Page 3 of Stolen Fate

I smiled. If I was Emilia’s biggest fan, then Dad was a close second. There was nothing he would want more than to see all of her dreams come true.

“Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll be out soon.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I caught sight of my little sister’s shiny light hair. Cameron was walking beside her, and he said something that made her laugh just as her eyes caught mine and she let out a cry.

“Evelyn!” She flew into my arms and we were jumping up and down, the large trophy between us. The sharp edges of it dug into my ribs a little, but I didn’t care. “Did you see me up there? Did you? I still can’t believe I won.”

“I can. You earned the right to that first-place trophy, and I am so, so proud of you.”

I pulled back a little and wiped Emilia’s tears with my fingers, glad she opted to wear the waterproof mascara this morning.

Dad grabbed his cane and moved toward us. We both turned to him, and then Emilia was engulfed in his arms, her slender frame almost buried in our dad’s much bigger one. I stood to the side with a smile.

It had only been five years since my mom’s passing, and I still felt her loss every day. I had been close to her before she died when I was seventeen, but Emilia was a Daddy’s girl, through and through. She was his baby, and his light, and that was okay by me, because I was my mom’s best friend.

I wiped away the tears that had fallen down my cheeks just as Cameron engulfed me into his large frame. “Ah, Evelyn. You shouldn’t cry. It’s a happy day.”

“I know,” I said, burying my head in his chest. But as nice and wonderful as the day was, there was always a constant ache, a reminder that my mom wasn’t there to see it. She put so much of her time and effort into Emilia’s dancing that it was as much her day as it was Emilia’s.

Cameron’s arms tightened around me. I would always be fond of the boy who grew up protecting my little sister. They’d been best friends since they were five, when Cameron showed up to my mom’s dance studio for lessons.

I squeezed him. “This is really it,” I said. “She will get accepted into Julliard’s program after this.”

Cameron was going to a local university this fall. Unlike Emilia, he didn’t live and breathe dance, but that was okay—not many people understood the kind of passion that ran through her veins. Hell, even I didn’t understand it. Emilia knew what she wanted to do since she was three, while I had spent the majority of my life running around, searching for that spark—the one my mom found when she watched Emilia dance, and the spark my little sister found whenever she performed on stage.

Just as Dad and Emilia pulled apart, a formidable looking lady with dark charcoal hair pulled back in a tight bun approached. We quieted as soon as she was near, and Emilia looked like she was trying hard to just stay still.

She let out a quiet gasp as I watched the woman, wondering why my little sister looked like she had seen a ghost.

The lady smiled a little, her short stature taking up so much of the space in the auditorium that I had to fight the urge to turn away from her.

“Ah, so you know who I am,” the lady said, speaking with a heavy English accent. I turned curiously to Emilia, who looked as though she would’ve passed out had my dad not been holding onto her so tightly.

All the blood drained from Emilia’s face, and she looked panicked.

“You’re… you… that is to say…” Suddenly, Emilia rushed forward and clasped the hand the woman had held out to her. “It is such an honor to meet you, Mrs. Abernathy. I have followed your career closely since I was a little girl and my mom took me to one of your performances. You have no idea how much I admire you.”

The woman seemed pleased with Emilia’s greeting, if the twinkle in her eyes were any indication, and I hid my smile in Cameron’s chest. Emilia was quite charming, even when she didn’t mean to be. There was just something about her that drew people in, and I knew the woman—Mrs. Abernathy—was no exception.

“Then you know that I am the director and head choreographer at Bowing’s Dance Academy in London.”

“Yes,” Emilia said in a rush. “That was where you trained, and where only the best of the best is accepted. The school only takes a handful of students every two years or so, and most everyone who graduates goes on to win the Prix Benois de la Danse.”

Mrs. Abernathy nodded, her lips curving slightly into what I think was a smile. I had a feeling that was the only smile we would ever see on her. She didn’t look like someone who was easily impressed.

“Yes, which is why I wanted to personally offer you a spot for the upcoming Fall term. That is, if you’re interested.” Her smirk told me she already knew what Emilia’s answer would be.

Only Emilia didn’t answer her. Her mouth was open, but nothing came out. The only thing she seemed capable of giving was a nod.

“Good,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “Bowing’s has already obtained your contact information from your school. We’ll be in touch soon, Emilia. We expect great things from you.”

And with that, she walked away. For being such a tiny woman, she sure garnered a lot of attention. I looked back to see Cameron leading Emilia to the seat Dad had occupied moments before, and then my little sister put her head between her legs, trying her best not to freak out.

I moved over to them in time to hear her say, “I can’t believe Nadir Abernathy just talked to me. Me! Is this a dream? Someone pinch me.”

Cameron pinched her.

“Ow. Hey, what was that?” she glared at him, and he laughed.

“What? You asked.”

“I didn’t mean it literally, you doofus!” She moved over to him and tried to hit him, but Emilia was slender and not really built for anything but ballet. Cameron let out a laugh and easily held her off. Dad and Alice watched on with smiles on their faces, and though I wanted to enjoy the moment, the only thing I could think of was how in the hell we were supposed to pay for such a prestigious school.

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