Maybe it depends on where you are.
Perhaps she had been right, after all.
Light flickered beyond his closed lids, a trickle of warmth and smoke accompanying it.
Daron’s eyes shot open. His lips parted at the fire raised where dying embers had been, a fresh set of logs burning before him.
No, no, no.
Magic trailed in fresh tendrils through the bones of his fingers. Fear spiked through him. He didn’t want to look at his palm, but it was impossible when the lines across his skin flared. Fire in his veins, magic in his blood where it hadn’t been in years.
Not since the night everything went wrong during his last performance on stage. The night his powers deserted him.
Until tonight.
For hours, Daron sat before the roaring fire without feeling its warmth. Until the light died in the hearth, as it faded from his palms.
ACT III
ENTER THE LOVERS:
THOSE ROSES ENTWINED AMONG TWISTED THORNS
The master watched the girl descend from the ceiling in a large birdcage forged from rose-gold bars and crystal tassels.
A new act, though not like his guests noticed the difference.
Hell, they couldn’t even tell a magician from an illusion cast by one.
Once the gilded cage had lowered to the ground, the masked girl within waltzed out. Short silver-white hair, with smiling pink lips and a petite frame. By morning, she’d dissolve back into nothing and emerge only when summoned.
If only all magic could be so easy.
The master had known things would grow worse in that cursed city, and nobody had heeded the warnings. The show was not the only thing that could go wrong the longer they remained behind its gates.
The fools were trapped. Like wild game too tempted by the bait. Once you spent enough time in a city like that, it was rarely likely to let you out. Starving beasts never indulged their prey with mercy. Not until they had their fill.
There was only so much time left before they dug their claws into her.
He could feel them, even from here. Beckoning him to come, to listen and follow. Each time he visited, their calls grew louder. Not screams. Whispers to lure, saying all the right words.
He couldn’t listen to them again. She’d gone to them, despite all she had here.
She’d made her choice, and now nothing could help her.
Not even him.
27
“What do you mean we can’t leave the city?”
Hostility burned among the gathered group at the Alastor Place. Daron almost declined joining the emergency summons to the theater that morning. When he awoke that morning, his throat grated like sandpaper. His mind throbbed, too weighed down from every glass he’d thrown back.
His mind was not so heavy anymore.
“We’d had enough of this. Everything’s been pure disaster from the start,” Robere declared, rising from his seat with a prim nod. “I’m not being paid nearly enough to entertain it for another night. So I packed up. And Eduar offered to join.”
Erasmus scoffed. “You both decided to take the coward’s exit and jump ship?”
“A sinking ship.”
“Call it what you will.” The proprietor folded his hands. “But alas, your little failed escape into the night did bring to our attention our very … odd situation.”
“Odd?” Judge Bouquet bellowed. “The gates have vanished. We can’t bloody leave the city.”
Daron focused on breathing evenly, trying to keep his head while everyone around him lost theirs. He hadn’t tried leaving, as the others had done. Once they heard of the vanished gate, everyone laughed. But each contestant and judge who had approached the wall since found nothing. No gate, no way out. If they tried scaling the walls, there was nothing but the Dire Woods to take them—and nobody wanted to test the mercy of that possibility. Others could enter and exit as they pleased, for carriages still regularly roamed down the streets to and from the entry path. However, the show’s players found only a cleanly paved wall. Their eyes alone, veiled with this madness.
The tension was palpable in the room, the reactions ranging from quiet alarm to violent pacing. The vastness of the Alastor Place had shrunken to a cage. And the birds within squawked loudly, nipping at every person’s last word as if fighting for the last seed in the feeder.
Surprisingly, Kallia remained quiet in her seat. Just as she had when he’d left his room earlier that morning. After receiving the urgent summons, it was hardly a shock when her door opened right after his. No Aaros in tow, for it was a closed meeting. What shocked him most were the bruise-like shadows under her eyes, the puffy redness of them marked with exhaustion.
“Zarose, what happened?”
Daron wished he could take it back the instant she bristled. “Rough performance night. What’s your excuse?”
The bags under his eyes took on even more weight as she grumpily pushed past him; her gait slow, measured. The magic she had exerted had taken a toll. And no matter how much Erasmus spent on miracle creams and ointments for his star, her back couldn’t have healed that quickly.
It could’ve been worse, the proprietor had remarked all night, drunkenly patting Daron’s shoulder in gratitude. Drink up, you saved the show!
He swallowed painfully, the knot in his throat having tripled in size since last night. Before he knew it, he was at Kallia’s side, reaching for her.
“I don’t need help.” She swatted him away, tossing back her hair. “I’m fine on my own.”
Her grimace said otherwise. When it was clear she couldn’t shake him off, she gave a resigned huff, ignoring him as he matched her stubborn pace. If she paused to rest, he paused, his hand inches from her back. They walked side by side down the hall, down the stairs, and to the Alastor Place without care for the whispers at their backs.
Thankfully silent all the way, until she abruptly parted ways with him as they entered the show hall. Contestants on one side, judges at the other. The harsh reminder jolted him.
