I asked Nadia if she'd prefer to stay upstairs the next morning, while I went down to reiterate to my family that we were choosing to leave. She seemed reluctant, at first, to leave me the burden on my own, but after convincing her that I cared only that she was comfortable, she agreed to stay in my room. I went down to the breakfast room, finding Mother and Father, and the two LeClaire adults eating some porridge and reading. They looked up as I entered, expectant looks on their faces. They thought I was here to apologize.

I gave them a brief reminder of our conversation last night, and let them know that I already sent out a telegraph to the Lephards, asking if we could spend a few nights with them until we were able to find a judge who could marry us. After that, we would find an apartment of our own. They were welcome to come to the wedding, as well as visit us at any time, but it was best that we don't stay so close that we start burrowing under each other's skins.

Mother sniffled the whole time, but, to my surprise, seemed to take it better than she had last night. She nodded her head, agreeing that perhaps this was for the best, and already telling me she'd visit as soon as she could. I kissed her cheek, saying farewell, and shook Father's hand and Mr. LeClaires.

After all my goodbyes and thank yous were said, I went back to my room where Nadia sat on the chair, our packed bags already at her feet. We had to walk to the Lephards, so we decided to wait until the sun warmed the air a bit more.

A few minutes later, though, our plans changed yet again when the bell rang. At first, we thought it was just another of the LeClaire's guests, but then Nadia perked up, sitting upright in her chair.

"Hannabella!" she said, getting up and running to the door. She stuck her head into the hallway, listening as Hannabella's unmistakable voice drifted along the stairs. I hovered a little behind, but as soon as Nadia was sure that it was indeed her friend, she dashed from the room and disappeared into the foyer below.

I followed, understanding on a few words about hospitality and the duty of Flauns when it came to Rumonin refugees, before Nadia must have appeared in the midst of the conversation and cut it short. When I reached the small foyer, Nadia had Hannabella wrapped in a hug.

"Have you suddenly developed the gift of clairvoyance, darling?" Hannabella asked in Rumoni. "How did you know I was here?"

"I heard you."

Hannabella's eyes flickered to me, and I knew she had received the telegram. She knew a bit of what my family was like now, and it filled me with a bite of shame. I didn't want her to think ill of them, but I also knew that I couldn't stomach their words any longer.

Mrs. LeClaire, the person Hannabella had been chatting with, crossed her arms and ruffled her brow. She stared from Hannabella to me to Nadia, rotating in a circle, unsure what to do. I gathered Hannabella had lightly scolded her, which made her upset, but the power of Hannabella's fame also played a part here. Mrs. LeClaire would never dare to become too angry-- not with a woman so well known, so very talented, so very honored by the queen.

"At any rate, I came to see you, Nadia," Hannabella said, kissing her cheeks. She wore a deep green hat, swatched in tulle, and it bobbed against Nadia's hair. "Ferdinand told me that you would like to come back to stay, and of course I said yes."

As Hannabella talked, a rustle further back in the house drew me eyes down the hall. I caught a glimpse of a skirt as it whisked behind a corner, and sighed as I walked down to ferret out our audience members. Rounding the corner, I came upon Katya, pretending to be absorbed in the wallpaper pattern. With squinted eyes, she silently mouthed numbers as she ran her finger down the line of flowers in a row. I'd never seen her that concentrated on anything in her entire life.

I cleared my throat, even though she already knew I was there. She jumped, a bit too high, and spun around to look at me with huge eyes. "Oh, did you need something, Dinny?"

I sighed, but decided not to engage any further than I had to. "If you want to come say goodbye, do it now. We're leaving in a few minutes."

I turned to leave, and to my surprise Katya actually followed me. When we got back into the foyer, the rest of my family had arrived from the sitting room, staring at Hannabella with mouths slightly agape. Of course, they'd seen her when she'd dropped us off the first time, but I knew they still must be starstruck by her presence. Even Katya didn't say a word, which was highly unusual when she thought the attention was about to shift away from her.

