When the carriage stopped my heart nearly did too. I'd always loved the opera house, it was a huge building which my grandma Jane had helped to design. It was beautiful and illuminated by lamps on all sides and the only thing better than seeing it again myself was seeing Evie's reaction to it.

"I've seen photographs of this place before." She murmured, her hand still in mine from when I helped her out of the carriage. "They don't do it justice." Then she turned back to me and I could see printed on her face that sheer wonder I had felt as a boy.

"Shall we?" Father's voice cut through the night air and I snapped my hand back to my side when he and mother came around the side of their carriage. Father shed a backwards glance at me, mother kept her face to the opera house, then they began to walk in. I offered Evie my arm and she seemed hesitant to take it until Angel came into view. We fell into line behind them, then Fana and Angel behind us, then Fenester and Annabelle, finally Tristan and Holly.

The short walk from the courtyard into the theatre was quiet, but as soon as we got into the lobby there was an all too familiar press of bodies on all sides. I had to keep my gaze straight ahead so as not to give unnecessary attention to a random courtier who might go telling, but I wanted to reassure Evie in case she was stressing. I ran my thumb over her fingers, still having to continue on straight. It was too easy to facilitate rumours.

I silently thanked myself for making us a little late as we were led straight into the royal box by a pair of nervous footmen.

All eyes from the stalls turned to us and there was a harsh rustling of silk as the thousands of eyes focused on my parents, the others, me, and most probably the pale girl on my arm. I knew the whispers were already forming themselves on the people's tongues.

I barely noticed when mother and father sat down at the front of our box. I sat down too and Evie sat down next to me.

"This is the most beautiful place I've ever been." I heard Evie whisper beneath her breath.

I took two of her fingers again in mine and squeezed them, looking at her as she looked out across the audience. If I wasn't so anxious for her to like me I might not have seen a small smile flicker across her lips. The lights dimmed then and the orchestra began to play.

As six dancers emerged from either side of the stage, dressed in light pink tutus, the girl next to me slipped her fingers out from mine to fold her hands in her lap. She sat forward on her seat and watched them whilst I seemed to be unable to stare anywhere but at her.

My gaze broke eventually, when a man in a royal costume ran onstage. He was Renly Ivorian, the principal male dancer in the royal ballet company. I'd seen him in so many things and every time I watched he made me feel as though I could've attempted his profession in another life. The fact that he was playing a prince in this instance made me laugh.

Ivorian's pas de deux with Maria Henscroft (the female principal) drew to a close with an almost impossible lift. She was on pointe, the toes of her slippers placed on his forearm, which was held just in front of his chest, his spare arm rested on her calves. It seemed completely effortless, no shake nor bead of sweat betrayed this incredible stunt they had managed. With the final crescendo of the music, Henscroft dropped back into Ivorian's arms, her character fainted, and he carried her offstage.

Then the lights went up then and the audience clapped. They stood to applaud the orchestra and dancers and the second I saw father begin to rise, I did too.

Theatre is magical. It's one of the only times the upper class can experience exactly the same emotion as each other and show it. It's community. Community we can never normally achieve, unlike the people in the villages. Mrs Conygham, Freya, all the people in Definis, they didn't need the theatre like we upper class did.

It should be avaliable to them, mind, but it isn't as much of a lifeline, unlike affordable food, or their sons, brothers and fathers being alive, not forced away to war.

The applause died down and I turned to face Evie, who was smiling in earnest. There were a few moments before we'd be ushered out, and she used those few moments to lean over so I could hear her.

"This is the first night I've been happy here." I looked down at her, her smile inciting my own, then realised that mother and father were leading us out, so I tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow.

"Were you really not happy these past few days?" I murmured. She stared up at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I've told you that every night." She whispered. "I don't lie when it comes to my emotions."

I made a mental note of that, then whispered back. "Good luck, we're going in." As we emerged into the nobility stuffed foyer. I scanned the crowd for someone interesting to introduce Evie to.

"Drink?" Afanasy popped up beside me, then he hid a look which seemed mildly irritated at the lady on my arm. "My apologies, Lady Bence. I didn't see you there." He disappeared back into the crowd and I made a note to go and find him later.

"Look there's the dancers!" Evie exclaimed, her quiet voice still almost lost to the chatter in the foyer. I looked to where she was nodding and saw Ivorian and Henscroft chattering with a small crowd of people.

"Perhaps we ought to go over and speak to them, to find out where they got the plot for this ballet for. It seems oddly reminiscent of our ordeal with the ball and we couldn't have them plagiarising could we?" I murmured and she laughed, her nose wrinkled and added to the whoosh of emotion I'd forced upon myself when I referred to "our" ordeal.

"Don't you know the legend of Arya and Gentilé? That's what this is based on. Your Highness it's even called Gentilé!" She exclaimed, her eyes focused on the dancers. I felt a sudden surge of embarrassment and kept an eye out for any passing champagne flutes.

"Come on then." I murmured, when I had deduced that there were none within reach. Just as I was about to lead her over to them, Angel managed to intercept me. "Good evening, your Highness." She sank into a reverence deep enough that I had to notice her. When I looked to Evangeline to share an irritated glance with her, I noticed that she had slipped away from me. Not at liberty to go and find her, I turned back to Angel.

"Enjoying the ballet?" She asked, standing too close to me.

"Quite. Ivorian is easily my favourite dancer around." I put on the easy smile and wished I'd joined Fana for that drink.

Angel was about to comment further when there was a commotion by the doors.

"-are dying!" I heard a frantic female voice shout. "End the war!"

There were screams then. Screams even before the bomb went off.