Two years have passed since Azzurra first crossed the threshold of the Richmond Academy of Dance. Two years of morning mists, worn-out pointe shoes, and sea-scented letters arriving from Sicily. Now fourteen, Azzurra is no longer the pale child who emerged from the trauma of the hurricane; she is a young woman of proud bearing, whose movements retain the fluid grace of one raised watching the currents of the Strait, yet tempered with the technical precision demanded by British rigor.
The school, an ancient Gothic manor dubbed "The Castle" by the students, has become her universe. Amidst the gray stone turrets and the immense windows overlooking the park, Azzurra has found a new chosen family.
Oliver, now eighteen and nearing graduation, is her favorite partner for pas de deux. He is a year ahead of her in the advanced course, but an understanding has blossomed between them that goes far beyond dance. Maya, her contemporary and best friend, is her polar opposite: practical, boisterous, and capable of diffusing even the most grueling training sessions with a sarcastic quip or a chocolate bar hidden in her tutu.
"Higher with that arabesque, Azzurra! If you don't stretch that toe, Mrs. Bennett will have you cleaning the castle chimneys!" Oliver joked one November afternoon as he lifted her in a flawless press.
Azzurra laughed—a laugh that now flowed freely. With Oliver and Maya, life had become a balance between the hard work at the barre and the lightheartedness of being fourteen. They would race through the underground corridors connecting the rehearsal rooms to the canteen, challenge each other to see who could eat the most buttered crumpets during breaks, and retreat to the turrets to spy on the deer grazing in the park below.
While Azzurra sought her path amidst the marbles of London, back in Messina, Belinda had never stopped fighting. The "Samuele's Beacon" fund had become an institution, but reconstruction was a slow, bureaucratic monster. Immersed in construction sites and charity work, Belinda nevertheless felt the absence of her daughter like a phantom limb. For this reason, she had asked Nonna Anna, Elia's mother, to travel to London.
Nonna Anna, with her silver bun and the poise of someone who had weathered a century of storms, arrived in Richmond not just as a grandmother, but as a "sentinel." Belinda wanted someone to watch over Azzurra—not out of distrust, but for fear that the overly "perfect" influence of Erica and Mattia might eventually sever the girl's Sicilian roots. Between Anna and the London aunt and uncle reigned a profound respect, but Anna remained loyal to blood and soil.
The meeting at the Castle was moving. When Azzurra saw her grandmother sitting on a stone bench in the school courtyard, she ran toward her, heedless of academic decorum.
"Nonna! What are you doing here?"
"Your mother said you were becoming too English and that you needed a bit of Sicilian sugar to avoid forgetting the taste of home," Anna replied, holding her tight and immediately sensing the change: Azzurra was beautiful, but in her eyes, there was still the conscious shadow of one who knows the meaning of grief.
Erica welcomed Anna with her usual, impeccable benevolence. "It is an honor to have you here, Anna. Azzurra has made incredible progress. She is the star of the school." But Anna, as she sipped tea in Erica's drawing room, observed everything with a critical eye. She noticed how Erica tried to sugarcoat every painful memory, as if she wanted to protect Azzurra by wrapping her in a layer of golden cotton wool.
"This is a magnificent place, Erica," Anna said one afternoon. "But remember that a plant grows well only if we do not cut its roots to make it fit into a crystal vase. Azzurra carries Samuele's name in her heart; we must not be afraid to speak it."
Nonna Anna spent her mornings at the Castle, watching Azzurra dance with Oliver and Maya. She saw the complicity, the laughter in the corridors, the shared toil. She understood that Belinda could rest easy: Azzurra was not forgetting; she was simply learning to dance upon her scars.