The hot, arid air in Augustine’s room smells so strongly of orange blossoms that bile rises to the back of my throat. Walter nudges me from behind, forcing me further into the suffocating room until my arm brushes against a wall. I blink, dabbing moisture from the corners of my eyes.

Don’t let them see you cry.

Nik steps inside, blocking my exit, followed by Irena. I don’t understand why she has to be in here. With so many people crowding into the already tight space, I can scarcely breathe. There’s nowhere to move when Walter presses against my side, and my pulse flutters.

A bony woman sits in the faded armchair angled toward the window, her snowy white hair bright against the dark walls behind her. She clutches a curved wooden cane in her left hand and looks me over from beneath heavy eyelids. She purses her lips, the lines around her mouth deepening, and snaps her gaze to Walter.

“Let’s get right to it, then,” she says in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “I run a tight ship. This country has seen better days and folks have to be very careful where they spend their hard-earned money. The silver screen is making things harder for us by the day.”

Walter nods.

“So, with the competition, it’s reasonable to assume a scandal will only hurt my show.” Her beady eyes narrow. “Scandals like kidnapping a teenage girl and keeping her like some sort of zoo attraction.”

Walter blanches. “Madam Aug—”

“And you,” she says, turning to me. “I’m not sure what kind of game this is to Walter, but going to the police isn’t an option. People talk. The city isn’t half as big as the mouths on some.”

Moisture coats my palms. I’m not sure why I’m surprised, but I am. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m never anything else, dear.” She inhales. “You’re a tiny little thing. How tall are you?”

I glance at Nik, desperate for a friendly face, an ally, then back at Augustine. “150 centimeters, but I’m not sure what that has to do with—”

“Translate,” she snips at Nik.

“About four-foot-eleven, Madam,” he answers.

She scowls. “Hmm.”

“Madam Augustine, please listen,” I beg. “I never wanted to be here. He chloroformed me, locked me in a trunk, dragged me onto a ship, and convinced everyone I was insane while keeping me tied to a bed just because he thinks I can sing. All I want to do is go home.”

Augustine pinches the bridge of her nose. “Well, Walter. What do you have to say for yourself?”

He wheezes beside me. “With a Symric like her, we can land any gig you want. I recognized her magic the moment she opened her mouth and had to bring her.”

“The next sentence you utter needs to be you asked her politely.” Madam Augustine stands, crumbs falling from her ankle length pinstripe skirt. “Because I’m finding it very difficult to find a reason she would lie. I’m not blind—look at her. She’s a mess.”

My breath comes faster, and my entire body tingles in anticipation. There’s no reason to lie if I wanted this. None. I don’t want it, and she sees that. The sailor followed his captain’s order to tackle me on the ship, but Augustine is a self-made woman. The owner of an entire... something. Actors? Musicians? I jolt with sudden realization. Madam Augustine. Madam’s run brothels. My blood turns icy in my veins.

And I thought it couldn’t get worse.

“I just thought... I...Well, I...” Walter stutters.

“You stole a girl from her home, gifted or not. I’m incredibly troubled you don’t see a problem with this,” Augustine chides.

The room tilts, and I rest my head against the wall. The stale air burns my nostrils and the wool dress bites at my skin. Sweat beads along my lip. I wipe it away and try to focus on the scene in front of me. The hum of Augustine’s voice reminds me of a wasp, incessant and angry, but I can’t make out the words. A hand touches my shoulder, and I twitch away from it.

“Are you okay?” Nik whispers.

I look up into his face. The edges blur. I try to speak but my balance shifts, and I fall back against his chest. The citrus scent of the room churns my stomach. I’m going to vomit. Or collapse. Something. My brain screams not to but my body isn’t listening. It’s shutting down, pushing away the new reality of things.

Augustine steps closer to Walter and points a crooked finger in his face. Neither of them bother to look in my direction. They don’t notice that I’m leaning into a complete stranger to stay on my feet. A stranger who, from across the room, noticed my distress when no one else did. He’s the first person I’ve met that didn’t focus on the wrong end of the problem. Yes, bad Walter. Shame on him, lock him away for life, but get me out of here first.

