Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 18

A gift, the small piece of paper reads, attached to a nondescript brown box. Without a second thought, I rip off the tape sealing it shut and push open the brown flaps.

And discover a black dress with thin straps inside along with another note.

More than likely, you don't have appropriate wear for tonight's ceremony. It was the least I could do; you'll look pretty in it.

— E.M.

The initials of Elara Merandus, as said in the Academy's pamphlet. Her cursive scrawl is pristine and light, and the ink is every bit as immaculate as the woman herself. I toss the second piece of paper to the floor beside my bed.

Sneering, I gingerly remove the cream tissue paper enveloping the dress. It's bad enough I found this box on my bed when I returned from practicing in an empty studio this morning, meaning either Elara instructed a maid to leave it here or Elara herself has access to my room. I shiver at the thought but pull out the dress anyway.

Well. Shit. The inky material is smooth and soft beneath my fingers, thicker than I expected something made of silk would be. Good; better than an overpriced, chintzy dress from a mediocre boutique I would've had to trudge to this afternoon. At least Elara got that right.

I hold it up, straps at eye level. Once I've put it on, the skirt will stop just below my knees. It flares out at the hips from a relatively tight bodice and at the top rests a sweetheart neckline. Pretty, I can't help but think.

God, I haven't felt like this much of a girl in a long time, between Elara's gift and yesterday's shopping trip.

Half annoyed, half weak at the knees from staring at the simple yet bewitching garment, I lay it flat on my mattress next to the pair of heels I found at the box's side when I returned to my room. Like the dress, they're black and plain, yet not unremarkable: they're lustrous, spots becoming bright as I turn them over in my hands, and will give me some much-needed height.

I feel a mild sensation of bile rolling in my stomach. For once, I wish I could be happy for Elara's gift. She hit right on the mark with her selection for me, nothing extravagant or theatrical, and it was kind of her to remember I might not have the right sort of . . . attire for the ceremony. I give her that.

On the other hand, there has to be some ulterior motive, when I have a hard time believing the women actually likes me. Her cold eyes and judgmental expressions don't suggest otherwise. Whether it be to get in my good graces, to make me a docile student—though I wouldn't dare behave in any other manner—make me in debt to her, or for another purpose I don't yet understand . . . I need to stop overanalyzing this.

Taking a deep breath, I round my bed and sprawl out on the side not crowded by new things. And attempt to stop overanalyzing.

<><><>

It rains.

Hard.

Outside of the lobby, behind the glass windows protecting it, rests an overcast New York. And it's not just a few puffy white clouds passing over the sun, but a thick blanket of charcoal erasing every inch of July's crystalline blue sky. The street outside is dark like it's the end of dusk and nearly nighttime, but the sun won't set for another hour. From the sky spills tremendous amounts of rain, soaking every inch of the city in the water it's needed for over two weeks.

It storms too.

Thunder booms far off, and the windows flicker with distant flashes of lightning. I suppose Shade's wish finally came true for a storm to wash out all this heat.