From his seat, Daron watched her brow furrow so deeply, lost in thought. He was grateful she didn’t return his stare, for it took much longer than he wished to admit to finally look away.
“Rayne,” Mayor Eilin spoke delicately. He appeared to be the calmest in the theater. Disturbingly so. “What in Zarose name did you do?”
“Nothing!” the other man insisted. “I like having tricks up my sleeve but this was not one of them.”
Daron was inclined to believe him. If he’d had a hand in this, he would’ve acted far more coy and obnoxious about his part. His astonishment, while perversely amused, was genuine. “If we should be pointing fingers at anyone, Eilin, it should be you.”
“Me?”
“It’s your city walling us in. A little warning would’ve been nice.”
“Nothing like this has ever happened before,” Mayor Eilin sputtered. “Not until you arrived. No, it was that damn contract, wasn’t it? You made us all sign it, and now look what’s happened. What in the world did you put in it?”
“The only bit of magic infused in that contract is a locator,” Erasmus reassured. “If you run from what you signed up for, it’s my right to be able to find you. Easily.”
Something sinister lingered on that last note.
“Then how do you explain the other magicians who’ve gone missing?” demanded Judge Silu. “And every other accident that’s happened since?”
“Like I would ever sabotage my own show. That’s just desperate.” Scalding offense dripped from the proprietor’s scoff. “But those cads are still in town, somewhere. I did think it rather odd when their locations remained in Glorian, but now I suppose it makes sense all things considered.”
“Nothing about this makes a lick of sense.” Mayor Eilin threw his hands up. “I don’t see how you can be so cavalier about this.”
“Would you rather I mope and hiss like the rest of you? Because that’s productive.” He smoothed back his gelled hair, look
ing smug when no one responded. “Honestly, it’s not as if we’re dead or in imminent danger, we’re simply … stuck. Which is convenient, for we’ve got a show to put on.”
“You can’t be serious.” That left the mayor’s jaw hanging. “This all ends now.”
“Fine, try it. But you’ll be met with disappointed audience members. In your case, you’ll have a whole city of them to deal with.”
“Citywide disappointment,” the mayor deadpanned. “How will I ever recover?”
“How about citywide ruin, will that change your tune?”
Mayor Eilin stopped short. “It’s already ruined. This whole thing is completely beyond us, Rayne. It’s a matter for the Patrons, that’s the level we’re approaching.”
For once, no one glanced Daron’s way. The relief was short-lived at the rise of Erasmus’s knowing smile. “Then why haven’t you corresponded with them yet? Last night—hell, the instant you heard the news this morning—why didn’t you rush straight to your desk and start scribbling out a cry for help?”
The blood drained from the mayor’s face, little by little.
“Because you know,” Erasmus drawled on, “the moment this ends, so does everything else.”
“What do you suggest we do, then?”
“What this city does best: keep itself under wraps. Raise no sign for alarm, return once the dust has settled,” the proprietor advised, dancing his fingertips against each other. “No Patrons, no press. At least, not until we’ve got a better handle on things. That way, when we’ve got our bearings, we’ll have the world lining up at the gates, waiting.”
Daron couldn’t have been more relieved this man was not a magician, for he would make a dangerous one. It was almost frightening, how he worked with nothing more than his cool, slippery nature and still enchanted a room. Moments ago the mayor looked close to knifing him, but now, his brow creased pensively down at the empty stage beneath him. “This is … just not how I thought any of this would play out.”
“That’s the best thing about show business. Nothing ever goes as planned. But with everyone’s cooperation, we can guide this ship back on course. Correct?”
He peered out at the others with his bright snakelike eyes, and in the end, the mayor simply nodded. Decided.
Unease pricked at Daron. Wrong, this all felt so wrong.
“Demarco?”
Erasmus had stopped the mayor from pulling the trigger, but he wasn’t the only one in the room with access to the gun. If only they knew he didn’t want the Patrons in Glorian any more than they did. The thought of Aunt Cata breaking down the doors of the Alastor Place, asking every question imaginable until she pieced it all together, speared nausea into his gut.
Daron nodded.
Relief swept the entire room.
“That’s a good chap. I’m glad we all have an understanding.” Erasmus clasped his hands with vigor, pacing down the stage. “We’ll continue on. Though, with a few changes in light of our current limitations and last night’s interesting turn of events…” He tossed a sympathetic smile to Daron and Kallia. “We’ll proceed to the mentor round.”
Cold shot down Daron’s spine. He thought he’d be long gone before this part of the game.
The mere idea of him on stage again.
Performing magic. Teaching it.
He would be exposed before he even stepped into the spotlight.
The image took root in his mind, tormenting him. He looked warily around to see if anyone else shared in his discomfort. Most of the judges were exchanging subtle looks with the contestants sitting in the rows across from them.
Alliances, already forged.
Figures. Daron’s fist tightened over his knee. Just like that, he was back in his amateur days, an unpolished magician left to the wolves. He’d had Eva, of course, but he’d been new to the wild game of show business. He’d been branded an outsider as soon as he pulled up a chair at the judges’ table, and they would only shun him more if they knew.
