Hi, guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks. I've been out of town, and I'll be gone again in a couple weeks. I should have time to update once or twice before I leave, then I can (hopefully) get back into a regular pattern at the end of the summer. I really appreciate all the positive feedback in your comments; reading them really makes my day. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope you keep enjoying it all the way to the end!
That afternoon, I unpacked my bag. I had just finished hanging my own clothes next to the elegant ballgowns in the wardrobe when a box on the top shelf captured my attention. A moment of deliberation later, I tugged it off the shelf. Pots had said I could use anything in the wardrobe, after all. The box was heavier than I expected, however, and it almost slipped from my grasp before I could dig my fingers into the smooth carvings that riddled the dark wood. A bronze latch held the dusty lid closed. I heaved the box to the ground, unlatched the lid, and opened it.
A jumbled rainbow of fabric and a flurry of perfumed air greeted me. I pulled the colors out one by one: a scarf, a veil, a baggy silk shirt, a gaudy feather headdress. The sort of clothes a child would wear to play make-believe. Underneath the clothing were piles of beads, antique pearls, fake earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. A child's dream. Who did it all belong to? Surely not Mr. Tier.
I chuckled to myself, imagining the thaumaturge decked out in all this showy array. No, he didn't exactly seem the type.
I ran my fingers through the discarded riches and struck something hard. I gripped whatever it was and tugged it out from under the jewelry mess. When I saw what I held, my breath stole away.
A music box. A real, antique music box with a ballerina posed, frozen in time, atop the dainty stage. I hadn't known any of these still existed outside of museums. Nowadays everyone played infinite tunes straight from their portscreens. The thing must have been ancient. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it still worked. I scanned the object, looking for a button to turn it on. Instead, I found a key. Stars above, this thing was even older than I thought.
Praying I wouldn't break this priceless antique, I wound the key until it would turn no more. Then, breath held in anticipation, I released it and listened.
A second passed, and another. Then the ballerina slowly began to turn on her platform as the sweetest music I had ever heard drifted to my ears. I could almost see the notes twinkling through the air. Music fit for a princess or even a queen. I felt a sudden urge to dress in the finest clothes and jewelry and dance and dance and dance all day and all night until all my troubles soared away into the Lunar sky.
And so I did. I closed my eyes and twirled like the ballerina on the music box until the soles of my feet chafed from the carpet and the music wound down to silence.
A deep cough from the doorway made me yelp. Mr. Tier was leaning against the door frame, looking as though he felt just as awkward as I did in that moment.
I smoothed my skirt and avoided his eyes as my cheeks grew uncomfortably warm. "You should be resting," I mumbled.
"I feel fine." His strained voice defied his statement. Even so, I decided not to push my point any further.
"What do you want?" I asked, trying to hide the irritation I felt.
"I saw you dancing." He coughed again. "I wondered… I mean, if you don't want to, that's… That's fine." Another cough. I began to wonder if something was stuck in his throat. "I just…" He took a deep breath and said, slowly and deliberately, "Do you want to have a dance tonight?"
I jerked my head up, startled. "A dance? You mean like a ball? With you?"
He shuffled his feet on the carpet, and I could imagine his face—whatever it actually looked like—reddening underneath the glamour. "Well, perhaps not quite like a ball, since it would only be the two of us, but I suppose it might be similar?"
I squinted at him, weighing my answer. This time, I didn't regret saying, "Sure. Alright, let's do it."
The look that came over Mr. Tier's face at my reply was enigmatic. A twitch of the lips, a tightening of the jaw, a slight crinkle around the eyes. Almost like he was smiling.
"I look forward to it," he said. His usually stone-cold tone of voice held a hint of warmth, making his words just as confusing as his expression. "Meet me in the ballroom after dinner. Pots will be up later to help you with anything you need." He began walking away, but on his second step, his legs gave way and he collapsed on the ground with a groan.
"Mr. Tier!" I ran forward to help him up. As I hefted him to his feet, I grunted, "Perhaps the dance should wait until you've healed."
He nodded wordlessly.