The Toll {Book 2}

28. Stolen- Nadia

After Andres left, I returned to the auditorium to watch Ferdinand's practice. Soon, however, a building tension behind my eyes turned into pounding pain, and I couldn't stand the bright stage lighting any more. I waited for a small break between sets, and quickly grabbed Ferdinand's attention just long enough to let him know I needed to head home. He was still in the middle of the lessons, so he only had time to give me a brief kiss on the cheek before Mr. Gramercie pulled him away. Thankfully he hadn't noticed my exhaustion. I didn't want to worry him.

Instead of bothering Hannabella's lended chauffeur to drive me home, I walked down the streets on my own. I didn't want to make him drive all the way to Hannabella's house, and then back again to pick up Ferdinand. Besides, it was enjoyable to pass all the stores and houses, painted in pastels and brilliant whites, with darling awnings over the windows. The sunshine spilled down on the women in spring green and petal pink dresses, their hair bunched at the nape of their neck and wrapped in ribbons. Even though Hannabella had done her best to buy me nice dresses, I still felt slightly out of place among the cheerful smiles and easy gaits. I wasn't sure I ever had that sense of safety inside me, even before the Vigilant riots.

When I reached Hannabella's house, I immediately saw a carriage waiting out front. It meant there were guests inside, probably for Hannabella. She was so well known and respected in Flauns, and yet I always seemed to forget that she was nearly as famous as the queen herself. Her warm temper and graciousness always made me think of her more as family than as a star that commanded the awe of an entire country. It was only when admirers showed up, gushing about her operas, that I remembered what her real job was.

I opened the door as quietly as I could, not wanting to interact with anyone just at that moment, and was heading upstairs when one of the maids scuttled out of the shadows and hovered by my elbow. She twisted her hands in front of her, her eyes wide.

"Sorry, miss, but some ladies came to see Mr. Popov, and I told them he wouldn't be back from practice for at least another hour, but they insisted they'd wait for him, and I don't know what to do." She'd said it all in one puff of air, gliding from thought to thought with no thought for sentences. I smiled to try and calm her.

"If they said they'd wait, then I'm sure they won't mind it," I said, taking a step toward my room. I wanted nothing more than to just collapse on my bed and try to make sense of volunteering to join Andres' company when I couldn't even dance a simple set of steps.

"Please," the maid said, stepping forward as if she was about to follow me. "Couldn't you go in and see them? Maybe convince them to come back another time? Mrs. Lephard is so particular about guests in the house. There are so many dreadful fans and reporters who will try to sneak in and steal something that belongs to her or try and get gossip."

"You think these women are that sort of fan?" I asked, my eyes skimming over her toward the closed drawing room door. "How would they know Ferdinand?"

The maid half-shrugged. "I'm not sure. But it doesn't seem right to have guests who would wait hours for someone, when they can easily come back later."

I sighed, coming back down the stairs. "All right, I'll see to them." I'd barely gotten the words out before the maid smiled in relief and dashed back into the shadows of the hallway. It looked like I was going in alone.

Making my way to the drawing room doors, I pushed them open just enough to peek through. The guests were facing away from me, but I could tell they were ladies. The nearest one, smaller than the other, had golden hair and chattered away. I couldn't quite make out what she was saying, but she seemed almost to be laughing. I waited a moment, trying to think why two young women would wait hours for Ferdinand, when the golden haired girl turned her head slightly and I caught sight of her profile.