“I don’t.” My voice comes out as a puff of air. “Feel,” I try again. My tongue refuses to work. Am I dying? Will I wake up if the darkness wins? It doesn’t feel like I will.

A clicking echoes in my ears. My teeth, I realize, as the shaking spreads down the rest of my body. My feet are numb. And my hands. My lips. My stomach lurches and I gasp. My knees give out. A pair of hands grip my arms as I fall.

A throbbing pain behind my temples pulls me from sleep. I grimace, my back arching, but a hand on my forehead holds me down. My eyes snap open, and Nik hovers over me. “Shh,” he says. “You’re safe.”

My racing heart says otherwise, but I attempt to relax against the lumpy mattress. I’m lying in a cannonball bed, covered to my chest with a blue quilt. A cane chair is beside the bed and a green slag glass lamp with black trim sits on a small table, taking up most of the tiny room. A broom leans against yellow and pink floral wallpaper. It must be a room at the boarding house but whose?

Nik dabs a wet cloth against my cheek. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Wh—” My voice sticks in my throat. I cough and try again. “What happened?”

He shifts to sit in the chair instead of on the edge of the bed. “You fainted.”

“Well, yes, but...” I try to sit but another wave of dizziness throws me back to the bed. “Is there something wrong with me? How long was I unconscious?”

“Almost three days.” He lifts his eyebrows, concern etching his otherwise blank expression. “We called a physician and he promised you only needed some rest. You were severely dehydrated. Honestly, I’m not sure how you lasted as long as you did without collapsing. When did you eat last?”

I rub my temples. Three days? I should be on my way home by now. “I haven’t felt much like eating.”

He sighs. “I know it’s hard to eat without an appetite but you can’t let yourself starve.”

He’s right. I know he is but my time on the ship wasn’t spent in what I consider the right state-of-mind. I mean, I tried jumping overboard. I tried jumping overboard. I groan. That has to be my worst decision to date. I can’t see my mother or Christian again if I drown. I need to start thinking things through and form a plan.

“I brought you some breakfast.” Nik grabs a bowl with tiny gold and pink flowers along the edge from beside the lamp. “If you keep this down, I’ll bring you something better later.”

I inch into a sitting position using the wall, and he sets the food on my lap. It’s a small serving of clear broth. Why bother? But my stomach growls. “Thanks.”

He leans back in the chair and extends his long legs. The knees of his brown pants are a shade lighter than the rest. “You don’t want to force too much down at once. Not after you haven’t eaten in so long,” he says, crossing his arms. “Trust me.”

Strangely, I do. We never had much at home, but I never went hungry. The way Nik’s watching me makes me think maybe he has. Still, there are things more important than my diet. “Where’s Walter?”

“Gone. Irena, too. Augustine fired them both.” He sits forward again. My eyes lock onto his and for a brief second, I see something there. A small glimmer of something I can’t decipher but then it’s gone, hidden beneath a still face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you the justice you deserve. I wanted to take you to the coppers, and I apologize for letting you think I was. It’s just...”

“Complicated?” I ask, remembering his words. He stiffens. “You were the first person to believe me, so I’ll forgive you this time.”

His lips quirk wistfully. “This time? Do you plan on desperately needing the police a second time?”

“Yes.” I grip the bowl, remembering the revelation I had right before losing consciousness. “If your boss tries to force me into prostitution, I’ll most definitely need them.”

His eyes widen. “Prostitution? Where on earth did you get an idea like that?”

I hesitate. Could I be mistaking the term? “Madam Augustine…?”

Nik’s head falls back with a laugh so hard, his chest heaves. “No.” He pauses to collect himself. “She runs the troupe. Not a… house of ill repute.”

I press a hand over my breastbone and exhale. I should be embarrassed but really, I’m just relieved. “Thank goodness.”

“I’ll say.” His eyes still shine with amusement.

“So what is the troupe then?” I poke at the broth with the heavy silver spoon. “Some sort of opera?”

He laughs again, this time quietly, and holds his hands out to each side. “Welcome to Vaudeville.”

“Vaudeville?” I scowl. “What’s that?”

He tilts his head. “Seriously?”

