Where Dreams Descend

by Janella Angeles

  “I’m not offering anything. But if you win, your talents could bring you all the possibilities in the world. A mansion by the sea—the sea, itself, even.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” His compliments were not the usual type she received; they were statements. Facts. He spoke in a way that made everything seem possible. Because he genuinely believed it. “No one can own the sea.”

  “I’m sure you’d find a way.”

  The way he said it made her almost believe it.

  He was good at this. Too good. She couldn’t stop herself from sinking into the pictures he painted of the world. How wonderful it must’ve been, to come into this life with the searing blaze of choice. To practice and learn magic however you wished. To go wherever your feet could take you.

  It was only too easy to imagine how such a life might’ve changed her.

  To have had the glory of choice over the promise of power.

  “Careful.” Kallia’s lips formed a bemused line. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

  “What can I say, getting to know a person can be a lot like eating bread,” he said. “You have to really butter it up for it to—”

  Kallia thwacked him in the chest, which rumbled with a rare show of laughter.

  Idiot.

  As they crossed over to the next sidewalk together, she took his arm once more.

  30

  Without the show, the people’s attentions shifted all too easily to the dark purple circus tents. They arrived without warning, dotting the plain streets of Glorian like scattered jewels. A few children dared to poke at one, and swore an animal growled from within. Others whispered that they heard the sharpening of knives, the distinct hissing of snakes. Still, passersby couldn’t help but linger near them.

  “The Conquering Circus officially opens to Glorian tonight. About time, too,” Kallia had informed him earlier as they neared the Prima. For blocks, they’d passed nothing but curious spectators hovering near the tents. “Did you ever come across them in your travels?”

  “Not really. I’d heard of them, but we rarely crossed paths on the circuit. I was always onstage, they were—”

  “Outside. For the general public.” She snorted. “Snob.”

  “That’s just the way things were.” He gave a rueful grin. “And that’s all I’m going to say on that.”

  “You were the one who brought up your stage days, not me,” she countered, squeezing his arm. “Besides, it couldn’t have been all bad.”

  No way was he taking the bait. “No. Questions.”

  Daron was sure her rule would’ve posed a huge barrier between them, but unsurprisingly, it became more like a game. A challenge. If anything, he discovered more about Kallia from the questions she wouldn’t answer.

  Where did you live before this?

  Who taught you magic?

  Did you work anywhere previously?

  She had a past. That was easy enough to parse. She moved through each day like it was one more mile away from somewhere else. But he never pushed, and neither did she. Details might slip here and there, but his old life rarely came up. And he was grateful. Without magic, those glory days were only days. He’d made peace with it a long time ago, until Glorian. Until magic had trickled back into his system.

  Yet he no longer felt that power from the night of the second performance, and didn’t dare try tapping into it again. He didn’t know how, so unused to power all of a sudden. Unsure how to wield it.

  If this truly was the magic Eva spoke of, the uncertainty of it was torturous alone. Each day with Kallia, that same torture rose, fearing she’d soon figure it out.

  “Fine, remain mysterious.” Kallia casually peered down at her fingernails. “Back to the circus … if you’re not busy tonight, would you like to meet for the grand opening?”

  His insides clenched instantly. He’d always asked her to meet him. Never the other way around. “What—why?”

  Kallia’s face didn’t so much fall as crinkle in vicious irritation.

  “No, no, no,” he said quickly. “Sorry, I-I didn’t realize you’d want to meet outside of … this.”

  This.

  Mentorship, alliance. Whatever it was. He didn’t know the name of it anymore.

  “I know. Hard to believe when I’ve already filled my Demarco quota for the day.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, you don’t have to come. I just thought you wouldn’t want to miss—”

  “I’ll go,” he cut in, “Do you want to leave the Prima together?” His heart beat so loudly in his ears, it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it.

  A grin slowly caught like fire across her lips. “No, you’re going to meet me there.” She waved her fingers before turning toward the hotel doors without him. “You’ll know where to find me.”

  Her words stayed with him until nightfall.

