Daron’s pulse stilled, his heart quiet. A sudden flash of mask sequins glinted like dark fires in his memory, but this girl wore no mask. His gaze drew to her face. Lovely, as they always were. The other judges thought the same from the way they stole peeks of the assistant’s legs stalking out from under the rosy pink feathers and tassels of her skirt.
Erasmus’s face lit up as the assistant and the magician made their way to the raised prop box in the center. “Welcome to the stage!” His voice boomed, at its most charming. “Acquired or born?”
“Pardon?”
“Your magic,” Erasmus clarified. “Is it acquired, or born?”
Daron waited, head tilted. The distinctions came right from the Patrons, as part of their mission to define the known from the unknown. Magic was an unpredictable element, both controlled yet volatile depending on the magician, and his aunt and her team did their best to monitor its dangers and anomalies, to ensure no magician abused their power on anybody or anything throughout Soltair.
Aunt Cata would likely have words about this entire competition. Magic and show business are dangerous enough games alone, she’d tsk whenever the Patrons were called in to shut down a few stage events in New Crown for spiraling out of control. So far Daron had seen no cause for alarm in Glorian. The magicians who’d auditioned had all claimed acquired magic, displaying mostly tame tricks and boasting how the prestigious Valmont Brothers Academy had groomed them. Their powers were not inherently in their blood, but pulled from the air. Unlike born magic: raw natural talent within.
Daron raised his brow as the magician looked nervously at his assistant, who shrugged. Both of them, clueless.
“I … uh,” the man on stage stuttered. “Acquired?”
If he’d said born, Daron would’ve been the first to chew him out. Of the entire judges’ row, he was the only born magician among them. The trait skipped generations in families, so rare that when he and Eva were born, it was something of a city-wide celebration. Born magicians, amongst the Patrons again! Probably the only reason his first audiences were drawn to his shows when he was still so fresh to the stage, fascinated by what a servant of a Great could pull off.
Even Erasmus appeared dubious, but continued. “As you see, we’ve provided a prop. Simple, no tricks to it. At least, until you’re done with it.”
The last sentence ended on a flirtatious note, and Daron rolled his eyes when the sparkly assistant giggled in reply. Especially when the man on stage tripped over his own feet.
“Oh, terribly sorry!” He was even clumsier in his process of straightening back up. “It’s … all part of the illusion, you see.”
Daron sighed, waiting for the man to do more than let his assistant guide him. He had inspected the prop box himself, to make sure no tricks had been planted in the basic medium-sized wooden crate. Some contestants had attempted to pull out objects and animals from within as if they’d been in there the whole time. Predictable, but with a few mystifying results. A feather preceding a flock of birds taking flight, a stack of hats taller than the box itself. Several tried inserting themselves or their assistants inside to make them disappear. All but a few failing to impress.
“No, I’m the one who’s terribly sorry.”
Ice brushed up Daron’s spine at a bold new drawl—the assistant, taking center stage. Seizing it, like it was her right. She curled her satin gloved fingers, and the lights around them began to dim.
“My assistant is not what he used to be, it seems.”
All part of the illusion. Daron’s mouth fell as the man tore off his hat and gave a flourishing bow toward the girl. The dusty old curtains of the high windows around them lowered into place until all hints of the bleak morning vanished. The darkness sent the other judges stirring in their seats, and even Daron felt a reel of unease and excitement tightening his core.
Looking down at them, the girl smiled. Satisfied.
“I won’t be needing this, either.” With a snap of her fingers, all sides of the wooden box broke apart with a slam. Mayor Eilin jumped back, but Daron leaned forward. His ears perked at the slow click of her heels on stage, deliberate and unhurried.
Shadows bathed the room entirely, until a bright glow revealed itself in the palm of her hands, illuminating her face. The amused purse of her lips, hiding a secret.
Without warning, she raised the fire in her hands until the flames stood like globes, which she tossed into the air. They hovered above her head as she conjured two more orbs, and another—tossing them up in a row of spiraling flames.
