The Shadow Prince (14 page)

“Pear Perkins, second call for Pear Perkins,” I hear Mr. Morgan yell from inside the auditorium.

“Pear likes to make an entrance,” Tobin says.

“I know, but she’s really pushing it this time,” the brunette says.

“Maybe Lexie offed her,” Iris whispers dramatically behind
her hand. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Be nice,” Tobin says.

“I’m just making sure New Girl knows what she’s getting herself into. Last year, this freshman was up for the part Lexie wanted, so she put ipecac in the girl’s apple juice. The girl puked all over the stage right in the middle of her audition.”

“That’s just a rumor. She probably had the flu or was nervous or something.”

“Well, whatever the cause, Lexie posted a video of it on the school’s Facebook page and it got, like, five thousand hits before the admins took it down.”

“Nobody ever proved it was Lexie that posted it,” Tobin says.

“Yeah, because she posted it under a dummy account. She’s not stupid. And proof doesn’t matter. Everybody knows it. I’m telling you, Daphne. You don’t want to cross her.”

“Last call for Pear Perkins,” rings out Mr. Morgan’s perturbed voice. “Somebody tell that diva she has fifteen seconds to get out here or I’m cancelling her audition.”

Bridgette squeaks from the doorway, “Where the heck is she?”

“That’s it. I’m calling it,” Mr. Morgan says, his voice filled with annoyance. “Next up. Miss Rain. Miss Rain, are you here?”

No answer comes from the auditorium.

“Miss Daphne Rain? Do we have another no-show?”

“Isn’t that you?” Tobin asks.

“What?” I’d been distracted by the nervous little melody wafting off Bridgette.

“Daphne Rain, you have sixty seconds to appear on my stage or your audition is also cancelled,” shouts Mr. Morgan.

“Oh, that is me,” I say, a little dumbfounded. My audition isn’t supposed to be for another ten minutes. I haven’t had time to
finish my relaxation exercises. My throat is still dry. I need more water. I’m not quite ready.

“Fifty seconds!”

I must look panicked, because Tobin takes my arm. “Don’t worry,” he says, and leads me down the hall several yards to another door. He swings it open. “Backstage,” he says. “Just go up those stairs and follow the curtains. Break a leg!” he says, and pushes me through the doorway—which he might have meant literally, because as the door swings shut, I am engulfed in utter darkness.

“Thirty seconds, Miss Rain!”

I stumble forward and hit the stairs. I find the handrail and pull myself up the steps. I grip my guitar tightly in one hand and stick the other out, feeling for the curtains. Something rustles past me, and I hear that low, hissing sound from before. I spin around, looking for what—or who—is with me in the darkness. I can’t see anything but blackness all around. My old fear of the dark had started during that hospital stay when I was thirteen. Every time one of the nurses would shut off the lights, it would seem like someone was standing in the shadows. Watching me. It was probably just the painkillers messing with my mind—the sensation had gone away once we went home and I could sleep in my own bed—but it had taken me months before I could sleep without the lights on. For some reason, that old fear comes rolling over me again. I take another step. Something brushes my arm, and I almost scream. Another half step and I realize I’m standing in one of the curtains.

“Fifteen seconds!”

I push at the curtain and see a sliver of light dance between its folds. I trail my hand along the fabric until I come to the opening.
I think I hear someone let out a breath behind me. I look back, sure I’m being watched, and step out into the light of the stage.

“I’m here,” I say, holding my hand up to block the sudden brightness of the spotlight that is trained on center stage.

“Nice of you to decide to join us, Miss Rain,” the teacher says curtly.

“It’s Miss Raines.”

“Noted,” he says, making a mark in his binder. “You were almost too late.”

“Sorry. I was told my audition was at three thirty.”

He purses his lips for a moment. “I expect
my
students to be prepared for anything.”

“Well, I am,” I say.

“Do you have sheet music for the pianist?”

