Catherine's internal struggle was abruptly interrupted as the Master of Ceremony's voice boomed through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, in her debut performance, Princess Eleanor Windsor!"
The crowd's excited murmur faded into hushed anticipation. Catherine's eyes snapped to the stage, curiosity piqued despite her tumultuous thoughts.
Eleanor glided onto the stage, her red hair gleaming under the spotlights. She wore a simple, elegant gown that seemed to shimmer with every movement. As she reached center stage, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
The sound that filled the air was unlike anything Catherine had ever heard. Eleanor's voice soared, pure and crystalline, weaving a tapestry of sound that seemed to defy the laws of physics.
Catherine found herself transfixed as Eleanor's voice filled the grand ballroom.
The princess's operatic tones washed over the audience, a cascade of pure emotion that seemed to transcend language itself.
"Ah-ah-ah-ahhh," Eleanor's voice soared, climbing to impossible heights before plummeting into rich, velvety lows.
"Oh-oh-oh-ohhh," she continued, her wordless song telling a story of longing and hope.
Catherine's eyes widened, her earlier cynicism momentarily forgotten. She'd expected another vapid pop performance, but this... this was something else entirely.
Eleanor's hands moved gracefully, emphasizing the peaks and valleys of her melody.
"Mm-mm-mm-mmmm," she hummed, her eyes closed in concentration as she poured her heart into every note.
The audience sat spellbound, many with their mouths agape.
Even Gerald and the music critics seemed touched by the raw talent on display.
"La-la-la-lahhh," Eleanor's voice danced, weaving intricate patterns through the air. Her face was a canvas of emotion, every nuance of her wordless song reflected in her expression.
Catherine found herself leaning forward, drawn in despite her best efforts to remain aloof.
There was something undeniably genuine about Eleanor's performance, a stark contrast to the manufactured acts she was used to seeing.
For a moment, Catherine felt a twinge of something unfamiliar.
Was it... envy? Not of Eleanor's talent, precisely, but of the princess's ability to express herself so purely, so honestly.
There were no words, just vocalizations that ranged from haunting whispers to powerful crescendos.
Catherine felt her jaw drop. The princess's voice danced through octaves with effortless grace, each note perfectly pitched and resonant.
The melody was both ancient and new, evoking images of misty mountains and starlit skies.
As Eleanor's voice climbed higher, Catherine found herself holding her breath.
The princess hit a note so high and clear it seemed to shatter the very air around them, then plunged into a rich, velvety low tone that sent shivers down Catherine's spine.
The audience was transfixed, many with tears in their eyes. Catherine felt her own eyes grow damp, overwhelmed by the raw emotion and sheer beauty of Eleanor's performance.
In his green room, Brandon lounged on a plush sofa, his eyes half-closed as he absently watched the large flatscreen TV.
But as Eleanor's voice filled the room, his eyes snapped open.
He sat up slowly, his gaze locked on the screen.
As Eleanor's performance built to its climax, Brandon found himself on his feet, drawn closer to the TV as if magnetized.
"Holy shit," he whispered, his eyes wide with shock and admiration.
"Voh-voh-voh-vohhh," Eleanor's voice swelled, filling every corner of the green room. The crescendo built, layer upon layer of sound creating a tapestry of pure feeling.
Brandon stared at the screen, his mind racing as Eleanor's voice soared through the speakers.
He'd never heard anything quite like it before— in this word at least.
Brandon leaned forward, his expression a mix of awe and excitement.
"Damn," he muttered, running a hand through his silver-grey hair.
"This girl's got pipes like you wouldn't believe. She's giving Celine Dion and Christina Aguilera vibes."
As Eleanor hit another impossibly high note, Brandon found himself grinning.
It was like stumbling across a diamond in the rough - raw, untapped potential just waiting to be polished.
He paced the green room, unable to contain his energy.
"That range, that control... it's unreal. And she's barely tapped into her potential."
Brandon's mind raced with possibilities.
"No instrumentals, no lyrics... it's impressive, but it's niche. But if I could write for her..."
He snapped his fingers, a grin spreading across his face.
"With the right songs, she'd be unstoppable. We're talking global superstar material here."
Suddenly, Brandon's expression faltered.
"Wait a minute," he said, his brow furrowing.
"She's the CEO of Windsor Records, isn't she? Damn, that complicates things."
He ran a hand through his hair again, this time in frustration.
"How the hell am I supposed to sign her when she's running her own label? It's not like I can just swoop in and..."
Brandon snapped out of his reverie as the MC's voice boomed through the speakers once again. He rushed back to the side of the stage, eager to hear the judges' reactions to Eleanor's performance.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary display of vocal talent!" the MC exclaimed, striding onto the stage.
"Now, let's hear from our esteemed panel of judges. Headmaster Alaric, your thoughts?"
Alaric leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.
"My dear, your voice is truly a gift. It painted vivid pictures, spoke of stories that can't be told by words, the very essence of raw emotion. Truly remarkable."
Before Alaric could continue, Gerald Sinclair cut in, his voice sharp with disdain.
"Remarkable? Hardly. This was utterly unprofessional. No performance, no instrumentals, not even any words! This isn't a talent show for parlor tricks. We're here to judge real music, not glorified vocal exercises."
Brandon clenched his fists, fighting the urge to march onto the stage and confront Gerald himself. He watched as Eleanor's face fell, her earlier confidence wavering under the harsh critique.
Director Annabelle cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention.
"If I may," she began, her tone measured. "Eleanor, your voice is undeniably beautiful, as Headmaster Alaric pointed out. The control and range you displayed were impressive."
She paused, glancing at Gerald.
"However, I can't entirely disagree with Mr. Sinclair's critique, crudely put as it was."
Annabelle's gaze softened as she addressed Eleanor directly.
"You have immense potential, my dear. With the right guidance and development, you could become a formidable artist. Don't be discouraged. Instead, take this as an opportunity to grow and expand your repertoire."
Annabelle leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Eleanor.
"My dear, have you considered collaborating with other artists? Someone who could write songs that showcase your unique talents?"