"Are you ready to leave?" Hannabella asked. "I took the liberty of just popping over with my motorcar, to save you from a cold walk. I was thinking we might drop by the princess' home and say hello. She's engaged to be married, as you may know, and her groom-to-be simply adores the opera."

Mother's face paled at the mention of the princess. Queen Lenore's younger sister, and nearly one of the most fashionable and elegant women in the entirety of Flauns. If anyone had the key to becoming the top of the social pillar in this country, it was the princess.

"O-oh," Mother said, twisting her handkerchief in front of her. "You don't have to leave so soon."

"No, no, we wouldn't dream of inconveniencing you any further," Hannabella replied. "You've already done so much." It was obvious, to me at least, that she thought anything but what just came out of her mouth. She glanced at Nadia and winked, letting her on the joke as well.

Nadia smiled, leaning into Hannabella. "I hope the princess won't mind that we tag along."

Hannabella laughed. "No, of course not. She was going to invite her fiance and a few more of those sorts of people, and I was going to perform for them. I hope my singing won't be too much a disappointment to you. Who knows what sort of fun you could have gotten up to today instead of being forced to hear little old me singing Forsau pol Dannelle." It was the most famous of all her songs, and Mother looked ready to faint on the stairs. The thought of Hannabella Lephard, singing the song that made her famous in a private setting to the most elite of all of Flauns must have been worse than hearing the news that her darling son was about to marrying someone she didn't think fit. I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it, but I knew if I did then the little joke would be over. At least this way, my family felt a sting for pushing us out.

"I wouldn't dare miss your singing, Hannabella," Nadia replied. "We wouldn't want to disappoint the princess either."

Hannabella nearly lost herself to a burst of the giggles at this, but managed to choke out her agreement. "Of course not. She'd cry for days if you weren't there."

I took that moment to dash upstairs and gather up our luggage. I wanted to get out where I could breathe as soon as possible. I tucked our bags under my arms and came back down to see Hannabella smoothing Nadia's hair as if she were her mother.

"Well, let's not keep everyone waiting," I said. I shepherded Hannabell and Nadia toward the door, where we could see the motorcar parked on the curb. The LeClaires and my family wandered after us, still a bit in shock at what was happening, and I was glad they saw just how valued Nadia was to people with more social standing and fame than they could ever dream of.

Hannabella ignored everyone, pretending to be absorbed in telling Nadia some sort of gossip about high ranking people. It wasn't until we had piled into the motorcar, with Hannabella at the wheel, that she lost the ability to talk by falling into a hard laughter. Nadia flopped her head against the back of her seat in front, sighing and smiling. I sat in the back, running my hands over my face.

"Well, I think you scarred my mother and sister for life, Hannabella," I said, grinning.

Nadia, her smile making her face irresistibly adorable, glanced back at me for a moment, before addressing Hannabella. "Was that even true? Are you going to see the princess at all?"

By this time, Hannabella had pulled out onto the road, and we were careening through Flauns at a break-neck speed. It seemed that, though she owned this motorcar, she was not exactly entirely sure of the rules one was supposed to follow when it came to other vehicles. She whipped around them or stopped whenever she felt like it, leaving a trail of faint curses behind us as we roared along.

"Oh, of course it's true!" Hannabella yelled over the rush of wind. "That's why I came to pick you both up, instead of letting you walk over. I didn't want to leave you alone in the house all day. And the princess would love to meet you. She adores the arts!"

Nadia's face went pale, and my stomach churned. The princess! Neither of us were used to such high friends, and certainly neither of us felt like anyone who would be invited to a princess' house. Not now. Not after what we'd been through.

Hannabella, perhaps, did not sense the shift in the mood of the motorcar. She kept driving, humming under her breath as she squealed around a corner, heading toward the center of Ètrevay where houses the size of palaces, with blue roofs and ivory walls, crowded up against pure white fences and orange trees. The road turned to blonde bricks, laid in a herringbone pattern, and men and women strolled on the sidewalks, heading for the cafes.

