"Should I laugh now?" Ingrid said.
"I'm not joking. This will be big, Ingrid."
She narrowed her eyes. "Let me get this straight. You want me to do what exactly?"
"Reapply and get into the dance academy," he said with all the confidence in the world. "So you'll be in this year's dance season and will perform that night. And get us access to the event."
"Zephyr, there are so many points to poke in your plan, but I'll humor you and start with a simple one. You clearly have no idea how the academy works. Just 'reapply to the academy' he says. You're priceless, honestly. Did you not hear anything I just told you?"
"But you said it yourself. You were a stupid country girl when you first came. With no financial backing. You won't be this time."
She chose to let the insult go. "Money doesn't even matter. At least not as much as skill..."
"Give me a break. You think you wouldn't have gotten in if you were merchant's daughter?"
"....not to even start to talk of the competitions, the rounds of elimination…"
He placed his hands on her shoulders as if to shake her.
"Ingrid, I have never seen you dance. But if you are anything even close to what I imagine you are, I'm going to be watching you perform on that stage come December. Who knows, you might even be the top dancer or something."
"Principal dancer," she corrected.
"I really don't give a shit."
"I can't, Zephyr," she told him, pulling on her shawl.
It was all too much and too big.
He was even giving her a headache and she wanted to enjoy her time at the show.
She shook her head.
He dropped his arms back to his side. "Just think about it." He checked his watch. "As you watch the show. Come on, let's go."
The voices of the show guests were already floating up from the entrance hall below.
As they descended the stairs, Ingrid caught sight of lavishly dressed men and women coming at a steady stream through the gallery doors. The bold colors of the various dresses and sparkles of accessories were a sight indeed.
Waiters were going back and forth through the small crowd in the hall, holding their trays of champagne in glasses high above the heads as if to avoid accidents.
"God, I'm itching to steal something," Zephyr said under his breath when they joined the crowd.
"Well don't. At least not until after the show is finished."
Zephyr took two glasses that one of the waiters offered and handed one to her. Together, they followed an usher down a short flight of stairs into the seating hall of the theatre, where everyone else was heading.
--------------------------
The theatre rumbled with the chatter from guests and the air was full of expensive perfume and scented water.
It was colder than she had expected. God forbid rich people sweat.
There was a harpist playing on the stage, strumming quietly as if playing more for herself than the crowd. The stage light lit her olive skin and her pale green dress that spread out in yards of material over the floor of the stage made her look like a goddess.
Zephyr handed their tickets to an usher standing in one aisle and he led them down the many rows of velvet-covered high-backed seats.
She noticed that her shoes were noiseless on the soft carpet.
Ingrid spread her dress about her then took her seat. Zephyr waited, then sat after her.
"I'll tell Marya all about your Isi-Town manners," she teased after they had settled in.
He grunted. "Don't tell that girl anything. She never lets anything go."
Beside them, a woman in a sheer indigo gown laughed at something her partner had said. The sparkle of her diamond earrings matched the whiteness of her teeth.
Another woman leaned across from in front of them as if to catch the joke. There was a pearl comb sitting in her red hair. Her dress looked like it was made from pink roses stitched together; the single sleeve of the dress cut across her pale shoulders.
Her partner sitting beside her had a single stroke of silver in his otherwise jet-black hair.
Marya would have wanted so badly to be here and evaluate the fashion of the high society for herself.
There were at least twenty hats in the room, Ingrid noted. It was something Marya would want to know.
A few minutes later, the harpist got up from her stool. When she gave a curtsy, the room burst into applause, even though it hadn't seemed like most of the crowd was paying much attention.
Her green dress trailed behind her as she walked off the stage.
"Just think about it," Zephyr reminded her as the light dimmed and the curtain dropped.