Chapter One

The stage had a draw.

It sang to both audience and the performer more beautifully than the fabled merfolk and its draw would not be resisted.

Rich, tarnished boards and deep velvet curtains. Unlike the stalls and balcony with their crystal and chandeliers, it was plain as a newborn babe and yet vast in history, just like the building it resided in.

The greats had stepped there. Their footprints were ingrained into those boards and surely they had left part of their aura and soul. 

A  gift and guide to any fortunate enough to follow them.

The grandeur of the opera house was still intimidating when one approached. Built on the behest of a ruler of old for his mistress, no expense had been spared in its construction. It was highly eclectic and borrowed inspiration from the finest around the world. Both facade and interior left no space without plushness or decoration, using a combination of deep hues and gold trim.

Brass for cheaper seats. Even the lowest class, at least the lowest who had coins to spare, had to be considered.

The Emperor's picture took pride of place in the foyer. Staring down with smug confidence. On his arm, his wide stared blankly, her portrait done with less care as if it had been an afterthought. Or maybe she knew that another woman had been the recipient of this generosity?

In later years, as an ironic jape, someone had put a small painting of the aforesaid woman in the backrooms where the performers rehearsed. It seemed only fitting. After all, she had supported the theatre and its interests until her untimely death.

That led to yet another eerie tale of spirits. 

Noelle had heard them all. And disbelieved them all.

He would admit, as he wandered in awe over the empty stage, that they gave the theatre a more enigmatic feel. The idea that the lost and the idols of the time were still present was inspiring, to say the least. But they were just stories. No more, no less.

He took a breath, inhaling the stale smell of smoke and the subtle undertone of polished wood and braced himself for the day.

Handsome, young and virile. Noelle Cellier had been a dancer with the resident company for two years, after many more gruelling ones at school.

A scrawny child with flat feet, the doctor had recommended dance as a remedy to build his body and correct the flaws. Little did he know that the magic of the ballet would enchant his soul and the lanky blonde would develop into a well-built and handsome man with the grace an angel might envy and masculine strength that warriors craved.

He made a fine partner to the star ballerinas, showing them off and making them look far better than they were. His sculpted features and deep blue eyes made it almost impossible to spot any errors she might make in his arms.

Yet despite this skill, he languished like most men in his profession. The ballet masters always focused on the women and seldom looked at their partners as more than props. 

"But I will still captivate in some way," Noelle said to himself and whirled across to the wings, barely lifting the dust in his wake. "It may just be myself, the thought of dancing where the greatest names in history did before me is a waking dream."

He should have heading to the studio. Already he could hear the sounds of the pianist warming up. She always arrived early though. She was a hefty woman and her breath left her faster than she could take it in and it took some time for her to regain it and give life back to her talented but podgy fingers.

'The bells!' The older students giggled when she passed and saw her hips and bosom undulate. But they wouldn't disagree that she was a marvellous pianist.

Noelle felt foolish as he hesitated and listened to the cheerful tune, recognising it as the peasant waltz from Giselle. He could not help himself and span around, his arm proudly stretched to the invisible audience.

He knew much of the choreography off by heart and lost himself in his movement, adding his own steps to enhance and personalise his performance. 

His feet are like magnets against the floorboards, steady and sure, then pushing away into grander and higher jumps than ever. He feels like flying, like an all-powerful bird. He was not without flaws though, and he could feel them. Those stinging flaws that held him back from greatness.

"Stop messing about!"

Karl's voice cut through Noelle like a jagged knife.

The ballet master stood nearby, his arms folded and eyes narrowed as he regarded the young man. He hadn't shaved that day and stubble littered his broad chin and made his tight frown look even sterner.

"Your foot placement is wrong again," he added coldly, despite not even looking at it. "If you want to keep up with Alexandre and dance with my leading ladies more, you need to work on it. And that begins in the studio, so move along!"

He saw nothing of the strength and talent. The perfect tone of the muscles and feet which didn't miss a beat, even if they fell slightly out of line on occasion.

All he saw was someone reaching higher than he ought, to stars that should not even be graced with the fingertips, let alone seized. 

"Sorry, Sir," Noelle's shoulders slumped and his confidence drifted away. "I will be right there."

He resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out behind the retreating back. Especially given the disdainful snort his answer had been awarded. But it was better than not being acknowledged at all. Being ignored was a sign that they had no hope whatsoever. He'd seen two or three women reduced to panicking wrecks when a class went by without a word of advice or criticism.

As he walked to the wings, a chill scampered down his spine and the strange sensation that he was being watched ran through his body.

He turned and hastily ran his eyes over the rows of seats. Each one was empty and the whole theatre was devoid of life.

'Any visible life...' The thought came unbidden into his mind and he scowled in annoyance at his imagination. 'I'm getting carried away. The only thing that could be watching is a rat. Lord knows there are plenty of those pests."

He tossed his head, sweat clinging to his brow but quickly dashed away and he headed hastily towards the studio.

But from the highest point in the auditorium, something moved. A single shadow slipped away and vanished from sight.