Page 11 of Muse

"And you should. We're going to put on quite the show," he said with a wry smile, and his dark eyes moved between me and the woman beside him. She was beautiful, with coppery red hair and ash-brown skin. "Isadore, this is Jessalyn. She's performed at the Sudamon Ashorilida for the past four years and has the role of the primamusa."

The primamusa had the most complicated performance and was the one most featured in what would otherwise be an ensemble. I wasn't surprised to learn that Jessalyn held the title, considering how fluid and elegant her movements were even when she walked and how her skin seemed to glow, even though she wasn't summoning her magik right now.

“Have you been to Sudamon before?” Jessalyn asked.

“Once, but I’ve never been to the palace,” I said.

“I am quite familiar with how things are done here, so I would be happy to show you around,” Jessalyn offered.

I smiled up at her in relief. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

"Jessalyn, why don't you take Isadore to the dormitory so she can rest and change before our first rehearsal?" Soren suggested. "We have much to do and very little time to do it."

"Excellent idea." Jessalyn looped her arm through mine and started leading me away when Soren stopped us.

“Here. Let me take your bag.” He reached over to take it from me, and his fingers brushed against mine. “I’m not allowed in your room, but I can carry it just outside.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” I protested weakly, relinquishing without a real fight.

"Let him do the work today. We'll be doing most of it during the Ashoralida," Jessalyn said with a laugh. "The dorms here are very comfortable and chic, and we even have our private courtyard to relax in. Make sure to drink plenty of water and rest often since you're not used to performing in the desert."

“I can handle that,” I said.

As we walked through the gardens toward the dormitory building on the western side of the palace, I glanced back over my shoulder. Soren was following a step behind us, my bag in his hand, and when I looked at him, he was watching me with a curious glint in his eyes.

Chapter 8

Jessalyn hadn't been lying about our dorm. Each muse had been given their private chambers, and they were comfortable but still had the flourishes of grandeur expected from a royal property. My room was bright and airy, and the light linens were all warm earth tones. Thick drapes framed the large window for privacy and to block out the intense desert sun.

Unfortunately, I quickly learned that I would spend hardly any time in my room. Since the Ashoralida called for multiple elaborate performances over three days, we had two weeks to rehearse in the Sudamon palace ballroom, and we had to make the most of it.

I had only just hung up the clothing I'd packed in the wardrobe when Jessalyn fetched me for a fitting. For a muse, each festival required different custom attire. Talented garment makers had them mostly complete by the time we arrived because two weeks wasn't nearly enough time to make exquisitegowns, rompers, and pantsuits that could hold up to three intensive performances.

I was whisked down to a dressing room, where a rather short man and a very tall woman flitted about me, taking measurements and poking me with pins. My dress was too small in the middle, which wasn't uncommon since I was on the thicker side for a muse. I couldn't do a proper fitting that day, but the designers assured me it would be perfect when Ashoralida began.

Then, I was immediately pushed out the door and down to the ballroom to begin our first rehearsal. There was a lot of choreography to go over – both dancing and magickal – and Soren wanted to get right down to it.

All the muses took their places in a circle, and Soren stood in the center. For the first rehearsals, he wouldn't sing. Instead, he spoke directions out loud and conducted with his hands in quick, sinuous movements. His words were instructions for our steps, and his hands were for our magik.

We had only been practicing for a few minutes when he snapped, “Isadore Dellamousa! Shoulders back and focus on your hands.”

That would be the first of many, many times he called out my name during rehearsal. Reminders to keep my chin up, my movements smooth, concentrate on my breathing, focus on my steps, and, most of all, to shine my light.

“Light, Isadore!” Soren shouted. “Let it go! Make it bright!”

Finally, in frustration, I snapped, “I am! I can’t go any brighter!”

He scowled at me and shook his head, and I was suddenly filled with the most profound regret—not only for talking back but also because I couldn't go any brighter. I was giving it all I had, and where his dark eyes once held a curious respect for me, I only saw disappointment.

“Perhaps we should take a break,” Jessalyn interjected. “We’re all tired, and it’s only day one.”

Soren stared at me a moment longer, and all I wanted to do was wither up under the weight of his gaze. When he finally looked away from me, I let out a shaky breath.

"Fine, rest up tonight," he said. "We start tomorrow at dawn and will give it our all."

With that, he turned and stalked out of the ballroom, and I feared that I might throw up.

"The first day is always rough," Jessalyn assured me warmly. "Not just for us, but for the enchanters too. Giving each other a little grace is good, and I know you'll do better tomorrow."

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