I stifle a smile. CeCe had always thought that was the funniest word. “I thought I’d play my own accompaniment.” I place my fingers on the right chords and prepare to start playing, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice the curtains at the side of the stage rustling. I stand still for a moment, trying to see if anything is really there. Maybe I hadn’t been imagining things when I was backstage. Maybe someone had been there.

Maybe the stranger from the grove had followed me.…

My muscles tense. I wonder if I should say something, but my voice is caught in my throat.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?” Mr. Morgan asks, clearly still annoyed.

I look at him and then to the expectant faces of the students in the crowd. Some of them looked embarrassed or nervous for me, and I can tell by the tone that titters off Lexie and the cluster of friends sitting with her that they’re highly amused. I see Lexie pull
her iPhone from her pocket and stealthily train it on me.

Do they think I’m going to throw up on the stage like that freshman girl? Or do I look as mentally disturbed as I feel at the moment?

“If you don’t want to be in my music program, Miss Rain, then I suggest you get off my stage,” Mr. Morgan says.

For half a second, I find myself wondering if I do want to be in
his
music program.

If I want to be
here
at all. I could just walk right off this stage, bike back to Joe’s mansion, and demand that he fly me back to Ellis.

But Joe still has that court order. He’d probably never send me back now that I am here. Or he’d get lawyers involved and my mom would end up going bankrupt trying to fight him. If I walk away now, then the sacrifice of leaving my mom so I can follow my dreams would end up being for nothing.

“No. I came here to sing.” I force all the fear and nerves out of my body with a deep breath and strum out the beginning of the song. Sometimes, when I play—when I’m really into it—I can feel the notes dancing around me. That’s the way I play today. Like my entire world is wrapped up in this song—because this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The moment I can actively start making my dreams come true.

When my voice joins in with the guitar, I can feel the energy in the crowd shift. Their surprise vibrates about the room. Along with it are notes of happiness and relief, but I can also pick out the darker tones of jealousy from a certain pocket of girls in the crowd. I take all of it in. Absorbing the vibrations in the room and channeling them into my voice and into my hands. Letting it all come out in my music.

In Ellis, my music obsession made me different.

Here, I can use it to make me stand out.

When I round into my third song, Tobin catches my eye. He gives me a big grin and thumbs-up. The joyful melody that wafts off him has so much energy, it carries me through the rest of the song all on its own.

It isn’t until the last line that I notice that someone else is watching from the shadows in the back of the auditorium. Or at least I think I see the flash of fiery eyes in the darkness. I almost falter on the last note, but I pull it off with gusto. I hold my guitar out and take a quick bow when I’m done.

“Well, then,” Mr. Morgan says, actually sounding happy this time. “That’ll do, for sure.”

Tobin and Iris stand up and start clapping. A few others join in. I don’t pay them much attention as I jump down from the stage and jog quickly to the back of the auditorium. But I’m standing alone in the shadows—maybe I hadn’t seen anything—until someone grabs me by both hands.

“That was utterly fantastic,” Tobin says, shaking my hands in excitement. “I’ve never heard anyone with a range like yours.” I expect his touch to hurt the welts on my arm, but as he lets go of my wrist, I notice the red marks are gone.

“No wonder you got a scholarship,” Iris says, coming up to us.

“About that …,” I start to say.

Mr. Morgan raises his voice above the chatter that fills the room. “Lexie Simmons. You’re up.”

“I’d hate to be her right now,” Iris whispers. “Wouldn’t want to follow you. No way.”

Lexie approaches the stage. Her inner music pounds out a symphony of dark notes. I don’t need to see the not-so-friendly
look she throws me as she climbs the stage steps to know that I have definitely crossed onto her bad side.

Tobin catches the exchange. “Looks like you might be needing a little protection from the mob,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially. “Perhaps I can offer my services.” He pretends to flex his muscles like a strong man in a carnival sideshow. I’ve got at least four inches on him heightwise, but that doesn’t seem to deter him from thinking he can be my personal goon squad.

