Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 13

"Where are we going?" I ask Lucas, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him up yet another flight of stairs.

"Mister Calore's office," Lucas says simply. I bite my tongue when I could've told him that. But he continues, saying, "You're lucky I'm taking you up the back route instead of through the lobby. They're all gathered there, you know."

The entire audience? The stage lights dulled, and the auditorium doors opened, indicating another break. But for all of them to gather? Just for a closer look?

I steal a quelling breath. I won't have to pass through the lobby or the audience. It's fine. Everything's going to be fine.

"After everything you've done today, I'm surprised you're so nervous about this part," Lucas says, shaking his head. "Any of those dancers downstairs would kill to go to Tiberias Calore's office and discuss matters of dancing."

For everything said, I only pay attention to the name. "Tiberias?" I say in the most respectful manner I can.

Lucas doesn't bother with repressing his laugh, echoing off the stairs. "I have no idea why a father would name his child that. Cal's real name is Tiberias, by the way, like his dad. I dare you to call him that some time." Lucas's chuckling dies in his throat. "Who told him you could dance? He didn't take no for an answer when he suggested you audition."

Rather than conjure up a lie, I go for the truth. Or a partial truth, at least. Lies always come back to bite me in the butt. "I was cleaning one of the studios this morning, and he saw me messing around with my turns. I guess Cal thought it'd be a shame if I didn't audition, so when I ended up falling onstage . . . he pushed it." I don't tell Lucas about meeting him outside of a bar, or Cal's convincing words in the studio.

"Cal knows talent when he sees it. He's the best dancer under twenty years old at the Academy. Of course, his old man wouldn't let it be otherwise." Lucas shakes his head disbelievingly again. "My family's been working and practicing under the Calores for years, and I've always seen Cal at the top of his class. Yet he's humble, which is more refreshing than you'd believe."

"I believe it," I say, turning with Lucas as we reach the top of the staircase. "The people who dance here aren't very nice, are they?" Evangeline can't be the only one. "Your whole family has dealings with the Calores?"

"More or less. My parents and Evangeline's have business dealings with them dating far back, and Evangeline has basically been bred to dance for this company her whole life."

"Business dealings?"

Lucas eyes me sidelong. "Trust me. It's all more boring than you can possibly imagine."

Our conversation fades away as we walk down the hallway. Identical to the ones upstairs, with the sunset marble and cream walls. On the side closest to the stairs, there are classrooms, and on the left . . . offices, I'd guess., by the closed doors and nameplates.

Between the doors along the left wall rest framed paintings and photographs of men that are long passed away. The first half of the hallway contains the paintings, blooming with rich color and eyes that I swear watch me. Further down are the photographs, evolving from gritty black and white to technicolor to modern and regular. Some wear fashion hundreds of years outdated, the newer ones in simple suits. Caesar, Julias, Tiberias, Marcas, Tiberias, Tiberias . . .

If their stern, forboding expressions didn't have me jumping out of my skin, their names do.

What a family history.

I scuff my pointe shoes, cross my arms, and look at the marble. I wonder if I would've ended up mopping this floor later in the week. Even if I can see a dull reflection of myself in it.