Every morning at Voice started early. There were no loud bells like in Lorien. Assistants knocked on doors instead. Ziva's knock was always the loudest.
Mornings were for vocal warm-ups. After that came classes. Elara was often asked to sing. Each time she did, people paid attention. In the hallways, she heard quiet whispers.
"That's her." "The girl from Starhunt." "She sang her own song."
At Voice, people were friendly. No one looked at her with open jealousy. This was very different from Lorien.
Lunch was taken at the main restaurant. The food was very good and Elara always suppress the urge to get another plate. She usually eat quietly while others talked around her. No one forced her into conversation, but she was never ignored.
Afternoons were for practice. Rehearsal rooms, recording booths, and stage training. Evenings were lighter. Sometimes feedback sessions, sometimes free practice. Ziva was always nearby, commenting on everything with great confidence.
By the end of the week, Elara had known much about Voice already. The people were kind. The days were tiring, but they did not crush her after all.
One afternoon, Ziva received a very short message from one of the senior staffs.
Miss Veyne, your presence is requested on the upper floors.
Ziva had pursed her lips after reading it. The Upper floors were not places one can just wander around. She turned to look at Elara, who had just finished rehearsal and informed her about the message.
Elara only paused briefly and then shrugged.
"Well," Ziva said, adjusting the glasses on her nose with importance, "when the upper floors call, we do not pretend we did not hear."
That day, Elara wore a gown. It was not flashy, but it flowed gently around her legs. Her hair was neatly and simply done. Overall, she looked casual and calm.
Ziva, on the other hand, looked like Ziva. Her gown was dramatic and a little too structured. Her glasses sat firmly on her nose, and she walked as if she owned every corridor they passed through.
They passed through areas Elara had never seen before and took the elevator to the upper floors. When they reached the front of a tall door. Ziva finally stopped.
"This is as far as I go," she said, expression overly serious as always. Elara nodded and knocked once on the door. A low feminine voice sounded.
Come in.
Elara opened the door and walked in. It then closed behind her with a soft sound. The woman sitting by the desk did not look up at first. Her fingers only moved across the screen in front of her with a calm expression, as if Elara's presence had already been accounted for.
Elara stood patiently, hands folded loosely in front of her. Her posture was straight and her face, blank. Though Inside, her heart thumped quietly, several thoughts running through her head.
Finally, the woman spoke up.
"Miss Veyne."
Elara lifted her chin slightly, listening.
"You have been invited to Mrs Vale's private salon dinner," the woman said.
For a brief moment, Elara thought she had misheard. Mrs Vale. Her sponsor. She kept her expression calm, but her thoughts moved quickly. Mrs Vale doesn't seem like someone who would just invite anybody to a private party. Though she hadn't met with her before.
Why me, she wondered. Her mind went back to the meeting room scene on her second day of arrival. To the cold grey eyes that had measured her without warmth. To the hurtful but casual words he'd said that day. She wondered if this invitation was approval, or simply another test.
"You will attend as a guest, but you will also sing." the woman continued, her tone unchanged.
That part, at least, made sense. Singing was what Elara was for. When words failed her, her voice did not. Still, something twisted in her chest. Being invited was one thing. Being observed was another.
"Yes," Elara said softly. "I understand."
The woman finally turned her chair slightly and looked at her. Her gaze was sharp but not unkind. "This is not a performance, you are just there to entertain."
Elara nodded again. The woman reached into a drawer and placed a thin invitation card on the desk. Elara stepped forward and took it carefully. Mrs Vale's name was printed on it. For a moment, Elara's fingers tightened around the edges. She remembered the city she had failed in. The life she had once ended and now want to rebuilt. She wondered what Mrs Vale thought of her, why she sponsored her, or if Mrs Vale only want to use her as a pawn for a game in the business world.
Elara turned to leave.
"Call your assistant inside," the woman said while Elara paused, then she nodded.
"Yes."
As she stepped out of the office, she exhaled slowly, only then realizing she had been holding her breath. Mrs Vale's private salon, she thought again. She did not know what awaited her there.
Outside, Ziva straightened immediately when Elara told her the request. She cleared her throat as if preparing for a trial.
"Do not wait for me, I will handle this." she said with a firm nod.
Elara watched her enter, then turned and walked away alone. The hallway was empty and quiet not until she turned a corner and she collided with someone. It happened very fast. A solid presence.The faint scent of something cool and clean.
"I'm sorry," Elara said calmly, already stepping back. Then she looked up and her expression shifted at once. Cool. Then distant.
Adrian Vale, she thought. Or was it Mr Vale. Or maybe just him. She bowed slightly without saying anything else, then she walked past him quickly. She hadn't recovered fully when she heard footsteps behind her. Her heart skipped once and she glanced back. He was walking behind her. Her chest thumped, but she kept walking. When she reached the elevator, she stepped inside, expecting him to pass by.
He didn't. He also stepped in.
Elara stiffened. She stood there, forgetting to press the button. For a brief second, her mind went blank.
Adrian leaned forward and pressed the button instead. Then he pressed another, a lower one. His body was suddenly too close and Elara held her breath without meaning to. When he stepped back, she felt strangely annoyed at her own reaction.
The elevator began to move. Elara stared at the floor indicator above the door, watching the numbers change. She focused on it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
Then suddenly, Adrian spoke.
"You are not allowed on this floor." He said, his voice low and calm. There was no warmth in it, but no hostility either.
"I was told to come," Elara replied.
He paused. Then he turned his head slightly to look at her, not exactly her face. He seem to study the way she stood. Straight. Controlled.
"By whom," he asked, even though it sounded like he did not truly need the answer. Elara met his gaze without blinking. "A senior staff."
There was a brief silence.
"I see," Adrian said, then he looked away. They stood side by side as the elevator descended. When it stopped and the doors opened, Adrian made to step out. At the same time, Elara moved forward to press the button for the lowest floor.
Adrian turned back. The words he meant to say never came for Elara had walked straight into him. Her face pressed against his chest.
Adrian reacted before thinking. His arms came around her instinctively.
Elara froze, then pulled back quickly.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice tight. What's wrong with her today.
Adrian said nothing. He only turned and walked away.
The elevator doors closed.
Elara's heart was racing now, no matter how much she tried to slow it.
When she reached her room, she walked in and fell onto the bed without even removing her shoes. She stared at the ceiling annoyingly.
What a day! She exclaimed...