“What’s it going to cost me?” I ask.

“Let me give you the welcome-wagon tour of the town. I’m the mayor’s kid, after all. I know all the good places to check out.”

I glance into the empty shadows behind us.

“Yeah,” I say, and smile. There’s one place in particular I want to check out again—and I don’t want to go there alone.

chapter fifteen

I climb the trellis that leads to the window of my new bedchamber and slip inside. I scan the room. Everything is the same as I had left it. I can hear the soft murmur of voices down the hall, and I am sure my absence has gone undetected. Good thing. I don’t want Dax to know how colossally I’ve screwed up.
What had I been thinking
?

I hadn’t been thinking, that’s what. Perhaps this girl is a siren. The old stories say they can befuddle men with their music. Such an idea had always been so obtuse to me, but now I understand. My encounter with Daphne had left me more confused than ever.

But sirens were evil creatures of the Oceanrealm, thought to be extinct. Why would the Oracle want me to bring such a dangerous thing back to my world?

No, she isn’t a siren.

But, then, what is she?

She certainly isn’t a mere Boon. Or at least not like any Boon in the Court’s harem.
She doesn’t act like one
, I think, rubbing my jaw where she had hit me. And she certainly didn’t look like the Boons I’d seen in the Underrealm. Most of the girls who had been brought back by former Champions were waifish and gaunt
to begin with, and wasted away quickly. I’d never really seen the appeal of having a Boon before. But this girl is different. My hands tingle with that strange heat, just thinking of her now.

The Oracle had indicated that Daphne is indeed different. Special, somehow. And Dax had suggested that he knew something about it. I shouldn’t have acted without all the information—I should have waited here, as Simon had ordered me to. A soldier should always follow commands.

The thought of Simon finding out what I did fills me with dread. He seems to be in communication with the Underrealm somehow, and I can’t bear the thought of his reporting my blunder back to the Court. What would they say about me then?

I settle on the bed and open the cloth bag the girl left in the grove. She may not be a siren and she may not be an ordinary Boon, but she is definitely a more formidable opponent than I gave her credit for. I am a warrior, and I decide to attack the problem of Daphne the way I have been trained to do with any other adversary. Which means I need to do some reconnaissance. I dump the contents on the bed. There are mostly papers. I play with a tube of sticky red gel that smells vaguely of pomegranates, and almost jump when a rectangular contraption buzzes in the pile. I pick it up and inspect its smooth surfaces. It buzzes again and lights up. A written message appears on the glass front. It must be some sort of communication device. The message reads:

CeCe: Daph, really need to talk. Call me tonight. May not be at this number after tomorrow.

A knock sounds on my door, making me jump. My fingers slip. I’m not sure what I’ve done but the message disappears.

“Haden, you up?” Dax calls through the door.

“Uh, yes. Just one moment.” I panic at the sight of Daphne’s
things strewn across the bed. I grab a blanket and throw it over the mess to hide the evidence of my excursion into the world. I dash over to the door and open it halfway, placing my body between the door and the view of the rumpled-looking bed. I stretch and act as though I’ve just woken up.

Dax looks somewhat surprised to see me.

“Enjoying a nap, I see,” Simon says in his overly chipper way. “Very good. Very good. Many Champions ignore the need for proper rest while in the mortal world. This place can be a strain on the body. You were so quiet in here, I was almost afraid you’d run off on some half-baked idea of going to look for this Daphne girl on your own.”

I feel heat flushing into my hands and face. “Just being patient. Like I was told.” I try to give Dax my most earnest look.

“Very well,” Simon says with a huge smile. “All the arrangements for your stay have been made. I’ll leave you boys to it.” He drops the smile, and a sudden dark look creeps over his usually bright face. “I trust I won’t need to clean up any messes while you boys are here. Not like last time?” He turns that dark look on Dax.