Chapter 6 The Princess Role
The footsteps stopped right outside the storage room door. Mia’s heart leaped into her throat. Her eyes darted around the cramped space—With shaking fingers, she shoved the photograph into the back pocket of her jeans just as the door swung open.
Elara stood there, her expression shifting from curious to genuinely concerned the moment she saw Mia’s face. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She stepped inside, wrinkling her nose at the dust-covered boxes. “I only just found out Marcus assigned you here. I’m so sorry, Mia. This is absolutely not how I wanted your first day to go.”
Mia’s pulse was still racing, the hidden photo feeling like it was burning through her jeans. She forced what she hoped looked like a casual smile. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind organizing.”
“Well, I do mind,” Elara said firmly, though her tone stayed warm. She moved closer, carefully stepping around the boxes. “Everyone here is actually wonderful once you get to know them. Theater people can be a bit territorial at first—protective of their space. They just need time to warm up to new faces.” She reached out and squeezed Mia’s arm.
“Please don’t let Sarah’s attitude discourage you. She acts tough, but she’s not a bad person. And I should have kept a better eye on you instead of getting lost in rehearsal. That’s my fault.”
“Honestly, I’m okay.”
“You sure? That's good then.” Elara’s gaze drifted down to the open boxes at Mia’s feet, taking in the organized piles of programs and scattered photos still waiting to be sorted. “Going through the old archives? That’s actually kind of interesting—like time travel through productions. Find anything interesting?”
Mia’s throat went dry. The photograph in her pocket suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. “Just… production programs. Old cast photos. Nothing special.”
“Mmm.” Elara bent down, picking up a faded program from several years ago. “Some of these go way back. I think there might be stuff in here from A Midsummer Night’s Dream—we did that spring semester, a year ago.” She looked up at Mia, something soft and sad flickering in her eyes. “Silas was in that production. And so was Ethan Sullivan. The boy who… who died.”
Mia’s breath caught in her throat, but she managed to keep her face neutral. “They were in a play together?”
“They were actually roommates for a little while too,” Elara said, her voice taking on a quieter tone.
“Just for one semester—freshman year housing assignments, you know how random those are. I don’t think they were particularly close, but they knew each other. They shared a room, and did the play together.” She shook her head slowly. “The rumors about them fighting… I’ve never really understood where those came from. People love drama.
The words hit Mia like physical blows, each one reshaping everything she thought she understood. Roommates. They’d shared a living space, been part of each other’s daily lives. The photograph in her pocket suddenly meant so much more—not just evidence of a connection, but proof of real history between them.
”Yes, Silas can be difficult. Elara continued, meeting Mia’s eyes. “He’s defensive, pushes people away. But he’s not the monster everyone wants him to be.” Her voice grew softer, more vulnerable. “I hope you won’t judge him based on gossip and rumors. I know he was harsh at the party—that’s just how he tests people. But I love him, Mia. I really do. It hurts when people think he’s capable of terrible things.”
The sincerity in Elara’s voice planted seeds of doubt. What if she was wrong? What if the photo, the rumours…everything…what if it's just a tragic coincidence?
“I’m not here to judge anyone,” Mia said carefully, which was technically true. She was here for the truth, whatever that looked like.
“Please don't.” Elara’s smile returned, warm and bright. “Anddd I didn’t actually come down here just to apologize and defend my complicated boyfriend.”
She held out her hand. “I came to rescue you from this dusty tomb and also… ask you for a favor.”
Mia took the offered hand, letting Elara pull her to her feet. “Come with me.”
They walked down the hallway, passing the costume racks and prop tables, until they reached a different rehearsal space—brighter and cleaner, with actual windows letting in the late afternoon light.
On a table in the center of the room sat a stack of bound scripts.
“We’re workshopping a new one-act play for the winter showcase,” Elara explained, her excitement visibly growing. “It’s an original piece in the fantasy genre about a lost princess who must reclaim her kingdom from her treacherous brother, who seized the throne while she was in exile.”
She picked up one of the scripts and held it out to Mia. “I want you to read for the role of the princess.”
Mia stared at the script as if it were a foreign object, then looked back at Elara, certain she had misheard. “Me? You want me to play a princess?”
“Yes!” Elara laughed, clearly delighted by Mia’s shocked expression. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because I’ve never acted in my life,” Mia said bluntly. “Not even in a school play. And I’m…” She gestured vaguely at herself, examining her thrift-store clothes and complete lack of anything resembling royal qualities. “I’m not exactly royal material.”
“That’s exactly why you’d be perfect,” Elara insisted, pressing the script into Mia’s hands with determination. “This princess isn't some delicate flower locked away in a tower. She’s a fighter. She has been through hell, lost everything, and now she’s coming back to reclaim what’s hers.”
Elara's eyes searched Mia's face. “I see that same quality in you. That resilience. You’re stronger than you look, and that’s exactly what this character needs.”
The observation struck uncomfortably close to the truth.
“Plus,” Elara continued, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, “Silas is playing the part of the brother, the one who tries to take the throne for himself. The scenes are really intense—full of conflict, betrayal and complicated history. Very dramatic stuff.” She grinned. “It would be an amazing challenge for your first role.”
And there it was, the perfect bait. Scenes with Silas meant hours of rehearsing together, spending time close to him, which was exactly what Mia had been trying to figure out how to achieve. And Elara was offering it to her, freely.
.
“I’m not sure,” Mia replied, pretending to hesitate. “Wouldn’t you prefer someone who has more experience?”
“Pleaseee,” Elara urged, placing a hand on her arm. “Just read a few lines for me?”
“We’d have a workshop session…tomorrow, just you, me, Silas, and our director, Ben. I promise it'll be very casual and low pressure. If it feels wrong, no problem. But I have this strong feeling you’re going to surprise everyone.”
Mia looked down at the script again, running her thumb over the edge of the pages, then at Elara’s hopeful expression. This was exactly what she needed to get close to Silas, to watch him, to find the truth.
“Okayyy,” she said finally. “I’ll try it. Just the read-through though. No promises beyond that.”
“Perfect!” Elara practically glowed with satisfaction, pulling Mia into an impulsive hug that smelled like expensive perfume. “Tomorrow at four. Wear something you can move in—we might do some blocking if the reading goes well.”
After Elara left, practically bouncing with excitement, Mia stood alone in the bright rehearsal space. She clutched the script in one hand and slowly pulled out the photograph with the other.
She was going to play Silas’s sister in a story about betrayal while trying to prove he’d murdered the boy he’d once lived with.