Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,50

Chanda’s character had twelve costume changes – and that was just in the first act. Her leg had improved a lot in the two weeks since she’d left hospital, but it was still a bit stiff and occasionally gave her a jolt of pain. She hoped there wouldn’t be too much running around.

‘But Theobold … he really is something,’ Dame Chanda went on, picking up a pot of face powder and puffing great clouds of it all over her face. ‘One would think a moosewun might have an impressive baritone, but for such an exquisite tenor voice to come from that big antlered – oh!’ She caught sight of something in the mirror and gasped. ‘Morrigan, my sweet, I think we have a loose thread on this sleeve, will you – that’s it, carefully now. Don’t pull too hard, it might unravel. There mustn’t be a single stitch or sequin out of place. We must bring honour to … to Juvela’s … to her beautiful …’

Dame Chanda trailed off, covering her mouth to hide a little sob as tears sprang to her eyes. Morrigan froze in a slight panic, wondering what she ought to do.

The Wunimal and arts communities had another reason for coming out in force to support The Maledictions’ opening night. Before the fateful events of Christmas Eve, Juvela De Flimsé had singlehandedly designed every costume in the production. In the weeks after she’d been found in the snow, the newspapers still hadn’t mentioned a word about her strange behaviour on the Wunderground (which made Morrigan suspect Jupiter was right about Wunsoc trying to hush things up), but they had obsessively covered every angle of the famous leopardwun’s life prior to her mysterious coma. People from the fashion and opera worlds alike had lined up to preview the costumes before the season even began, lavishing praise on them as extravagant, intelligent works of De Flimsé’s peculiar artistic genius.

Morrigan looked around the room for something that might help, her gaze finally landing on a box of tissues. She grabbed at them like a lifejacket on a sinking boat and thrust them in front of the soprano.

‘Juvela … wouldn’t want you to be upset tonight,’ she said, offering a small, sympathetic smile in the mirror.

‘No.’ Dame Chanda sniffed. She returned Morrigan’s smile, plucking a tissue from the box. ‘No, you’re quite right, darling. Tonight is a celebration! And as they say, the show must go on.’ She rose fluidly from her seat, turning to strike a dignified pose. ‘How do I look?’

Morrigan took in a sharp breath. The villainess Euphoriana stood before her, resplendent in a gown of deep purple and midnight black silk, shot through with a bright metallic sheen. The fabric seemed to float on her skin, pooling on the floor around her feet like oil. Draped across her shoulders was a cape of black roses, stitched together with fine silver thread and interspersed with intricate beadwork. Curling upwards from her head was a tall, elegant crown that resembled a pair of horns, hand-carved from solid onyx by Juvela herself.

Morrigan was so awestruck she could barely speak.

‘Magnificent,’ she said at last. Dame Chanda beamed.

Morrigan hadn’t expected to enjoy the opera very much, truth be told. It was one of the reasons she’d been happy to volunteer as Dame Chanda’s emergency backstage helper, instead of joining Jupiter, Frank, Martha and Fenestra in the box (she’d been somehow unsurprised to learn her patron had his own box at the Nevermoor Opera House – there was a little plaque on the door with his name on it and everything).

Jack had regretfully declined his opening night invitation, citing too much schoolwork, but he’d privately warned Morrigan that opera was quite boring, so she’d better practise looking interested and not falling asleep.

But when the lights went up and Euphoriana sang her first notes, Morrigan found herself utterly spellbound. As she watched from backstage, the sweeping music and emotional performances seemed to reach right inside her chest and poke her in the heart.

Between urgent moments of wardrobe madness, Morrigan pieced together the story of Queen Euphoriana, a woman feared and hated by her people. As a young spoiled princess, she once was rude to a troubadour in her court, laughing at his strange music and language. The troubadour cursed her to be misunderstood by everyone she met, for the rest of her life.

Years later, the maligned Queen Euphoriana has grown bitter and hateful, until one day she falls in love at first sight with

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