There was no green glow in the box this time, just a lightless space I was glad to get out of, although my stomach fizzed as if I’d been on a sideshow alley ride. This time, the door opened into a backstage area. A pair of work lights flooded the space, and the curtain was down, the purple cloth brushing the edge of the stage. People in black scurried back and forth, talking in hushed voices and quietly removing equipment and props from the stage. Cables gathered in piles. Black cases on wheels stood open under horizontal bars rigged with stage lights.


I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts, rubbing my wrist with one hand. The ribbon itched my skin. There had been big trees and a proper ballroom, but this was an exhibition of wild magic and illusions. I wasn’t sure what was real. How had I ended up backstage? Perhaps Zenna had dragged me up here, and in the rapture of the incredible performance – I couldn’t wait to tell Dad, he loved a good show – I’d not been paying attention.


I turned to go, tripping on a thick roll of cabling.


Someone caught my elbow in a firm grip, steadying me. ‘Are you okay?’


It took me a minute to recognise the woman who’d greeted me at the start of the night, dressed in black pants and a blouse now instead of a gown, her curly hair escaping from its pins. ‘Um, yeah. Sorry.’


‘Nothing to apologise for.’ She escorted me to the steps leading back to the dance floor and tables. Her voice had a lilting accent. Before I could thank her and turn away, she met my gaze, her deep brown eyes and intense behind her black-framed glasses. ‘Do you remember?’ she asked.


Remember what? I shook my head to clear my fuzzy thoughts, but it was like trying to recall a dream that had already faded, slipping through my grasping fingers like curls of dissipating smoke.


‘Why did you come here tonight, Gabby?’


I didn’t know how this woman knew my name. Foreboding snaked where the memory threads had vanished, and I pulled my arm from her grip, wishing I’d never come to the crappy ball. ‘I wasn’t supposed to. I came with a friend.’ A mistake, my mind said. I shouldn’t have come. But I couldn’t abandon my friends either.


As if she’d heard my thoughts, she murmured, ‘It wasn’t a mistake.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Melarie.’


I eyed Melarie, but I set my hand in hers.


The handshake lingered a little too long, but as I pulled back, the evening snapped into place in my mind.


I’d travelled to another world. Visited a ballroom in a galaxy where the trees made music that tingled through the floor. Spoken to a person from a distant star. Witnessed magic.


I never wanted to let go, but the woman released my hand, and the clarity faded, fizzing like a dream again.


‘Magic is real, Gabby, and I’m so sorry, but it will be a while before you find it.’ She smiled ruefully, but there was comfort in her expression too. ‘Trust your intuition.’

Intuition. Ha. If only she knew how silent my intuition was when I needed it. Or how unhelpful. My intuition didn’t seem to have any problem with this scenario, even though mentally I couldn’t make any sense of it. I thanked her anyway and staggered down the stairs, my knees wobbling with each step.


I paused to catch my footing and glanced back. The woman was gone, but movement on the platform above the side curtains caught my eye.


It was dark and a long way across the stage. My head felt cloudy, my sleeves dug into my arms, and I had to have been wrong, but for a moment, I could have sworn I’d seen Dad up there, watching from the gallery. Gripping the handrail, I stopped, staring at the space, but there was no one. I blinked, then took a deep breath. I must have imagined it.


Feeling steadier, I continued down the steps and returned to the ball, barefoot on the orange carpet. Somewhere, I’d lost my shoes.