CREATURE

・chapter 17・

'So we'll do two tendus front, lower the heel on the plié, repeat to the back and to the side, rotating outward each time.' the ballet master in charge of company class explained. 'Then three tendus front, side, back and finish with a nice deep chassé and a balance in retiré taking the arms to fifth position.'

Asya marked out the exercise attentively with her hands, nodding along as the ballet master talked them through the combination. They were taking Monday morning class on the theatre's main stage for a social media livestream, and like with all exhibition classes, they were being filmed by a full camera, sound and lighting crew.

It wasn't a properly formal event, since the whole purpose of the livestream was to give the public a behind-the-scenes look at what goes into a dancer's day-to-day training at the Royal Opera House. Formal or not though, they'd all been told to show up with their pre-warm-ups done and looking more presentable than they usually do at 10 AM on a Monday morning.

She'd arrived back in London with Julian the only day before and had headed straight into the theatre to prepare for that evening's Sleeping Beauty performance. Management had been dead serious about them not missing any more of their regular shows than they absolutely had to, and god knows, the demanding three-act ballet didn't go easy on them.

That morning she'd woken up exhausted down to the very fibre of her being, sore in places she didn't know she could be sore, and dreading taking on yet another battle with her eating. Still, she didn't have time to think about any of those things just yet. She was coming off a highly successful tour and her name was splattered over every arts column in London. She needed to live up to the name she was making for herself and land the principal role Bastian was practically dangling in front of her.

So she'd hauled herself out of bed, showered, put on some light makeup and picked out a crystal pink leotard to wear underneath her black athletic shorts, figuring it would stand out on stage. An hour later she'd left the house with her hair in a neat bun and her game face on. There was no way she was walking into a livestream not looking the damn part, no matter how exhausted she was.

Keeping her eyeline up she rose onto demi-pointe and lifted her leg to retiré to end the tendu combination, feeling her hip sting painfully inside its socket. She winced, but gritted her teeth to hold the ending balance before relaxing back onto the floor.

During the performance the night before she'd heard a snapping noise in her hip, nothing too painful, just an unusually loud pop that did get uncomfortable toward the end of the show. She knew that her hips were taking a beating, between the Sleeping Beauty shows and her tour rep she hadn't exactly gone easy on them, but it was probably just a micro-injury and she would still be expected to keep dancing.

Throughout the exercises at the barre she stayed wary of the troublesome hip, taking care not to overexert herself or push through any alarmingly serious pain. By the time they got to développés she was satisfied either the hip sorted itself out or she was warm enough not to feel it.

She cupped the bridge of her foot in her hand and lifted her leg up, taking it across her vision to find a comfortable balancing position before releasing it. At the barre directly across from her she spotted Zharnov, who didn't look half as tired as she felt.

Well, he hadn't been performing the night before. In fact, according to the company's social media he wasn't performing at all in the upcoming Nutcracker shows and would only be returning to the stage in the new year. She didn't fully understand why he was holding off on his big comeback, since he sure as hell seemed physically up for the challenge.

As she came up from a forward bend in between développés she slipped him another inquisitive glimpse, remarking that the long-sleeved white shirt he'd worn to class that morning showed off his toned torso and arms rather nicely. Under the harsh stage lights she could only just make out the silvery chain resting on his neck before it disappeared under the fabric of his shirt, drawing her eye to his elegant shoulders. Clearly physicality wasn't the problem, she thought.