Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 46

Yay yay yay! Another chapter in the books! Do let me know what you think! I love the comments, so keep them coming! <3

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When I return to my apartment the following afternoon, I realize that I've made a mistake.

Staring at my fridge, I take in the colors and lines of an incredibly damning family photograph. It was taken with Gee's self-timer on Christmas day two or three years ago, and all of my family members are featured in it. Mom convinced Dad to wear matching ugly sweaters, my brothers and I are wearing flannel pants, and Gee sports a homemade robe. Beneath our sparsely-decorated Christmas tree wait the Christmas presents that have yet to be opened.

If there's one thing that Mom always takes seriously, it was Christmas.

But that's not the point.

The pajama-clad boy in the photograph between me and Shade is undoubtedly, damningly Kilorn Warren, though nowadays, he's better known as the nameless terrorist who tried to assassinate Ptolemus Samos two nights ago.

Better known as the strange waiter who gave me the strange look.

Somebody destroyed the mugshots the NYPD got of Farley and Kilorn. The only maid that every steps foot in my apartment is Ann. I have nothing to worry about.

Still, I gingerly peel the photo off my fridge.

Swallowing, I head up the stairs of my apartment, deciding it's time I hide it along with the red envelope from my brother.

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Blonos, deciding that a day and a half is enough rest for the ballet company, hosts an evening technique class.

Upon entering, I notice that for once, the studio's clinical lights are dimmed to a warmer shade. The rows of barres are already out, and half of the company is already here, murmuring quietly amongst themselves and otherwise warming up. Nothing looks especially different. If not for the lights, it could be an ordinary morning at the Calore Dance Academy.

I made my bun too tight before coming here, sticking in it too many bobby pins and attacking it with too much hairspray. I threw on the first leotard I reached for in my closet, along with a pair of tights. Then came my navy-blue warm-up pants and a fleece, along with my beloved moon boots.

And now I'm here, feeling too well-rested, acting like everything's okay, and inwardly complaining about my too-tight bun.

"Miss Barrow."

After Saturday evening, I'm plenty used to hearing my name from lips that I don't recognize, and I have no trouble turning around myself.

Cal's bronze eyes regard mine, but I don't have to tilt my head up to find them. In fact, the grey-haired woman that I face might be a half an inch shorter than me.

"Missus Lerolan," I say, remembering Cal and Maven's grandmother's last name as I offer the woman a small smile and a nod of my head. But beneath my eyelashes, I can't help but gaze up and survey those bronze eyes. I find nothing sad or angry in them, and they don't look tired, either.

One of the Scarlet Street Fighters shot and killed her brother at the gala. She must've not been close to Belicos, though, if she's here this evening, wearing the attire of a ballet mistress. But her expression isn't the stern one of Blonos or Elara, and Anabel's mouth softens as she begins to speak.

"It's a terrible thing that I called you upstairs on Saturday evening," she says by way of apology. "You would've been much safer where you were further into the ballroom, downstairs. I'm sorry."