Daron watched as she sent the fire spinning fast, traveling around her assistant in all manner of patterns. Not once did the assistant flinch, but he bore a raw look of awe as the flames circled him like sparrows dancing in flight. His fellow judges were just as mesmerized by the display.
Zarose. This girl had power.
And yet, Daron could tell she was holding back. As if she held all the cards in her hands, and had only decided to indulge them with a brief flash of one. She narrowed her eyes on each judge all the way to the end, and met Daron’s stare with a wink.
He recoiled and looked away, jaw tense. With a sudden intensity, he focused back on the spinning fires. They spiraled and speared out of pattern as they dipped and made way for the table.
Judges Bouquet, Armandos, and Silu all cowered back. The mayor edged lower in his seat. Only Erasmus’s excited yowl sounded when a flame brushed too close. Daron felt the heat by his cheeks, and the hairs on his arm stood on end. It truly was fire. Not merely an illusion, but actual flames she’d pulled out of thin air.
A true show magician, at last.
After circling the judges’ table, the fire arched high above the girl’s head where the flames collided and burst in a shower of sparks over the stage. They fizzled fast, leaving nothing but the dark. Light gradually filtered in as the curtains of the high windows were slowly drawn open.
The silence afterward stretched on, long enough that the performer crossed her arms with a relaxed smirk that appeared more wicked than it had any right to be.
Mayor Eilin stood from his seat first, his hands balled into fists against the table. “Young miss, just who do you think you are?”
“Number twenty-four.”
“Absolutely not! After a display like that?” Judge Silu shot straight up from a few seats down, staggering a bit. “Is that what they’re teaching the ladies at Queen Casine’s nowadays?”
A few men chortled, but the magician’s brow rose. “I’m relieved you all know how to laugh. I wasn’t so sure when you were cowering in your seats.”
The men abruptly stopped. She certainly was not from Queen Casine’s Academy. From what he remembered of Eva’s heated complaints, the sister school to Valmont Brothers would never be able to contain a magician quite like this one.
“You attacked us,” Judge Bouquet countered, red-faced and unamused. “You disregarded your one object. And on top of that, you cannot simply use a man for a prop.”
“Well, why not?” The girl paced in her showgirl’s outfit with all the might of wearing steel-forged armor. “You have your assistants in sparkly attire like this, yes? I don’t know about them, but my assistant entered into this arrangement willingly. And decently dressed, at least.”
The man next to her nodded rather smugly, while the judge’s nostrils flared as he sat back down. The whole room was drenched in the same frigid uneasiness across all the men. With the exception of a beaming Erasmus.
“Wonderful, my dear! And so very curious,” he praised, clapping slowly. “After days of all these dreadful auditions, you finally give me light. You give me a show—”
“Rayne, you’re not seriously considering this.” Mayor Eilin sighed heavily. “I thought we had an understanding. Remember that odd girl we turned away the other day? At your insistence?”
Daron cringed at the memory. A dark-skinned girl with ruby-red hair had taken to the stage, determined and hungry-eyed. But before she could deliver a tri
ck, Erasmus had ordered her away without delay. No explanation, only a cruel dismissal.
“She was one of my circus girls, and according to their contracts, they have a job,” Erasmus said flatly, before gesturing to the magician on stage. As though she were a new toy. A weapon. “But she is something else. What we’ve been missing!”
“She cannot be permitted to enter.” Mayor Eilin’s voice tightened. “Female magicians are not meant for the stage, it’s unorthodox—”
“All the more reason to have her!”
“You don’t get it. Magic like this—” He waved a hand at her, grimacing. “—doesn’t belong in Glorian. It’s too risky. And indecent.”
“What, me? Indecent?” The girl gasped, a trembling hand over her heart. Daron nearly choked as she chuckled and twirled the skirt of deceptively sweet pink sequins about her, flashing even more of her legs. “Your flyer never specifically stated anything about women or anyone else not being allowed to enter, so I really don’t see what you’re concerned about.”
