Nocturne

One

The Master came into my life like the dusk. Slowly, until all the city was covered in night. And I, a star waiting to burn.

It was winter, or nearly so, the cold before the snow when the air goes still around you and inside of you. The radiator in my little room in the boardinghouse was shaky at best and I shivered getting dressed, frost in the corners of the window. With the heel of my hand I wiped away the condensation, an unchanging view of the brick alley beyond. Though it was early I had eaten already eggs and toast with margarine but still my belly rumbled because it was not enough and never would be.

My breath quickly misted the glass again; I stepped away. Nine years into the economic depression and my basic needs were met, even if this was the coldest of rooms in the creakiest boardinghouse on the North Side of Chicago. Granted, the matron, Mrs. O Donnell, served us more than most for dinner: baked beans with cornbread and Hoover stew. Dandelion salad, and potato pancakes, and potato soup. Boiled carrots and spaghetti, cabbage and dumplings all of it fine, though none of it appealing. I knew I was fortunate, I did; and yet, even the guilt of ingratitude was not enough to banish my growing discontent.

This can t be all there is.

I was thinking of running away forever when there was a knock on my bedroom door.

I had made it part of my routine every morning, imagining how I would manage it: out the window, down the alley, through the park. Hurrying, but not so fast as to appear suspicious, or as if I were going anywhere in particular. Hair up, no wind, a half-melted moon in the dim afternoon guiding me toward the open water, the lake like one long shadow. There I would wade into the water and the waves would carry me to another world entirely to a place I had never been, and from which I would not be able to find my way back again. Or, at the very least, to a crack in this world, a place where magic coats everything like a layer of

Alyssa Wees is the acclaimed author of The Waking Forest. She grew up writing stories about her Beanie Babies in between ballet lessons. She earned a BA in English from Creighton University and an MFA in fiction writing from Columbia College Chicago. Currently she works as an assistant librarian in youth services at an awesome public library. She lives in the Chicagoland area with her husband and their two cats.

An enchanting and lyrical fever dream bursting with dazzling prose and dark romance, Nocturne enthralled me. Erin A. Craig, New York Times bestselling author of House of Salt and Sorrows

Richly imagined and heartbreakingly told, Nocturne is a lush gothic romance that will dance you dizzy. Hannah Whitten, New York Times bestselling author of For the Wolf

No one writes the way Alyssa Wees does, and Nocturne is her latest masterpiece. Like the ballet pulsing at its core, the story is both sinuous and quick on its feet, leading the reader through a labyrinth of emotions that range from the brightest passion to the darkest grief. A powerful, haunting read. Joan He, New York Times bestselling author of Strike the Zither

A beautiful nightmare and a fairy tale all at once . . . Wees s lyrical prose swept me away in this unique story about the battle between love and despair. Nocturne is not to be missed. Evelyn Skye, New York Times bestselling author of The Crown s Game

In Nocturne, Wees robes the classic story of Beauty and the Beast in lush prose and infinite splendor. It s a fever dream of a novel, surreal and intricate, and enchanting in every way. Ava Reid, author of The Wolf and the Woodsman

Haunting and immersive like a dream poured onto a page . . . Alyssa Wees has deftly spun a dark tale of romance, betrayal, and destiny. Nocturne kept me in its sinister grip from the first page to the last. Heather Walter, author of Malice

Darkly beautiful and threaded through with an undercurrent of magic and madness, Nocturne is a captivating tale replete with layers of illusion, where true enchantment hides beneath the manufactured witchery and gossamer splendor of the ballet. Leife Shallcross, author of The Beast s Heart

Nocturne reads like a fable, a mythical tale full of magical power, but imbued with the very real and wonderfully graceful power of ballet. Its heroine is a prima