The auditorium on the other side smelled of stale smoke and shattered dreams.
Tella told herself to smile. To make a good impression. To find out who the imposter was.
But the stage lanterns were unnaturally bright. They blinded her eyes and seared her skin until fresh sweat pooled across her chest. She could see as far as the edge of the dull green stage floor, but it was too hard to see who was in the audience.
“Now turn around and show us your backside.” It was the same voice she’d heard before, only now that she was on the other side of the curtain, she was sure that the voice was too low and gravelly to be Legend’s.
She felt a little relief knowing for certain that she was right, and that Legend truly wasn’t behind this. But then what was this imposter doing? What was he after? How long had he been pretending to be Legend? Tella squinted, trying to discern who addressed her and to see if anyone else was with him.
“Your backside,” the voice repeated.
“Actually.” Tella took a bold step forward, her tiny green heels clicking against the scuffed stage floor. “I’m only here to see Legend.”
Gasps fluttered Tella’s way from the girls standing at the side of the stage.
“Throw her out of here!” commanded the gravelly voice.
“No. Leave her.” A new voice filled the theater, smooth as silk against bare skin.
Tella felt her own flesh prickle, but not with bubbles of sparkling wine. This feeling was the opposite of light; it doused the heat of the theater’s lanterns and coated her exposed limbs in dark colors that came in shades of broken promises and moonless nights.
This was not Legend.
But this imposter felt like someone.
“You must be Legend,” Tella said.
“Did I say that you could speak?” The imposter’s dark voice was no longer silky, but it still held heavy notes of magic.
Tella had a creeping fear that this imposter was far more sophisticated than she’d first assumed. She might not have known who he was, but she could feel that he was magical, and she feared he was also powerful.
“Escort her to my private chambers,” he said.
The young man with the black beard stepped out from behind the heavy red curtain and grabbed hold of Tella’s upper arm. “Looks as if you’re getting your wish.”
“Your grip is a little rough,” she said.
“Oh, sorry, is this better?” The bearded man snorted out a laugh as he tightened his fingers and yanked her back through the stage’s curtains.
Tella’s elbow itched to bury itself in this young man’s stomach, and her legs desperately wanted to kick. She had to remind herself she wasn’t a captive.
She had chosen this.
She wanted to meet the imposter Legend.
But if this was her choice, if she wasn’t truly a prisoner, then why was this young man gripping her arm so hard?
Tella tensed at the sight of two more young men waiting behind the stage with grinning nutcracker* masks covering their faces and lengths of red ropes in their hands.
Suddenly all Tella could hear were her sister’s words from earlier:
Tomorrow is Great Holiday Eve. Think of what a gift you could be if some
group of bandits found you tromping about alone, and decided to take you hostage and bring you back to their leader.
Tella decided it might be a good idea to struggle after all. She whirled on the bearded man who held her captive, hoping to punch him with her free hand.
But the men in the nutcracker masks moved quicker.
“Let me go!” She kicked wildly as the blackguards grabbed her wrists and tied them behind her back with the rope.
“I have very powerful friends, and if you don’t release me, you’ll all be dead!”
“But, Your Highness, I thought you wanted to meet Legend,” said one of the nutcrackers.
The bearded young man laughed, and then he smiled, sharklike, as he held up a length of red fabric and tied it over Tella’s eyes.
