At long last,Marie Luis going back in time.
And it isnt just any musical prodigy: Her heroine, Nannerl, is Mozarts sister.
She is a young woman in 18th century Europe, and that means composing is forbidden to her.
Credit: Primo/Penguin Random House
She will perform only until she reaches a marriageable age; her tyrannical father has made that much clear.
He has the power to make her wish come true.
But his help may cost her everything.
Penguin Young Readers
With nineNew York Timesbest-sellers under her belt, a whole new fantasy universe from Lu marks a major event.
The novel publishes March 3, 2020, and isavailable for pre-order.
You know those moments.
There is a peculiar pattern to the silhouettes of leaves quivering against the sunbeam on the floor.
The dust in the air glows white, charmed.
Your voice is a note suspended in the breeze.
Perhaps it is happening right now.
I had recently turned eight years old.
My brother, Wolfgang, was not yet four.
I paused in the middle of my arpeggios and folded my hands in my lap.
His voice had been steeped in something rich and baritone.
The scent of the street wind and smoke and baked breadlingered like a perfume on his coat.
My lips were rosy and dry.
My hair stayed neatly curled behind my neck in loose dark waves, held back with pins.
My mothers voice sweetened with surprise at the sound of men in the room.
Such talk of the archbishop and the orchestra, its no wonder you and my husband are always tired.
Sebastian, she added, nodding at our manservant.
The Herrs coat and hat.
Sebastian hung up the court trumpeters belongings.
Beside them, my fathers coat appeared worn, the threads thin at the elbows.
My eyes wandered to the hem of my mothers dressit was fraying, the color dull.
We were the look of a family forever on the edge of respectable.
She gave me an encouraging glance as she passed me.
Steady, little one, she had said to me earlier in the morning.You have practiced hard for this.
Do not be nervous.
I kept her words in mind and tried to loosen my shoulders.
But Papa had timed their arrival a bit too early this morning.
I had only played my scales so far.
I hoped he would remain quiet until Herr Schachtner left, or at least until I finished playing.
Ah, Frau Mozart, he replied, winking at her as he kissed her hand.
I always tell Leopold how lucky he is to have found the rare woman with a good ear.
My mother blushed and thanked him for his kind words.
Her skirts glided against the floor as she curtsied.
I can only claim my gifted ear from my father, she told him.
He was a talented musician, you know.
It was clear she pleased the Herr, because his grin broadened.
Yes, God has blessed me in many ways, my father said.
His smile was coiled as tightly as my nerves.
His eyes flashed in my direction, hard and glittering.
Nannerl inherits her good ear from her mother, as youll soon see.
It was my unspoken cue.
At my fathers words, I rose obediently from my bench to greet our guest.
He said it made visitors think me a distracted and careless young lady.
I could not give Herr Schachtner any reason to find me rude.
Mama called for Sebastian to bring some coffee and tea, but Papa waved her off.
Later, he said.
It was best, perhaps, if the Herr did not see our porcelain set.
I pictured the old saucers with their small chips, the teapots fading paint.
Herr Schachtner brushed the leaves from the velvet of his justaucorps.
Thank you, Frau Mozart, but I will not stay long.
I am here to listen to your lovely daughters progress on the clavier.
Johann followed me home after I mentioned Nannerls talents.
My father patted Herr Schachtners shoulder.
He could not help himself.
What luck, Mama said.
She arched a brow at me.
You are just in time, then.
Nannerl happens to be in the middle of practicing.
My hands trembled and I pressed them together harder, trying to warm them.
Today would be the first time I ever performed for an audience.
Your music will be as if God has given you eternal life.
My father, God .
there was little difference between them to me.
Id imagined the Herr demanding I play before a wider audience.
My father making the arrangements.
Coins filling our familys coffers and the strain easing from his eyes.
That was the reason behind everything this morning.
Children my age, Papa said, could not play the clavier with the skill that I did.
I was the miracle.
Chosen by a divine hand.
Destined to be noticed.
He would be my gateway to the royal courts of Europe, to the kings and queens.
From my hands could sing the voice of God, worth its weight in gold.
Nannerl, is it?
Herr Schachtners voice addressed me.
I nodded in his direction.
My chest fluttered as if it were brimming with moths.
My fingers twitched, eager to dance.
Yes, Herr, I said.
The last time he visited our home, he had not noticed me.
But, then, he had no reason to.
