Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 39

Oof. Another crazy-long chapter. These gala scenes are pretty intricate when it comes to writing, and I just love bringing them to life with every detail possible. I can't say when the last time was that I managed to write a 6K word chapter in a week. I hope ya'll love it.

I have a number of songs to recommend for this chapter. I'll list them at the end.

Follow @Natthefantastic for updates! And a big thanks to @chloe_yi05 for being my editor!

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"That's so wonderful to hear," I say, shaking yet another woman's hand. An obnoxious number of jewels click together at her wrist with the motion, and her rings cut into my palm. She's older, and other than her precious gemstones, she wears an exquisite salmon gown and too much makeup that fails to mask her age.

The socialite just purchased balcony tickets to the opening night of Giselle. She and her family are regular patrons of the Manhattan Dance Academy's ballets, and apparently, they've become beyond-intrigued with the two seventeen-year-olds who have risen to such prominence at the company. For minutes, the woman's gushed about how proud we must be, how excited we must be to dance at the Met when we're only teenagers.

"Congratulations again," she says for what isn't the first time. "I have no doubt that the two of you will live up to everything that Tiberias Calore has claimed of you."

I only smile, feeling that it would stupid to tell her that I hope the same.

I wonder what Tiberias Calore has claimed of me tonight, as he's talked to his guests. When he hasn't seen me dance in the flesh in so long, I hope that somebody's kept him up to speed and he isn't just spouting out random, nonsensical things.

The socialite promenades away, and I loosen a silent breath.

Maven, Cal, and I continue our walk along the bridge that Anabel and the Calores stood on earlier. Wishing for another glass to hold, I tuck my hands behind me as we cross the long span of marble, a floor flooded with meandering guests and wine below. It seems that at galas—or at this gala anyway—there isn't much to do other than talk to members of high-society, drink, and spend money on ballet tickets.

"You seem to be having fun," Cal remarks, and I know without glancing that he wears his usual smile. He must think it's hilarious to see me saying things like that's so wonderful to hear and smiling and shaking hands when I'm nothing like this anywhere else. I'm certainly nothing like this around him.

"Seem," I echo. "Yeah, I seem to be having fun. Believe it or not, Cal, but I'd rather be dancing with you right now."

That earns a humorless chuckle from Cal. "Wow. You must be absolutely miserable, then."

Yes. Considering that these socialites are stressing me out and considering that the Scarlet Street Fighters are attacking this place in a matter of an hour and some odd minutes, I'm absolutely miserable.

I chuckle a little too. "But to look is to be, right?" I add.

"Maybe in ballet and maybe here, Mare."

It's enough for me to look at him, and I can't help the glower that pops up on my face.

"But your stage faces aren't going to fly with me."

Though I sensed his retort was coming and though I brought up our lessons at all, I still roll my eyes. "Ah, yes. Because contemporary dancing's all about feeling and emotions," I simper the words, shaking my head in disapproval. "And throwing yourself on the floor. Gross."