“How about how you clearly don’t listen to the rules?” The mayor pointed to the dismantled box abandoned on the stage. “Besides, acts like yours would be far too dangerous for the audience size we’re expecting.”
“Trust me, that was only for today. I guess I was wrong to think you would be up for some real magic.” She shrugged. “Apologies if you were intimidated.”
The men grumbled in reply, echoing vague agreements on why her performance posed a threat to Spectaculore. Funny how they couldn’t keep their eyes off her when she entered the room—only to now regard her as a sort of demon sent to haunt them.
Nevertheless, the girl appeared unfazed. Not shivering in her dress even a little.
“You fools, this is my show!” Erasmus cried out.
“Well, this is my city, Rayne,” Mayor Eilin countered in a low growl. “I don’t care how different things are on the outside nowadays, but a show can’t go on without a venue.”
“Please. My investment and this show are the only things that could save your city from disappearing into ice altogether,” Erasmus scoffed. “Don’t forget that you need me a lot more than I need you. I have no problems finding business elsewhere.”
The mayor blanched. There could only be one reason why such a straitlaced place would open itself up to a spider like Erasmus Rayne. Daron had read enough on the proprietor to know that each time he and his circus preyed on a new location, they left their mark. The city of New Crown had been a mere labor town before the Conquering Circus blew through its gates and turned it into a show magician’s paradise. Now it seemed Erasmus had found his next target: Glorian, the lost city in the cursed Woods. The appeal of such a stage was undeniable. Though it was clear who between the two held all the cards in this game.
“Apologies, my dear, for dragging out this nonsense,” Erasmus said, fighting to get his most charming word in. “Merely a spat between old dogs. Suffice to say, I’m not investing anything into this madness if you’re not in it.”
When the girl didn’t giggle at his attentions this time, the proprietor gazed impatiently at the judges. “Why don’t we hear out every opinion amongst this esteemed group … ah, Demarco! How about you?”
Daron’s face flamed instantly when all eyes drew to him like spotlights. The girl’s, in particular, were beams of fire scorching his skin.
“Aside from myself, you out of everyone here can see the potential and worth of a true performer. Care to weigh in?”
Nope. Absolutely not.
He’d become so accustomed to shutting himself off in private since he’d stopped performing. If only Eva could see him now, she’d be cackling. The hard worry lines of his brow always amused her, and they carved around his head as he tried reviving the parts of the Daring Demarco in him that everyone else sought.
No, he did not take part in Erasmus’s avid enthusiasm, nor the mayor’s disapproval. No doubt she would bring in crowds and raise them to their feet, but she also favored chaos with her magic. Danger. One wrong move, and she’d probably hail the attention of the Patrons.
And yet, she was the most interesting person to walk through those doors. No one could deny that, least of all him.
“Your magic.” He finally lifted his gaze, delivering the same question they asked everyone who crossed the stage. “Born or acquired?”
Her gaze boldly met his for a lingering moment. “What do you think?”
Daron ignored the thump of his pulse, the smattering of laughs and ticking tongues around him. Whether it was doubt or denial, the answer was obvious. Not even the strongest acquired magician who’d crossed the stage performed with a fraction of what she’d displayed. A great trick instead of a good one.
The jeweled tassels of her skirt slowly clinked as she cocked her hip, waiting.
“You’ll have no problems filling the seats with this one, that’s for sure.” Daron finally nodded his assent. “But I can see why you’re all wary.”
“And why is that?”
When Daron looked up, sure enough, she was watching him. A sharp scowl paired with viper eyes, still studying him. Unable to properly pin him down, as she had all the others in the room, which gave him a small bit of satisfaction.
“Read the room, twenty-four,” he said, clasping his hands on the table. Mask on, voice cooled. “And there’s your answer.”