Heat creeps into my face. Growing up without extra money, I never went to a show. I remember the circus passing through a few times but I was generally too busy working to pay much attention.

“It’s a variety show. Singers, dancers, comedians, jugglers, magicians. That kind of thing.” He shrugs. “We’re being phased out in favor of the pictures, but we’re not gone yet.”

“Oh.” That seems less scary than the opera for some reason. I would probably want to see their show under different circumstances. I sip at the lukewarm, flavorless broth. “What do you do?”

“I’m multi-talented,” he says with a wink. “Mainly I’m the piano man, but occasionally I fill in if a dancer or actor is sick. I was actually hired to do hard labor, moving props and things. When they found out I could read music and knew how to play, I got promoted.” He briefly wiggles his fingers in the air between us like they’re touching keys, then folds his hands on his lap and clearly his throat. “So, is it true?”

“Is what true?”

Nik looks down at his lap and chews his lip before clarifying. “You’re a… that you can sing.”

I press further into the wall and watch his face. “I enjoy singing, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m a great talent. It’s just something I do for myself when I’m alone.”

Nik checks the door over his shoulder. “Walter wouldn’t have gone through all this to get you here if you weren’t a— good. If you weren’t good.”

“Who knows what he would’ve done?” I swallow another spoonful and it hits my stomach like a brick. “Is he really gone?”

Nik inclines his head. “They left within the hour and aren’t allowed back.”

I exhale slowly. One nightmare down, one to go. I barely remember what normal feels like but it feels within reach. I can stop worrying if Walter will hurt me or what he has planned next.

“Jackie says you’re Dutch.”

I hold my hand to my mouth as saliva builds along with my nausea. “Yes. Where are you from? Not here?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere. My family never stayed in one place long.” He inhales, letting it out slowly through his nose. “Listen—”

A sharp knock stops him from saying more. Augustine shuffles into the room, her cane clacks against the loose hardwood floor.

“Good, you’re awake,” she chirps.

Nik jumps to his feet and holds the chair out for her to sit down. “For a few minutes now.”

“Perfect timing.” She falls into the seat with a grunt. “Wait outside.”

Nik gives me a final look before stepping into the hall and closing me in with Augustine. All semblance of inner peace goes with him.

“Let’s start again.” Her smile is stiff. “I’m Madam Augustine.”

“Lina Holt,” I mutter.

“It looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle, Lina Holt. We both are.”

The orange scent from her room clings to her. It’s not as overpowering as the source but a cold sweat breaks out on my skin at the memory. I focus on my bowl. Looking at her makes me more nervous. She sees too much, and she already has the upper hand. I need her help, that much is obvious, but I don’t want her to see how desperate I am for it. I’ll lose all power to negotiate if she knows.

“Irena and her horrible son are gone,” she continues. “You’re welcome to recover here.”

Recover. That gives me a day, maybe two, and then what am I supposed to do? She already made it clear she doesn’t want me to go to the police. “I have nowhere else to go,” I admit. If I run off on my own, without money, I could end up in worse trouble. Jackie and Nik both said she might help me so it’s worth a try. “But, I wanted to talk to you about getting home.”

“You look like a sweet girl,” she says.

That’s never a good start.

“So small.”

Insults. The best way to win friends.

“But, the world has gone to pot. I don’t have funds to spare to get you passage.”

It was worth a try, but the disappointment still stings. “I understand.”

She holds her hand up to stop me. “Is it true? Can you carry a tune? And I mean really carry it, not flounder about like a fish out of water.”

I gape at her. Never have I met anyone so blunt. “I’ve been told I can.” It’s all I can think to say.

“Many terrible singers have been told they can sing.” She leans on her cane. “Would you mind letting me hear a small sample?”

I glare at the door behind her, wishing Nik would come back and save me. “Right now?”

“It’s important I hear for myself before we continue this conversation.”

“Why?” She already said she couldn’t help me. What else was there to say? “I’m not interested in staying on.”

She exhales sharply. “Humor an old woman, won’t you?”