  Which was how he found himself exiting the Prima—in a freshly laundered coat, his hair combed back—with the stream of hotel guests taking to the streets. The sidewalk lamps flickered, aided by the glossy silvered-fire torches interspersed between tents.

  Everyone beside him was draped in thin fancy coats to those in patchy jackets and fingerless gloves. The night was brisk, but no longer frigid. As if the shared, bubbling excitement had warmed them and the sky above.

  Daron looked up at the night, freckled with stars and ribbons of mist. He inhaled, catching the sweet scents wafting over from stands selling caramel-spiced popcorn and hot butterscotch rum.

  It was warm enough that he no longer shivered with each step, but a jitteriness ruled his movements as he craned his neck over the heads surrounding him.

  You’ll know where to find me.

  “Oy, judge. You lost?”

  Daron turned. Aaros, leaning against the tent nearest to him, waggling his brows. “Or are you looking for somebody?”

  Jaw clenched, Daron stared straight ahead. “Nope, I’m lost.”

  “Liar.” He inspected his cuffed sleeve. “Kallia told me you’d be snooping around.”

  That flicked at Daron’s temper. “Hold on, she invited me.”

  “You won’t find her around here.”

  “Then where?”

  “Just watch.” The assistant supplied a sage smile, and waited a beat longer before abruptly knocking over the torch between the two tents beside them.

  The crowd screamed and edged back as the fire met the fabric, consuming the tent from top to bottom. The flames reached the next tent, spreading until one by one, all of them were burning.

  Daron cursed and moved to pull Aaros back, but the assistant stopped him with a calm hand. The air around them rapidly filled with smoke so thick, Daron could hardly see. Shrieks pierced the air—but no more than a blink later, the smoke cleared.

  Silvery mist snaked around their ankles in a cold, frosty kiss. It rose around the burning tents before vanishing like a curtain drawn, nothing scorched or smoking.

  In the tents’ places stood burnished, dark purple platforms, bearing each member of the Conquering Circus.

  Drums started a wild beat at their appearance, and the streetwide panic from earlier dissolved into wondrous applause. Surprised laughter burst from the spectators, staring up in breathless amazement as the Conquering Circus held court from their stages. Girls in sleek, gold leotards posed in impossible angles, seamlessly stretching from one position to the next. One striking woman in nothing but a short-sleeved, high-waisted outfit stood proudly, flaunting glimmering tattoos that moved across her body at the snap of her fingers. Another juggled knives high in the air, letting them fall in a perfect ring around her. Others swam, trapped in wide, clear tanks. They wore gem-bright dresses that billowed and swayed against the water. The audience gasped, in fear of them drowning, but the ladies reassured them with the graceful waves they delivered behind the glass.

  He held his breath alongside everyone packed in the street, witnessing each Conqueror perform a taste of their talents from where they stood, capturing everyone easily.
/>   “If you think this is amazing.” Aaros laughed, nudging him by the elbow.

  At the sudden burst of awe, Daron turned to the center platform, where a brush of magenta fire in the shape of a rose plumed overhead. Drawing closer to the stage, he caught sight of long, ruby hair—Canary, he remembered—in a leathery ringmaster’s getup wielding a lit torch like a baton. And beside her, a familiar cascade of dark hair.

  Kallia.

  She wore an outfit similar to her audition getup. Only this time, the glittery dress was sleek and black, jewels embedded along the bodice like the dark heart of a spider’s web. Her scarlet lips parted in a hoot as Canary poised the torch before her, blowing out another fierce wave of fire. The audience edged back with delighted gasps and claps, transfixed as Kallia reached out to still the fire. With a snap, the fire turned stormy gray. As she curled her fingers, its shape rounded into a cloud, raining sparks over eager hands reaching to touch.

  From there, she transformed the fire into an endless reel of marvels: a green bottle of champagne popping open, a dark purple horse galloping into the distance, a grand golden chandelier dangling with fiery jewels. Onlookers began shouting requests—a deck of cards, a top hat, a water fountain—and she took on each challenge. Effortlessly.

