The first thing I noticed was the smell.
Not the nice kind, like carrot cake or fresh grass. This was scorched cinnamon and old smoke, the kind that tickles your nose and makes your whiskers twitch.
My paws sank into the velvet carpet as I stepped onto the backstage floorboards. They creaked like they were whispering secrets.
My name is Belinda, and yes—I’m a rabbit.
Also yes—I was supposed to be the opening act at the Grand Glimmer Theater, where the world’s finest wizards came to show off. Tonight, though, the sparkle was missing.
“Belinda!” hissed Mr. Quillwick, the stage manager. He was a goose in a waistcoat who always looked like he’d just remembered something embarrassing. “We have a problem. A gigantic, show-eating problem.”
He flapped a program at me. Across the cover was an illustration of a top hat pouring stars.
“The Star Top Hat is gone,” he said. “Without it, the finale can’t happen. The theater doors are sealed until the show ends. No one gets in or out.”
“Which means the thief is inside,” I finished.
My stomach did a little hop. Not a scared hop—more like an excited hop trying to pretend it was scared. A mystery inside a locked theater? That was exactly the kind of trouble that made my ears stand up straight.
I adjusted my cape—black with a lining the color of moonlight—and glanced at my prop case. I wasn’t just any rabbit with a wand. I practiced. I practiced when other rabbits were napping. I practiced until I could pull a silk scarf from an empty paw without thinking.
But a missing Star Top Hat? That wasn’t a trick. That was a puzzle.
Mr. Quillwick shoved three items into my view like he was dealing cards.
“Clues,” he said. “A silver feather found near the pedestal.
