A Cursed Dancer Longs for Freedom In This Excerpt From Girls of Dark Divine

Not every fantasy story is a fairytale—sometimes they’re nightmares. That’s the general vibe of Girls of Dark Divine, a lush, gothic YA fantasy that wrestles with themes of sisterhood, love, freedom, and control, all wrapped up in the story of a cursed ballet troupe, where dancing isn’t just life—it’s also death. 

Described as Phantom of the Opera meets Black Swan, the story follows a group of beautiful dancers bound by a cruel curse that not only makes them literal puppets in thrall to their master but robs them of their memories—and eventually their lives. As lead dancer Emberlyn struggles to find a way to save herself and her sisters, she’ll be forced not only to trust a mysterious stranger but face the horrible truth of their curse’s origins—and what it might mean for her own life if she manages to break it.

Here’s how the publisher describes the story.

In the legendary ballet theatre of New Kora, the girls onstage enchant the audience each night with their grace and divine beauty. Before Emberlyn was the star of the show, it was her dream to become one of them… until she learned the price of their living nightmare.

A magical curse binds the girls to the show’s mastermind, Malcolm, whose invisible strings wield their limbs as if they are marionettes. . . and the commands don’t stop when the curtain comes down. Each dancer is destined to turn to dust once the curse consumes her.

When the troupe is invited to perform in the glitzy city of Parlizia, Emberlyn knows this could be her best chance to save them all. She meets an elusive boy made of shadows who has a magical connection to the girls. Together, they work to unravel the haunting truth about their creation and fight for their survival. But the cost of freedom might be too high, and as Emberlyn dances closer to the edge of darkness, she realizes she might break the curse. . . or break her own heart forever.

Girls of Dark Divine won’t hit shelves until August 5, but we’ve got an exclusive first look at the story for you right now. 

SEVEN

A Ballroom of Broken Dreams 

If Emberlyn owned anything, had any possession to boast of, it was her defiance. Her resilience. In her heart of hearts, she knew she wouldn’t yield it easily.

Though, listening to Grace’s screams as the curse wound through her veins, sandpapering against her skin from the inside out, Emberlyn felt that resilience come close to extinguishing. Despair replaced her hope as Grace’s howls continued long into the night and every night after that, despite the comfort her new sisters tried to bring her. No matter how often Aleida whispered comforting words into her ear and dabbed her burning forehead with a cool compress. Emberlyn covered her ears with her pillow as she turned her back on the Marionettes, trying to shut out the sound of Grace begging for her mother.

Until one night, the cries stopped. The shivers, the sweating, the screaming all stopped as her memories faded and the pain receded. Grace became an empty shell, reduced to nothing more than throat-clenching moans of sorrow.

Emberlyn distracted herself from the sound of Grace mourning her lost life by imagining the feel of that shadow’s hands on hers long into the night. Her eyes closed, she’d remember the pressure of his fingers at her hips as he lifted her in the heat of the spotlights, the firmness of his grip when he held her hands to spin her. She’d silently, slowly, trace her own skin where he’d held her in their last performance, pretending she could feel his touch still. Trying to pull the comfort she so desperately wanted from the sensation, a distraction from the grief that filled the dormitory like a bubble straining to burst.

There was something so human, so pure, in the way the shadow touched her. As if he was creating art with her body, and Emberlyn was his willing muse.

She thought, too, in the endless hours of those nights, about Aleida’s refusal to run. Although they hadn’t much spoken since, and though Emberlyn had ignored the mournful looks shot her way since they’d pinned Grace down during her cursing, she thought of nothing but taking Aleida’s hand and escaping into the night as they instead orbited each other in mutual silence.

Emberlyn understood that Aleida was not going with her. When two weeks had passed since Grace’s cursing, and she found herself standing on the edge of the farewell ball Malcolm had thrown ahead of their departure for Parlizia, Emberlyn realized if she was going to run, it was going to have to be without her.

The ballroom Malcolm had hired for the celebration was brilliantly lit, sparkling and heaving—a testament to the breathtaking funds he had squirreled away. Theater owners, dancers, and members of New Kora’s elite flitted through the grand ballroom on clouds of sickly sweet perfume. Their high-pitched laughter frayed Emberlyn’s nerves. The sparkle in the ladies’ dresses competed for prominence with the chandeliers, where dewdrop crystals rebounded the light so it pierced every corner of the ballroom. It soared through the arched windows and stained the night beyond.

It was Malcolm’s way of saying farewell to New Kora. Behind the front of generosity and excitement, he demonstrated just how superior he and his wonderful Marionettes were compared with New Kora’s other troupes. The extravagance they could afford, the attention they received. Emberlyn didn’t fail to notice the envious glares shot in her direction, quickly covered with smiles when she met the guests’ eyes. They didn’t want to be caught glaring at the revered Princess of New Kora.

She stood to the side as far away from the crowd as se could get, a crystal flute of champagne clutched in her gloved hands and an emerald-green evening dress hugging her every curve. Aleida had brought the drink over for her, eyes wide with hope that this small gesture would at least earn her some kind of relief from Emberlyn’s burning frustration, but Emberlyn had only taken it from her hand and turned on her heel, ignoring the sad eyes boring into her back.