  “You’ve got a little bit of drool over there, judge.”

  “Shut up.” He shoved Aaros in the shoulder, slowly clapping after Kallia’s last trick. She bowed before giving the floor over entirely to Canary, who bent her head under the wave of applause.

  “Welcome, conquests, to the real show you’ve all been waiting for!” she shouted over the lively beat of the drums. “However, before we allow you entry into our menagerie of madness, we have one rule: respect the Conquerors, and we’ll all have ourselves a good time.” Her warm grin turned sharp as a nail. “However, if you touch, grab, hurt, offend, or commit any other despicable act against us or another unwilling person while in our domain, then you deserve every awful misfortune that awaits you. One such misfortune, for example, is our very good friend, Aya.”

  A deep roar sawed through the silence. Every head shifted to the platform across from Canary’s, boasting an enormous black-haired, growling lion who only calmed beneath the palm of the trainer standing coolly behind.

  “So, any foolish beast who even dares to bite without asking, beware. Aya never says no to fresh meat.” Canary cracked a laugh, laced with an undeniable threat that had everyone nodding immediately. Half in excitement, half in fear.

  At the raise of her hands, the drums started up again, accompanied by trumpets and pipes breathing life into the night. “Without further ado, on with the show!”

  Right on cue, light burst high into the sky. It crackled and sparked before exploding into spirals of colors. Again and again, lights shot from Canary’s stage, until it looked as though all the stars had taken on different shades and faces, falling like wishes granted.

  All heads tipped back and gaped in pure delight. From the way even Aaros looked up, Daron was certain the people of Glorian had never seen so much color in all their lives. In the sky, in their streets, surrounding them entirely in the most impossible ways.

  As each burst skyrocketed, Daron watched Kallia standing behind Canary. Her hands twisted outward, fingers beckoning at the colors to soar. She drew no attention to herself, her movements so subtle, one would have to tear their gaze from the sky to even notice the magic wasn’t appearing out of thin air.

  Daron noticed.

  He noticed the strain in her jaw, and the smile that stayed. The slight quiver of her fingers, and the strength of their hold. He noticed the cheers rising louder around him, the spectacle no doubt growing more fantastical by the second, but he was fixed on her alone, unable to bring himself to look back to the sky.

  * * *

  Kallia stumbled down the stage, laughing all the way. Exhilarating performances always exhausted her until everything seemed a little funny. The rickety squeaks of the stairs, how high her heels were, how off-balance she was.

  “Careful there, prima donna.”

  At the last step, Canary all but broke her almost-fall, propping them both up. “You need a hand back to the hotel?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Kallia steadied as the crowd’s maddening applause faded behind them. “Just need a second and I’ll be back on my feet soon enough.”

  Canary righted her and steered them both toward the only tent stationed between two of the backmost platforms. “Good. Because Conquerors don’t sleep on the first night.”

  “Are you saying I’m a Conqueror?”

  “Glad you stuck around, now, aren’t you?”

  Neither of them had spoken about that night of the second act. Kallia had seen them plenty of times since then to practice for tonight’s opening and make well on her promise to the Conquerors. No questions asked, no explanations necessary. As if they knew it was a night worth moving on from. Kallia couldn’t be more grateful when Canary tossed back her red hair now, as if forgetting she’d even said a word about it. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Kallia most certainly would. It was the most herself she’d felt in ages, the adrenaline running through her veins. Her heart wildly beating from the high of a spectacular set. She entered the tent with her chin raised high, steps surer—taken aback by the round of hoots that met her. Camilla, who’d been sharpening her green-edged knives, clinked them loudly together. Juno, sending them a salute as she bent toward the vanity. The Starling twins, slouching on a large, jewel-orange couch, immediately perked up as Canary and Kallia passed through, tossing two small packs in their direction.

  Canary caught them without turning. “Thanks, Cass.”

  “What’s this?” Kallia began untying the string that clasped the velvet pouch closed.