Glorian was having some sort of effect on him. His magic, once gone, was slowly returning. Or so he thought. His power felt nothing like it had before, just an energy he couldn’t control after having gone for so long without.
He almost preferred having no magic at all.
Mayor Eilin and Erasmus began listing off pairings, each one hitting him with dread. He knew, even before they’d started, which magician he’d be matched with.
“Excuse me,” Daron interjected, half-rising from his seat. “I don’t think I—”
“Patience. You’re next.” Erasmus assessed the list with a sound of delight. “You’ll, of course, be working with Kallia.”
A couple of the men around him chuckled, almost with pity.
Finally, Kallia spoke, a bitter edge to her voice. “What do you mean, ‘of course’?”
“Can’t you just see it?” Erasmus wistfully clutched at his heart. “The hero and the damsel, joining forces—not that you’re a damsel, darling. But the crowd will simply eat it up. And we need them hungry again once we’re back on stage.”
“Exactly.” The mayor smirked. “No need to shy away from the spotlight now.”
Kallia’s eyes slitted, daggers sliding from their sheaths. Ready to stab.
The same resignation weighed Daron back into his seat. After last night, their names would always be thrown together. The ever-watching audience loved a good story, and of course, Erasmus would capitalize on it.
Daron ran a hand over his face as the last names were called. Through his fingers, he caught a glimpse of Kallia—already rising to leave like the others, only they had their new mentors in tow. She turned without gracing him with a look, and something twinged inside him.
Of course she didn’t want to be paired with him. He wouldn’t want to be paired with him. She would probably argue to forgo a mentor altogether, having no patience for somebody so overly apologetic, who criticized without being asked, who’d venture all the way to her door only to—
“Naturally you’d be trying to hide in plain sight.”
Daron jerked in his seat, lowering his hands to find Kallia standing beside him. She wore a long, dark green coat buttoned at her waist, and tan pants tucked into boots. Today, her hair was half-pulled up by a loose tie. Usually, she kept her hair free and over her shoulders.
He hated how he suddenly knew that.
“Excuse me?” He straightened, forcing a cool expression over his face.
If Kallia thought he was flustered, she was doing a good job of holding her tongue about it. “If you wanted to hide from me, you could’ve at least run for the doors or even the dusty corners. I hate getting my clothes dirty.”
A lie. Daron recalled her attire dusted with dirt not too long ago in the throes of the theater renovations. She had wanted to help. He hated how he suddenly knew that, too. “Noted.”
“Good. Now, come on. Pick up your feet,” Kallia said, already half-turning. “Or are you going to sit there all day?”
No trace of disappointment in her voice. None that he could detect, at least. “Don’t you … don’t you want to change partners?”
“It seems I’m stuck with you.” She gestured around, slightly bemused. “How could everyone not be dying to work with me, right?”
It wasn’t even ego, but honesty. Kallia was clearly the crowd favorite everyone was betting on. Except for Mayor Eilin and the other judges. For them, the game had stopped revolving around winning so much as beating Kallia, a force far scarier to them than being trapped in a city. Someone powerful, unstoppable, and nothing at all like them.
“If I didn’t know better, it would seem you were the one looking to switch,” she said, shifting her focus to her fingernails. “Am I really that impossible to be around?”
“No.” Yes. No. He was unsure what to say. How to convince her what a mistake it would be to pair them together.
If anyone could see through him, it would be her.
Her lips dipped into a frown. “I know this throws
the most awful wrench in your attempts to avoid me, but—”
“Look, I never said—”
“Shut up, Demarco.” Kallia raised a brow, waiting until she was sure he was going to listen. The fire in her eyes, both certain and uncertain in equal measure.
“Whatever problems you have with me, they’re nothing compared to what bothers the others. They always find something to say about how I act, how I dress, how I go about my day.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care if you think I’m too difficult or too much. In all honesty, I have a feeling we’d work fairly well together.”
“Why?”
“Among the top hats, you’re the only one I can tolerate. And deep down, I think you tolerate me, too. When you’re not too busy running from me like I’m the plague.”
She thought he couldn’t stand her. He’d certainly imagined she felt the same of him, back when only suspicion towered between them. But somehow, both mountains had flipped. He couldn’t even define where it left them, only knew that something hot and tense coiled in his chest every time she was near, telling him he could not work with her.
“And I never got the chance to thank you.”
Kallia spoke so quietly, Daron wasn’t even sure it had come from her. Soft words from a sharp, red mouth, the combination derailed him. “For?”
“Last night, on the stage.”
She didn’t face him as she said it, not out of embarrassment. As if no one had ever done such a thing for her, which he couldn’t fathom. “Kallia,” he murmured. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“You didn’t have to help me, either.”
“Of course I did,” he countered, immediately irritated at himself for owning that power, like it had been his intent. His choice. “It was nothing.”
“Don’t go all modest on me, it was something. And that’s why I have to at least try.” Something akin to longing lifted her voice as she cast a sad gaze to the stage. “I can give you a win. But I need a mentor, or else they won’t let me perform. Those are the rules.”
Where Dreams Descend Page 25