By the time we pulled up to one of the mansions, its driveway already filled with motorcars, I almost felt like throwing up over the side. We were about to see the sister of the most powerful woman in all of Flauns. Would she take kindly to someone who had fought on the Vigilant Men's side, even if he was forced to? Would she tell her sister there was a traitor in their city? Would they suspect me of inciting riots? Of planning to murder them?

My hands shook as Hannabella stepped out of the motorcar and walked up to the front door, rapping on the shiny blue wood. She glanced back at Nadia and myself, beckoning us to follow her. Nadia got out first, reluctantly climbing the set of sandstone steps, and I followed soon after. Even if I couldn't stop shaking, I knew I couldn't wait in the vehicle for hours.

The house was just as grand on the inside as it was on the outside. Just the sort of place that a princess should live in. She'd decorated in the latest fashions, with pink and powder blue and black and white. It was definitely feminine, with so many flowers and feathers, that I felt like they might come to life as strange, couture animals.

A butler led us into a room where the princess and her guests waited for us. It was a brunch date, so we ate a heavy breakfast of foods from the finest chefs in all Ètrevay. The princess, Alice, was probably around my age, with a full figure and round face. I immediately thought of spaniel when I saw her, with her gleaming golden hair and large brown eyes, and she didn't disappoint the description with a cheery and outgoing personality. She immediately involved us in all the conversations, introducing her guests, though I couldn't keep them straight in my head except for Mr. Gramercie from the ballet. He nodded at me, but didn't yet approach me. I dreaded when he might.

Princess Alice seemed to particularly enjoy Nadia's company, which I was glad for. After a few minutes, Nadia's misgivings melted away, and she freely chatted with the princess. The groom-to-be, a man a few years older and not particularly handsome, kept Hannabella busy with talk of opera. It was he, no doubt at all, that was the recipient of the upcoming concert.

As soon as we'd all eaten our full of pastries and soups and tea, the groom ordered us into the music room, where he proudly took up post at the piano, ready to accompany his idol. Hannabella, all grace and charm, perched on a stool, and launched into Forsau pol Dannelle. Her voice, clearer than rain water and steady as a mountain, rolled across the room in waves. The song started out calm, but would later build to a heart-shattering climax. It had made her name known, and it was easy to see why. She transformed from our friend into an extension of the music, her face downtrodden but still proud. She was entirely the character, and she was inviting us into her world.

As Hannabella sang, everyone was enraptured. Of course, my eyes swung to Nadia, who looked as if she'd seen the gates of heaven themselves. She stared at Hannabella, a small smile frozen on her face, her eyes wide with awe. She'd never heard Hannabella sing before, I realized.

"Popov."

I looked to my right, where Mr. Gramercie had placed himself. He kept his eyes on Hannabella, but continued to whisper.

"I won't beat around the bush, man," he said. "Galina and myself think it correct to start a proper ballet. We want you to be one of our principle dancers. I more than want. I need."

I swallowed hard. "Thank you, but isn't it a bit--"

"It's not a bit anything. It's a matter of knowing when a real star is dropped in your lap. You've got talent falling out of your ears. I could give you any choreography that I can imagine, and you'd be able to dance it."

I stared at my hands, clasped in my lap. Nadia and I had talked about dancing, about being a lead once again. I still wasn't sure.

Mr. Gramercie pushed. "We want to show the world that Rumonin will not fall, even if the Vigilant managed to take our city from us." He tapped the armrest between us. "This is how we will fight them. This is how we will bring them to justice. By not letting our dance die."

His words struck through me, stilling my shaking hands and bringing my eyes up to his. He knew, I could tell, that I had been forced to fight for the Vigilant Men. Perhaps all the young men escaping the city had done the same. At any rate, he could see my guilt, read my pain. He knew that I needed to reclaim my loyalty. He knew I needed a cause to fight for that was my own.

"All right, Mr. Gramercie," I whispered, as Hannabella rose from her chair, her hand dancing in the air. The song was relentless now, desperate, just like the character who realized she must run away from the man she loved so she could rule her country.

"You'll dance?" he replied, eyes shining.

"Yes," I replied, for once sure of something. For once ready to move forward. "I'll dance in your ballet."