8
“Zarose, they really did not like you,” Aaros remarked as they walked down the steps of the Alastor Place. The hotel key ring Kallia twirled between her fingers halted with more aggression than necessary. Easily threatened men always acted like fools. From the older, stuffier top hats, the reaction was to be expected. But even the youngest of them had come off like a stiff sod who hadn’t seen daylight in years.
Demarco, they called him.
And Erasmus Rayne, the overeager ringleader of the circus.
Together, they made up the dubious force whose favor kept her in the competition, and she could not have asked for a more uncertain pair of supporters.
Especially Demarco, with his uneasy praise. Seemingly kind eyes, narrowed in doubt. He certainly didn’t act like a strong show magician, yet must’ve been highly regarded to be invited as a judge. So young and already in such an esteemed position.
Glowering, Kallia tightened her coat around her. “Who is he, anyway?”
“Daron Demarco?” Aaros supplied. “Some young, big-time stage magician, but I heard he stopped performing a few years back. Stopped using magic altogether.”
A shocked grimace sharpened her lips. “Why?”
“No clue. Hadn’t heard of him until today. Soltair news and gossip don’t usually circulate to these parts of the island.” Aaros popped up his coat collar at the next brush of wind. “A few magicians backstage were fawning about him. Apparently he’s no ordinary performer, his family runs the Patrons of Great. As in Keepers of the Gate, Patrons of Great.” His face lit up in wonder.
Kallia groaned inwardly. “Of course.”
The first time she’d heard about Zarose Gate was through her lessons with Sanja. Even if her tutor hadn’t been real, the facts were true. The history behind Zarose Gate had rooted through time, and grown into something of a legend. That magic came from the earth. The life it bred in the beautiful trees, plants, and flowers could not have been possible without a strange power from below. But when the magic tore open the earth, like a gate loosed open, a terrible flood of power unleashed.
While others grew mad, Erik Zarose grew powerful. A magician. One of the rare few affected so, to forever be revered as a Great when he alone closed the gate. Zarose Gate, as it was known today. A miracle remembered as the greatest feat in magician history, guarded by those he’d trained and trusted. A tradition passed down, from generation to generation.
“No wonder he retired so early,” Kallia grumbled. “If you have the right blood, why even work at all?”
“Have some respect, for Zarose sake,” Aaros said, grinning. “His aunt is prac
tically the iron fist of magicians. If you mess up, she’ll find out. No doubt from her dear nephew.”
As if she needed more obstacles. “I don’t give a damn who he’s related to. Besides, he liked me enough to get me through to the next stage.”
“You keep sending him dagger eyes like earlier, and it’ll be enough to send you right back.” He sighed. “But at least you won’t be forgotten.”
“Exactly. Attention is attention.” She gestured down the folds of her clasped cloak, hiding the showgirl outfit she wore beneath. “Clearly it worked.”
Demarco aside, there was no way the judges could’ve turned her away. They wanted a show, and that’s what she gave them.
Aaros reared his head back with a bemused, curious look. “All right, I have to know what your story is. The mystery is killing me. You’re not some rogue runaway from Casine’s, are you?”
Kallia nearly tripped, but righted herself before he noticed. He no doubt had been forming illusions of grandeur since the audition. What would he think if he knew she was no worldly traveler, no great name on the stage unless the one at a neighboring nightclub in the Woods counted?
She steadied her strides, voice even. “I got us a place in the competition, with food, lodging, and amenities included. That’s all that matters.”
If only Jack could see her, he’d swallow back every doubt he ever had.
For she was a contender, here to stay.
Here to win.
It had only ever been a daydream. Surely she would jerk awake at any moment and find herself back in the House. Yet somehow, she was still walking down an unpaved path with a stranger beside her, and a key to a new home.
The realization filled her with a bubbling giddiness, her insides like shaken champagne, nearly bursting with light. Unable to help herself, Kallia spun into her next step when Aaros wasn’t looking, composing herself the instant he did.
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