  “Essentials, to keep your energy up,” the acrobat stated blithely. “Chocolate bombs, cherry-rum candies, and sugared ginger. We collect sweets from each town we pass through.”

  “They’ve got buckets of it hidden under their beds, it’s disgusting,” Canary whispered, before a cherry-rum candy smacked against her temple from across the room. The other Conquerors laughed as the ringmaster picked up the fallen candy and triumphantly crunched it between her teeth.

  Kallia popped a sugared ginger in her mouth, the spiciness invigorating. A warmth rushed through her that had nothing to do with magic. It was everyone around her. It was smiling and relaxing and laughing so much, her teeth hurt. Her eyes watered. Her throat rasped until she could hardly catch her breath when Juno impersonated Erasmus’s possible over-the-top reactions at not being the one to deliver the circus’s welcome speech.

  “Do someone else,” the Starling twins crowed. “Try the mayor!”

  “That’s easy.” Juno’s tattoos shifted into a grumpy rouge against her face as she raised a stern finger. “Ah Kallia, bane of my existence. I don’t know much about what’s going on, so obviously that means I need to yell at you for no reason.”

  Everyone howled. Kallia almost choked on her candy from laughing so hard. She was about halfway through the small bag, feeling much more revived, when a small bell dinged outside the tent.

  “Is it next shift already?” The knife-thrower began reaching for her weapons until Aaros suddenly popped his head through the entry flap, withdrawing in an instant.

  “Shit, sorry, I didn’t—I saw nothing!”

  “Keep poking in here unannounced, and we’ll make sure of it,” Canary called out.

  “Sorry about him.” Kallia shrugged, rising from the couch. “We still need to work on personal boundaries.”

  “I heard that,” he grumbled from the other side. “May we come in?”

  At the ladies’ assent, Aaros waltzed in to no fanfare. But when Demarco entered, Kallia immediately swallowed the lump of chocolate she’d been chewing. His presence shouldn’t have startled her—she’d invited him to meet her, for Zarose sake. Still, it was strange seeing him here. She knew him against the backdrop of the Alastor Place and the s
treets of Glorian, but not in the tight, cozy confines of the Conquerors’ tent. Each step he took inside, the room seemed to shrink around her.

  The Starling twins both blushed. Juno hmphed, a bit too smugly. And Canary bent low in a mocking, regal bow. “Your Highness. Welcome to our humble abode.”

  Demarco threw a dead-eyed stare of blame at Kallia.

  “Are you truly a Patron of Great?” one of the Starling sisters blurted, as the other exclaimed, “You’re the Daring Demarco!” She, out of all of them, regarded him with the most awe, and Kallia almost laughed at his confused expression.

  “No, I’m not. And yes, I used to be.” He spared them a tight smile before burying his hands inside his pockets. “You can just call me Demarco, though.”

  “What do you call him, Kallia?” Juno whispered at her ear teasingly, and Canary snorted. Unamused, Kallia elbowed both of them as she strode forward.

  “All right, two men in a women’s dressing tent is two men too many.” She took both of their arms, and saluted the Conquerors on her way out. “Ladies—thanks for the night. Cheers to many more.”

  “To many, many more!” the others howled back. They continued laughing over another shared joke too muffled for Kallia’s ears as they strode out of earshot.

  “Popular among wolves?” Demarco said. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Kallia shook her head with a smile as they stepped into the cool night air. With a shriek of delight, Aaros latched onto her hand still cradling the Starlings’ pouch. “Oh Zarose, is this candy?”

  “Mine.” She tugged back.

  “If you give it to me, I promise I’ll leave you two alone for the night.”

  “But I didn’t ask—”

  Aaros snatched the bag and gleefully ducked into the crowd.

  They spent a solid moment watching him disappear, before finally turning to each other with a laugh. “Is he always like that?”

  “Unfortunately.” Goose bumps spiked over her skin. When she rubbed at her arms, he began unbuttoning his coat. She wrinkled her nose as he draped it over her shoulders unannounced. “What’s this?”