, my jaw clenching as I read the note in Brooklyn’s file.
Holy fuck.
I’ve seen her dance, of course, though not with a particularly analytical eye. She’s very good, and extremely disciplined. But I wouldn’t have guessed that she was aiming as high as theImperiya fucking Korona.
I turn to look at Magda. “What are your thoughts on that?”
She scowls. “She’s…quite good. Incredible, actually, though she has a way of blending into the background and never quite putting herself out there. I would say she’s easily up there with Naomi Kim or Dove Marchetti… No, I’ll be blunt. She’s the best dancer in the Zakharova. Losing her will hurt us.”
I frown. “So you think she’ll get the apprenticeship?”
Magda snorts, curling and uncurling her fingers, making the rings on them glitter in the light. “I’m quite sure she will. I’ve seen the short list. It’s between her and three other girls—Lin Xiuya from China’s Zhujiang Baleiwutuán, the Teatro dell’Aurora in Florence’s Allegra Vitale and Camille Blanchet, of L’Académie de Paris.”
She turns and walks across the office to an electric kettle by the window and switches it on.
“Tea, Kir?”
“No thank you.”
She nods and pulls a mug and small wooden tea caddy from a drawer, then scoops some loose leaves into a small cotton drawstring bag.
“They’re all quite talented. But…” She shakes her head. “I say this as an impartial teacher of ballet, not asBrooklyn’steacher…she’s the best. It’s not even close. They would be fools not to take her.” Magda sighs. “She’s hungry for it, too,” she adds.“Brooklyn, I mean. She’s got both the talentandthe desire to be there.”
Interesting.
Interesting and tragic. For Brooklyn, that is. Because that one apprenticeship is already going to someone else.
And I’m the asshole who’s going to make sure that happens.
While Magda’s water boils, I scroll up through Brooklyn’s file. Just as I suspected, her address doesn’t match the one where I dropped her off last night. I make a note of the real one as the kettle starts to whistle.
“Why did you stop, Kir?”
I glance over at Magda as she pours the boiling water over the tea leaves, then dunks the bag a few times.
“Stop what?”
She smirks. “Dancing.” She brings her mug to her lips, breathing in the steam. “You were quite good, as I remember.”
I chuckle, smiling wryly. “That’s generous of you.”
“Kir.” She rolls her eyes. “If you’re fishing for more compliments, don’t bother. I’m done. But I’m serious, and you know it. You wereexcellent. And then you just…stopped.”
“I’m not sure it’s compatible with my current line of work,” I say dryly.
