SABINE
My heart soars as I stand in line. I’m finally about to see a performance on an actual stage.
I ignore the people around me even though I sense them looking my way. Despite my use of the illusion, they seem to be drawn to my magic unknowingly. It’s bringing me more attention than I would like.
I reach the woman at the box office, suddenly nervous. “I’m with Frederick,” I say. “He said I should tell you.”
“Of course.” Giving me a knowing look, she hands me a program. “Go on inside.”
I suppose Frederick really does know the proprietor.
Clutching the program in my gloved hands, I resist the urge to tug at my dress. I feel self-conscious here, vulnerable. At home, I am fawned over, coddled, escorted, and adored. Here, people simply watch me, wondering who I am and why I’m alone. But at least I blend in.
After securing a room at the hotel across from the theater, I bought a new gown for the evening. I’ve never worn anything that wasn’t tailored to my measurements, but it fits well enough.
The dress is made from a midnight-blue satin, in a Valstan summer style—sleeveless, with a fitted bodice and a full skirt that’s bustled in the back.
It must have been a good choice because every other woman in the foyer wears a similar cut, though the colors of the gowns vary dramatically.
I scan the space, and my eyes land on a woman in the corner. She sits at a table, adorned with dozens of colorful shawls and scarves. Her eyes are rimmed with kohl, her deeply wrinkled cheeks are rouged bright pink, and her thin lips are red. She bends over the palm of a young woman who sits with her beau, muttering to herself.
A sign above her table reads Madame Corsavina, Fortune-teller. But I don’t sense any magic surrounding her. She’s human—and therefore, a fraud.
Intrigued, I wander a little closer, wondering what she’s telling the couple.
“Yes,” she says in a thick accent I cannot place. “Much happiness lies in your future—riches, children, contentment.”
“And what about me?” the man asks, shooting the woman next to him a playful look. “Am I in her future as well?”
“Let me see your palm,” Madame Corsavina says thickly, releasing the girl’s hand. She tuts several times as she studies the lines and then nods as if deeply satisfied. “It is a perfect match. Your futures are entwined—her fortune is your own.”
The girl giggles, obviously delighted. Together, the couple thanks the woman. As they leave, the young man looks back at the elderly fortune-teller. She gives him a wink, and he passes her at least one gold coin.
I laugh to myself, delighted by the charade.
“Do you wish to have Madame Corsavina read your fortune?” a deep male voice asks from my side.
I turn and find Frederick. He looks adorably human in a black jacket and charcoal gray waistcoat, with his brown hair perfectly combed.
“You’re very handsome this evening,” I say.
He tilts his head to the side, letting his eyes rove over my new gown. “I’m not certain I’m worthy of escorting you. You are stunning, Miss Sabine.”
I merely smile, not as easily swayed by compliments as I was when I was younger. “Thank you.”
He gestures toward the fortune-teller. “Shall we?”
“Why not? Unless we’ll miss the first part of the show?”
“We have fifteen minutes. The orchestra is still warming up.”
“There’s an orchestra?” I ask, concealing my breathless delight.
Frederick grins, looking slightly bemused. “There is.”
He’s likely wondering if I lived under a rock.
A little embarrassed, I head toward the fortune-teller. Her eyes sharpen on me. Before I can stop myself, I raise my hand to make sure my ears are concealed by my hair. Pressing her scarlet lips together, she follows the movement.