The Marionettes were not usually allowed to drink, but the pale gold liquid held no interest for her. She’d taken it without a word of thanks from Aleida only because she knew it would upset her, and despite her love for her best friend, something inside her wanted to punish someone, place the blame elsewhere, for what she had just been through with Grace.

Emberlyn’s eyes kept darting to Malcolm, her thumb rubbing along the rim of her champagne flute. She counted up the glasses of wine and champagne he had poured down his throat as women leaned in, laughing, their fingers trailing along Malcolm’s shoulders in a way that made Emberlyn’s teeth grind.

But she didn’t look away. She wanted to know exactly how much he’d had so she could guess what to expect later. Whether he would seek out one of her sisters in a drunken stupor to beat them for no other reason than for sport. He was more unpredictable when he was drunk, more likely to cause the kind of agony that set off flashbulbs behind eyelids. She hadn’t bothered herself with Grace, but she wasn’t heartless. She didn’t want the new Marionette to know what Malcolm was truly capable of. She didn’t want her to ever experience that, though that was an empty wish that couldn’t possibly come true.

“You look like you’re trying to murder someone with your eyes.”

Emberlyn jumped, almost sloshing her champagne as Jia silently appeared at her side. A whole head shorter and a couple of years younger, she had to tilt her head up to give Emberlyn an apologetic smile.

Emberlyn smiled back wryly when her heart had recovered. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Jia paused, turning to follow her gaze. She made a small noise at the back of her throat when she found Malcolm at the end of it. “He’s already announced Grace as his new Marionette. The New Kora Times ran an article about her.”

Emberlyn’s stomach rolled. “How is she?” she asked quietly.

“Coping. Of course, Malcolm thought she wasn’t ready to attend. I don’t know what excuse he has given for her absence.”

The two girls watched Malcolm. His face was ruddy with pleasure as those surrounding him broke into demure giggles. Emberlyn thought of Grace alone in the dormitory back at the theater. No doubt feeling hollower than she could have ever thought possible with nothing but the darkness for company.

Suddenly, an introductory note of a bow pulled across strings sang through the ballroom, instantly hushing the murmur of chatter. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked eagerly to the orchestra, finely dressed in satin and silk. The conductor bowed, then flicked his wrist. The music began.

Emberlyn’s gaze followed the smiling faces that rushed to fill the empty space of the dance floor, her heart twisting with bitterness. Skirts swirled in a kaleidoscope of color. She watched the joy of dancing that sat squarely on each of their faces with a detached kind of familiarity.

Dancing had been her life. Her everything. But now she could barely look at others reveling in the unbridled pleasure of movement, of expression, without her stomach feeling sour.

Her gaze snagged on someone. She recognized some of those who twirled on the dance floor.

“What the hell are they doing?” Emberlyn demanded. She pushed away from the wall, forcing herself to stop after a couple of agitated steps forward. Rosalyn, Miriam, and Anushka were in the crowd, twirling as their partners entwined their hands with theirs. “They’re dancing?”

Jia tried to hide her wistful expression. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Dancing?” Emberlyn spluttered again. “Aren’t we forced into that enough? Is Malcolm even allowing them to take dance partners?”

A smile played on Jia’s lips as she watched Rosalyn tip her head back and laugh, her partner staring down at her with an expression of curious wonder. They dipped and dived in among the other couples, the light of Rosalyn’s smile enough to challenge the chandelier above. Ida had joined the crowd and was being twirled completely out of time to the beat by a woman in a rich violet gown, but by the giddy expressions on their faces, neither seemed to care much about the dance itself.

“Yes.” Jia shrugged, running her hands down her skirts. “Looks good for the investors and such, and those poor fools are already head over heels in love with them. You just know they’ll empty their pockets to Malcolm. And . . . well, we are dancers. When are we ever allowed to dance for the love of it? Allowed to find these small snippets of uncontrolled joy?” Jia turned and looked expectantly at Emberlyn. “When was the last time you danced?”

Emberlyn’s chest tightened. She swallowed as a longing ache filled her body, but she gritted her teeth and moved to lean against the wall again, tilting her head away from the man across the room who eagerly tried to catch her eyes.

“I . . . I don’t know,” she answered. In truth, it was a blaze she hadn’t felt in a long time. It disappeared as if it had barely been there the day she was cursed—almost three years ago, she guessed, by the changing of the seasons. She must be seventeen by now, though she couldn’t know for sure. Malcolm didn’t care to remember their birthdays for them.

She felt the embers of that lost joy when the shadow came to wrap his arms around her. In those moments when she seemed to wake from a nightmare and dance with a dream. But she knew he wasn’t real. He was only an illusion, as was that longing burn she felt when she danced with him.

Emberlyn and Jia watched the swirl of the dancers responding to the crescendo of the music for a few moments more, before Jia spoke again.

“I miss it,” she said, her voice low.

