Caroline walked over to a small audio monitor, pressed a control button, and the slow, rhythmic cadence of a classical waltz filled the space. "Whenever you're ready, Annie."
Annie did not start moving immediately. She stood perfectly still, listening first. That was the first attribute Caroline noted: the child did not rush to be impressive. She waited for the music to settle into her structure, the way some children waited for bathwater to warm before stepping in.
Then, Annie moved—one step, then another. It was a turn that was not technically perfect according to academy rules, but it was entirely balanced. Her arms lifted slightly—not in a trained, rigid frame, but as if they understood intuitively that they were supposed to float on the melody.
Caroline did not interrupt the sequence. She watched Annie's feet, then her hips, then her shoulders, and finally her face. Most children looked directly at the mirror when they danced; Annie did not. She looked slightly past everything, as if the core of the music were located somewhere just beyond the physical room.
After about a minute, Caroline cut the audio. She walked back slowly across the floor and crouched in front of Annie. "Who exactly showed you how to do that turn, Annie?"
Annie shook her head. "Nobody."
"You've never taken a single class?"
"No, ma'am."
Caroline studied her features for another long moment, then stood up and turned toward the adults. "She has natural timing," she said flatly. "That cannot actually be taught. Balance can be taught, posture can be taught, and technique can be drilled. But musical timing like that? It's either built into the bones or it isn't."
Lena's stomach tightened. She did not know whether she was supposed to feel pride or fear when people analyzed her child like that.
Charles spoke for the first time since the waltz began. "What exactly would her development require, Caroline?"
Caroline did not answer immediately. She looked back at Annie, who was standing very still on her mark, listening as if her future were being decided in a language she did not fully speak.
"She needs structured training," Caroline said finally. "Proper technique, several days a week. She needs an academic school that can flex around that physical schedule. She needs specialized nutrition, proper rest, and medical supervision for her joints as she grows. And most importantly, she needs to *not* be turned into a performing animal before she understands what she's doing."