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Floating across the room, Alaric smiled down at Arabella.  “Everyone was right.  You are wonderful.”

She flushed.  “So are you.”

“I know.”  Alaric’s eyes flashed with confidence.  “So are you ready for opening night in two weeks?”

Arabella cringed.  “I don’t know.  I practice for hours a night, but I never feel that I’ll be good enough, you know?”

Alaric shook his head, puzzled.  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“You’ve never felt worried about your performance?”

Alaric shrugged.  “I’m one of the best.  What’s there to worry about?”

Arabella bit her lip.  “I admire your confidence.”

Alaric smiled, his eyes sweeping over her.  “I admire your talent.” He raised his chin, preening as he watched them in the mirror.  “We look wonderful together.”

“We do?”  Arabella started as he twisted her out of the steps, dipping her towards the mirror.  Even with her head tilted, her neck craned backward, she could see that he was right.  Their lean forms glided together elegantly, sweeping through the steps effortlessly. An uneasy feeling crept over her.

“Let’s just get back to practicing, shall we?”  Her lips were pressed together in a smile she didn’t feel.

“Of course.”  Alaric resumed the choreography, ducking out of the way of several small ballerinas practicing their steps as curious mice.  “So did you like your gift?”

Arabella’s head jerked up.  “My gift?”

“Yes.  The one I left for you.”  Alaric puffed out his chest like a peacock.  “I must admit, it was a great deal more than I usually spend on gifts.  But I felt as partners, as the only true Clara, you deserved it.”

Arabella beamed.  “Oh, thank you!  Yes, it’s absolutely gorgeous.  I love the tiny prince, the delicate ballerina.  If only we could have gotten it to play!”

“Play?”  Alaric stared at her.  “How does a locket play?”

“A locket?”  Arabella returned his stare, equally bewildered.  “I never received a locket.”  A strange mixture of relief flowed through her.  The snowglobe wasn’t from Alaric after all.   As much as she hated to admit it, she was relieved.  Although the snowglobe was beautiful, it felt as though it might lose some of it’s glitter if the giver had been Alaric.  Her eyes darted across the room at Justin, her heart fluttering.  It was presumptuous to hope, but…

“Yes, a locket.”  Alaric’s irritated voice sliced through her thoughts.  “It was a fine locket too, a gorgeous silver one with exquisite filigree.”  He sniffed.  “I purchased it at Joesph’s.”  He sighed at Arabella’s blank stare.  “You know, Joesph’s?  The finest jeweler in town?”

Arabella smiled meekly, gesturing at her bare neck and fingers.  “I’m afraid I don’t wear much jewelry.  I spend most of my time in the studio.”  As Alaric huffed and puffed like a asthmatic pug, Arabella snuck a glance across the room.  Leonette and Justin were practicing, laughing as Leonette tripped in the middle of a jump, nearly toppling them both.  Wistfully, she chuckled under her breath with them.  Right now, she would have much rather been the Rat Queen then Clara.

“I just don’t understand it,” Alaric grumbled, jerking her up in a hard lift.  She bit her lip, trying not to cry out as he hoisted her in the air like a cumbersome log.  “I paid for it to be delivered.  I even had that boy over there, the one that helps out in the office, make sure that it got to you.”  Arabella stumbled as Alaric nearly dropped her back onto the worn studio floors.

“What boy?” she wheezed, rubbing her sore ribs.

“That one over there.”  Alaric jerked an irritated thumb in Justin’s direction.  “The Rat King,” he sneered.  “Rat fink is more like it.”

Arabella stopped practicing, her eyebrows raised in reproach.  “Surely you’re not suggesting Justin stole the locket?”

“I would never do that.”  Alaric leered, his lip curled in a sneer.  “But it is funny how it disapeared with him, isn’t it?”

Fuming, Arabella resumed the routine, her arms floating along with the music.

But this time, there was only pain, not pleasure, in her dancing.

Across the room, Max and Gabriel surveyed their room, their hands pressed together in identical triangles, fingertips kissing each other.  “What do you think?”  Max eyed Gabriel.

Gabriel’s eyes glittered.  “Arabella is exquisite.  And Alaric is amazing.”

“He’s not bad.”  Max wrinkled his nose.  Privately, he couldn’t stand Alaric.  “Though I think Justin would have been a better choice.”

“But Alaric looks like a prince,” Gabriel argued.  “That golden hair, those blue eyes…”

Max’s wrinkles deepened.  “But he’s so…stiff.  He doesn’t have Justin’s style or passion.”

“Who needs passion when you have beauty?  Dance is all about beauty, my friend.”  Gabriel sighed, eyeing his own large frame.  Shifting uncomfortably in the tiny chair, he peered across the room.  “Who is that woman?”

“What woman?”  Max glanced around.  “You mean Miss Odette?”

“No, not old Odious.”  Gabriel pointed.  “That tall woman with the blond hair.  The one glaring at Alaric.”

“Oh.”  Max shuddered.  “That’s his mother.  Apparently, she was quite the prima ballerina in her time.  I think if Alaric hadn’t gotten the part of prince she would have taken out hits on each of us.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers.  “I knew I recognized her!  Irena Darya.  She looks so different.  I’ve spoken to her several times, but I haven’t seen her in months…”  He sighed.  “She was so beautiful during her dancing days.  I’ve seen old video footage.  Her steps were incredible, her dancing as light as air.”  He frowned.  “What is she doing here?”

Max shifted in his own chair, uncomfortable.  The woman’s intense focus on Arabella was enough to make him squirm.  “I have no idea.”

As the two directors watched the students, the older blond woman tore her eyes from her son and the lithe girl with the golden hair playing Clara.  She gazed around the room, smiling when her eyes settled on a frowning girl with long black hair.  Sliding across the room, the woman slipped up to the scowling young woman.

“I take it you don’t like my son’s partner?”

Jocelyn sneered.  “Should I?”

The woman raised her shoulders. “You are Jocelyn, correct?  I’ve heard about your talent.”

Immediately, the girl’s face relaxed.  Preening, she slicked back her hand over her bun.  “Really?”

Alaric’s mother smiled, hard.  “Of course,” she lied.  “You should have gotten the part all along.  It was stolen from you.  After all your father has done for this dance company…”

“Yes.”  Jocelyn nodded savagely.  “That’s what I’ve been saying all along!  But Max and Gabriel just ignore me.”  Her face twisted. “They think I’m bitter and jealous.”

Perfect.  Alaric’s mother’s smile widened as the lies dripped off her tounge like honey.  “Of course it was.  But I can make sure that you dance Clara’s role opening night.  After all, I want my son to dance with the perfect partner.  His debut as prince must not be tarnished.”

“Really?”  Jocelyn sucked in her breath.  “How?”

Alaric’s mother smiled.  “What are you doing Friday night?”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a delicious recipe tomorrow and more stories on the way!  Stay tuned!

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