Willingly sing in front of someone? A stranger? My body shudders. Even if I want to, I’m not sure I’m feeling up to it. My throat is dry and scratchy, and I’m still weak but maybe if I sound horrible, we can put all this nonsense behind us. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise it’ll be any good.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Go ahead. Something snappy.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something I might regret later. Augustine may be pushy but I’m not in a position to make enemies, so I start singing the same song Walter heard in the barn. At first, my voice is tight and my diaphragm aches when I tighten it. I close my eyes against the discomfort, concentrating on the lyrics, and let my body take over.

I picture Christian pulling me away from the beam. Our kiss against his car. The way his eyes shone when I agreed to go to the garden party. His playful grin when he hinted we’d be engaged soon. It’s easy to pretend I’m singing for him instead of a crabby old woman. If I ever see him again, I won’t be afraid to let him hear me.

“Enough.”

Suddenly I’m back in the small room wearing Jackie’s itchy dress. “Sorry. I was a bit off.”

“A bit off?” She laughs, her face morphing into something much friendlier. “If that’s you a bit off then I dare say you’ll be a star.”

I blush. My life goals don’t include a stage. “Thank you,” I mumble. “But I—”

“Here’s the thing. This whole situation is difficult. On top of your little scandalous affair, firing Irena left me without a singer for the show next week.”

I try not to assume what she’s hinting at because it can’t possibly be what it sounds like. “I’m sorry. I hope you’re able to replace her, but I didn’t have any part of Walter’s scheme.”

“You have no money for a ticket home, and I have none to spare. Hopefully we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

“I don’t think—”

“Stay on with Nova Troupe while we’re in New York. I won’t have to scramble to replace Irena, giving me time to find someone suitable. You’ll be kept safe while you’re here and can earn money to pay your way home.”

I pause. The thought of earning money never crossed my mind, let alone a way to make it. That takes time and I’ve been gone too long already. Even if he hates me now, Christian will send enough to get me home if I can get him a message. That could still take days though. If I say no to Augustine, what will my next option be? To live on the streets? This could very well be the best offer I get. At least it will keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach.

“I’d like to make a phone call,” I say cautiously. “So my family knows I’m safe.”

“There’s no phone here, but the theater has one. You can ask the manager when we go for rehearsals,” she says.

I press my lips together at the mention of practice. I haven’t agreed yet. I should. Why aren’t I jumping at the chance? It’s not forever. I can force myself to sing in front of an audience if it means getting back to the people I love.

“I’d like to send a letter, then.” It won’t be an instant connection, but I can’t wait another day to send word to them. As long as something’s on the way, I’ll feel better.

Augustine fiddles with the curved head of her cane. “I’ll have stationary brought to your room after lunch.”

I bite the inside of my lip and clutch the thin quilt to keep myself from clawing my skin again. “Okay then.”

“Splendid.” She beams. “I’ll start planning your act. Naturally, our patron will want some input on the matter.” She surveys my head. “How do you feel about cutting your hair?”

My mother likes my hair long. I like it long. It doesn’t matter what’s in fashion—short hair makes me look ten years old. “No.”

She grunts and pats the blankets over my legs as if I were a petulant child. “Rest up.”

When she bustles out of the room, she leaves the door wide open. Nik leans against the opposite wall. Augustine smacks his chest with the back of her hand, laughing. “A Symric!” she cackles. My breath catches at the joke about Walter’s fairy nonsense. “I have to tell John.” Her laugh continues until a door opens at the end of the hall.

At the sound of it slamming shut, Nik lifts his chin to meets my gaze. His eyes are dull and haunted.

“Welcome to Vaudeville?” I ask with a quiver in my voice.

He pales.

“I kept the broth down,” I say.

“Good.” He steps forward and grabs my door handle. “That’s… good.”

A sense of dread tugs at my gut. I know Christian will help as soon as I talk to him. It won’t be long until I’m able to bury my face in his chest and feel the safety of his arms around me. I have to believe he’ll accept my apology. I have to. But, for now, I won’t cry. I’ll stay strong for him, and my mother. There will be plenty of time to breakdown when I’m home.

“Does that mean I can try something for dinner?” I ask.

Nik looks away, nods, and shuts the door without another word.