What do you think of the beginning of my book?

This story has no title and i’m sorry its so much to read…..
oh and this story take place in a made up world….
THANKS SOOO MUCH!:)

It was the night of all nights. I remember it well. The theater was brightly lit by dozens of chandeliers far above our heads. The show was supposed to be spectacular. One of the best grand old Anastasia Theater had seen yet. Written by an old friend of mine, Mitchum Percy. He was the second of the two reasons I was there that night. And not one of the reasons for which I stayed. Reviews of Mitchum’s show, Voices of the Rain, were coming in as five stars. Far from where I had first met Mitchum, in a bar not too far from the hellhole of a University I attended for several years. The second reason I was here was on account of the begging of my younger sister Jenette and her friend Martha. They had needed an escort to the theater; unwed girls under the ages of 14 were not to be in public unaccompanied.
We took our seats in the left wing as the show began and the lights dimmed. The rich red curtains parted and I thanked my lucky stars that there were two wings in the theater. It bought me more time. Hardly any. Just until intermission. Then I would have to face the Duke and Duchess of Skylin. Or as Jenette and I called them, mother and father.
“Thanks again Matty,” Jenette whispered in my ear, her warm little hand, at least little compared to my own, came to rest on my knee and her eyes hooked onto the first actor to appear on stage. Anastasia Theater was built perhaps three hundred years after this land had been discovered and conquered by a Plute explorer. Its ceiling was carved out of fine dark wood and came swirling down like an odd version of the chandeliers, though without candles. Small white crystals studded the swirling wood and images of the goddess Lor and her sister Diane encircled them. Long and large stain glass windows of blue and gold where the only evidence of a world outside the cinema. The red velvet seats sat over 2,000 audience members, all sold out for tonight’s show.
Bellow the people were watching as the starring role argued with a young man. About what I only hoped to hear. Time flew, intermission came closer and closer. I barely caught the story, music, or faces which made up the play. I wondered if Jen would tell me what I missed if I asked, or if she would simply scold me for drifting. Jenette and Martha laughed at a piece of dialogue and I casually arched my neck, with my binoculars pressed to my face, and peered into the right wing. The Duke and Duchess of Skylin sat up straight in their seats. My mother had her own binoculars held to her eyes, whilst my father seemed uninterested in the whole thing. His only motive for coming to the show was for his reputation. The Duke mixed in with the common people; he is just like everyone else. That was the real show, the real act. Those who believed my father’s masked actions where those who didn’t see that he sat far away from the common people and armed bodyguards stationed themselves every few feet of the man.
Even though I had been waiting for it since the start I was surprised when the lights finally brightened signaling intermission. The girls rose and stretched, long dresses, white on my sister and blue on Martha, stayed tight to their bodies.
“Matty,” Jenette urged, tugging on the sleeve of my suit. She and Martha pulled me out of the left wing, into the balcony, down the stairs and out the doors towards the lobby. Anastasia Theater’s lobby was nowhere near as impressive as its stage, but it still had that historical glow of elegance. I waited patiently as Jen met our parents at the bottom of the stairs opposite the ones we had come down. Father actually smiled as he embraced my sister. If it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have in my existence have seen him with a trace of human in his character.
Of course it wouldn’t be fitting that the Duke’s smile so much as lingered on his face when he saw me approaching him. I stood behind Jen, hands lightly on her shoulders, trying to look tall and proud. My father was an alarming 6’5 and considered himself royalty due to the fact that the real royalty, the king and queen if Plute, where an ocean away. Difficult was the word for trying to appear tall and proud in front of Duke Danforth.
“Matthew,” he greeted, strictly business like with a hint of personal hostility. My mother, who I was sure at some point in my life had actually liked me for a while, did not say a word. Did not even look at me, just at my father. The expression on her face asking her husband not to start this now. What rumors had they heard? I lied earlier. There were three reasons I attended the play that night. The third was to tell my parents that I wanted to quit school. It held about as much interest for me as the play did father. But I knew there were rumors going around as to why. I had heard a few. One said that I had gambled away the money to pay for school. An