“I don’t,” Emberlyn spat, though they both knew she was lying. The words tasted bitter on her tongue. But Emberlyn wouldn’t entertain thoughts of such a thing. It would feel like accepting Malcolm’s design for them. Like curtsying to her forced fate and extending her hand out in an invitation. She watched the Marionettes for a moment longer, before she tilted her head toward Jia. She was transfixed by those on the dance floor, the wistful wonder that had been on her face only moments ago now replaced with sorrow.

She turned to Malcolm, leading a woman in pale pink to the dance floor. Fury unlike any she’d felt before raged through her when she took in his beaming grin.

She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to take from him like he had from every one of them. Hope. Life. Freedom. Choice. Something. He took these girls away from everything they knew and danced them until they crumpled.

Instead, Emberlyn wrapped her arm around Jia and pulled her in, gently kissing the top of her head.

“I am so sorry, Jia,” she murmured into her hair. “For this. For this life.”

Jia chuckled and struggled out of Emberlyn’s grasp, softly pushing her away. “Don’t be silly.” She grinned through eyes brimming with tears. “It’s not your fault. You suffer the exact same.”

Emberlyn’s chest wrenched with shame. She did, but she was also willing to leave her behind. Leave all of them behind to endure until she could make it back to save them. She didn’t trust anyone but Aleida to attempt escape with her, not when one wrong step could spell a lifetime of torture at Malcolm’s hand. She forced her trembling lips into a smile.

Jia smiled back at her, then turned to look at Malcolm. “Try not to throw too many more murderous glances at Malcolm tonight, okay?” She wandered away, disappearing into the heaving, twirling crowd.

Emberlyn pushed away from the wall again, her mind racing and spinning like the dancers she glided toward. Skirts spun and snapped, smiles flicking in and out in flashes as heads twisted and turned. Emberlyn circled the edge, hunting out her sisters as her stomach clenched at the scent of a hundred warring sweet perfumes.

She spotted Rosalyn. Her blond hair was elegantly piled, two twisted locks framing her cheekbones and accentuating her swanlike neck. She gazed up at her partner with a longing Emberlyn had seen on Rosalyn’s face before, when she tucked herself away in novels about young women who built their dreams alongside those of someone they loved. Malcolm may have allowed a partner to place their hands on her tonight, to hold her, but when he put his fence up around her once more, Rosalyn’s heart would be broken again.

Emberlyn kept walking, picking out Ida as she twirled on the dance floor, still sweeping around haphazardly with her hands tangled with the woman in violet’s fingers. Stolen from right here in New Kora, Ida had been snatched out of her prestigious ballet school and forced to live in a shadow of her own dreams. She spotted Miriam as she returned from the buffet table with biscuits cupped in her hands, staring at them longingly with the look of someone rarely allowed such treats with a flush rising to her alabaster skin. Malcolm kept a close eye on what food he allowed into the theater, wanting to make sure his Marionettes didn’t overindulge.

Anushka stood at the edge of the dance floor, easily moving between groups of huddled patrons, her charm and wit oozing from her easy smile as everybody she talked to fell in love with her. From the shine in her eye, Emberlyn knew she was reveling in her brief freedom.

Aleida was inside the twirling mass of bodies alone, her arms raised, her eyes closed and head tipped back as if feeling the music running through her. Emberlyn halted her pacing to watch her.

A look of bittersweet pain sat squarely in Aleida’s features— imperceptible to all but those who knew her inside out. The slight furrow of her brow, the crease that appeared between them when she wrinkled her nose. Her brown skin was dusted with a pink-and-purple powder that made her glitter in the light as she swayed. Every movement precise. Every movement her choice.

Emberlyn’s chest wrenched at the sight of Aleida sinking into the music, the world around her melting away to become something inconsequential. Emberlyn turned away as if it were something private she shouldn’t be witness to. A small part of her, though, was glad Aleida had stopped trying to bring Emberlyn drinks and was enjoying this moment of elation. She deserved this little heartbeat of contentment.

Despite what had happened, their differences, she wished she could give Aleida the power to dance freely whenever she chose to. Every single one of the Marionettes had been torn away from a life, a future, that could no longer exist. Miriam’s desire to travel the world and sample the food of every nation. 

Rosalyn’s dream to marry for love and bear three perfect children. Jia’s wish to open a rescue home for dogs, Anushka to return to her theater in her home country, Ida’s to open her own dance school and teach the next generation. Emberlyn knew all their most hopeless desires, breathed into slim, temporary existences when the Marionettes spent evenings around the common-room fire, dreaming of the lives they should have had.

Emberlyn’s body started to crumple under the weight of her sisters’ shattered dreams, raising her hand to her face to scrub away the angry tears that forced their way out. She turned from the crowd, unable to look at her sisters anymore, her mind made up.

She would make her escape on the way to Parlizia, find help, and save them all from this curse that was slowly killing them. Because it would kill them all. She was certain.

And because she, with her courage, her bravery, her recklessness, was the best hope any of them had.

 Girls of Dark Divine will be released on August 5, but you can pre-order it right now.

Lacy Baugher Milas writes about Books and TV at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter and Bluesky at @LacyMB