That night, she had completely transformed. Her voice struck a chord deep within him. Like being pulled by a string, he leaned forward in his seat, listening, enraptured. The notes she sang wreathed around him. She entranced him, lamenting the circumstances of her dearest friend Amenaide, forced into a marriage because of the ongoing war.
“She’s brilliant, isn’t she?” George whispered beside him. His voice was thick with emotion. “Alicia deserves the world.”
Philip swallowed hard, fearing that he had given his friends exactly what they wanted. But when he looked over at Simon, he was staring down at the stage with equal awe. Alicia’s voice was so raw, vulnerable, distracting.
He leaned back, fighting against the emotions that rose unbidden inside him. He balled his hands into fists, hoping George wouldn’t look over and notice his rising distress. Her song scratched at the edges of his consciousness, begging to be let in, as her piece reached its crescendo, and her voice shot through him, before the applause began.
Suddenly, there was a flash of memory.
The sound of the applause was like the drum of horses on a battlefield as a bayonet shot through the air toward him. That final haunting note had reminded him of Elinor, a wail for all the pain she had endured, and her unanswered supplications for help. Behind it all was the face of the duke—a face eerily similar to his father’s—castigating him for his every failure from beyond the grave.
Philip shot out of his seat. His panic had reached its crux. George and Simon looked up, pausing their applause.
“Philip—”
“Wilmington, what?—”
Embarrassed, Philip composed himself, even as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
“A moment,” he begged, raising a hand to stop George from following him as he left their box. “I need a moment.”
He hastened into the corridor behind them, running a hand over his mouth as his mind raced. He paused at the top of the stairs. The applause finally ceased.
The others could never understand what had happened.
He barely understood himself.
* * *
The last note of the scene left her like a desperate cry. Her voice echoed all around her, and she was deaf to everything else happening on the stage. Nerves on fire, her skin tingled from head to toe as she poured herself into her closing phrase. Her throat hurt with the force of her vibrato, but the pain was welcome.
She was not Anna. Not in that moment. She was Isaura.Pleading for her friend’s life. Pleading to be listened to—to beseen.
For the briefest moment after she was done, there was silence. The faces in the crowd blurred into one, and she convinced herself that they had known. Poor little Anna, who had barely had time to live, had ruined her life with a song. The whispers would start any moment, and then someone would immediately send a messenger to her father, and then?—
A wave of applause broke through her thoughts, thundering through the theatre. Their admiration. All forher.
A smile worked its way unbidden onto her lips. The reverberation of their applause was like a drum in her chest. She was a hollow shell, floating there, waiting to be filled up by their praise.
There was no time to rest on her laurels. The next actors were already gathering in the wings. Exiting the stage the way she had come, she pressed the mask to her face and kept her head low. The chorus had left just before her, and the wings were so crowded that she could barely breathe.
Making the most of her tall, lithe figure, she slipped through the crowd until she reached the dressing rooms.
Alicia waited at the door, pulling her inside before slamming the door behind her. She pried away Anna’s mask, their fingers meeting on the porcelain. The cool air felt good against Anna’s skin. She swayed from side to side as Alicia inspected her, feeling faint.
“I can’t believe it,” Alicia breathed. “You were fantastic, Anna. I had to keep my distance so as not to alert the impresario, but I still heard you. You are… You are simply…” Her eyes welled with tears, but she wasn’t smiling. She pressed a kiss to Anna’s forehead, grounding her. “You are so unexpectedly talented. My savior…”
Still reeling from the high of her performance, Anna struggled for words. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her usually pale cheeks had turned pink with the effort of her singing. Small ringlets of brown hair curled around her face, wet with sweat. Yet she had never felt more beautiful, more powerful.
“I thought I was going to be sick when I first got on stage,” she admitted, licking her lips. She could still taste the brandy Alicia had given her to calm her nerves. “But then I started singing and… It was so magical. I can’t believe I actually sang in front of all those people, and theylikedit. I can’t… Oh, how I wish I could do that every night. I’ve never felt so alive. You’re so lucky, Alicia.”
“Lucky, I’m not sure. But I agree that there is nothing like it in the world.” Alicia’s hand hovered over her heart as she looked at Anna fondly. A beat, as Anna waited for more gratitude. “While I hate to cut your moment short like this, I think I now feel well enough to perform.”
She extended her hand, waiting for her mask. Anna glanced down at it, unsure why it was difficult to return it to its rightful owner. She had loved singing her whole life, but it had never been her dream to pursue music like Alicia. Anna wasn’t sure what her dream was.
But the way I felt tonight… Could this be what I am meant to do? To stand on my own two feet in front of everyone and show them what I’m capable of?
The idea filled her with excitement as she lovingly stroked the mask. But Alicia cleared her throat, and her father’s face flashed before her eyes, reminding her of all the sacrifices Alicia had made to get to where she was.
