“How should I know?”
Aaros and Canary shared a look. They’d been sharing a lot of those anytime Demarco was mentioned. They, and the rest of Glorian. Kallia was sure she could trust them, but there was something about keeping this only for her, and him.
It made everything uncertain feel a little safer.
“Fine. Be coy.” Canary munched on another rebellious handful of popcorn. “And be smart. These sorts of things don’t typically survive beyond the stage.”
Kallia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but Aaros interjected first. “Oh great, you’ve just doomed it.”
“What? I’m being honest,” the flame-eater said, licking her fingers. “Everything is heightened during a show. Like a dream. You can’t really be sure if what you’re feeling is real. It’s what I tell all the Conquerors if they find someone on one of our stops. Warnings prevent the heartbreak, at least a little.”
“You must make for a bleak, blunt confidant, canary bird.”
“Careful, pretty boy.” She growled. “I carry matches with me everywhere.”
“I will not be overcharged from damages because of you two.” Kallia crossed her arms imperiously. “Out.”
“Yes, Mother.” Aaros’s head hung as he ambled out of the dressing area with Canary crunching and following behind.
Alone at last, she spared a quick glance at herself in the trifold mirrors, at how the silky red material wrapped around her body like a second skin, the long skirt cut artfully by two high slits that gave her legs the mobility she needed. The entire dress was made of sleek red, but underneath, black velvet. The open neckline draped off her shoulders, leaving room for jewelry to drip down her neck if she wanted.
Usually putting on a fabulous gown brightened her entire aura. Any bold costume she wore gifted her with a boldness in return. But Canary’s words rang in the back of her head, chipping away at her.
Truth was, it was hard to believe something like this could last. Everything was still so new. So good.
And Zarose, she wanted to keep it that way.
A blink later, the lights began to dim. Shivering, Kallia rubbed her worn eyes. They were playing tricks on her. She’d woken up tired more days than she could count. The price of practice and performance.
As much as she’d love to waste the day away with Demarco, she’d drop cold on her feet if she didn’t sneak in a few more hours of rest.
An amused smile tugged at her lips. She wondered what he’d think of the dress when she walked down that grand staircase of the ballroom. How he’d go still. How his jaw would drop.
Stunning.
Beautiful.
Otherworldly.
Kallia grinned at the praise wrapping around her, before finally turning away. A chill brushed over her as she descended off the carpeted pedestal, her back to her reflection—when the feel of cold fingers wrapped around her arm.
Only when she looked down, there was nothing.
No one near her, at all.
She forced herself to still. In the corner of her vision, she detected movement, a presence before it grew more solid. A chest at her back, when there was nothing behind her. The trail of fingers down to her elbow, the breath at her ear.
It took her longer than she was proud of to finally turn.
In the reflection, Jack stood right behind her, both hands at her shoulders. The pressure of his touch so real, existing only in the mirror. “Look at you…” There was a haunted quality to his voice. As if he didn’t like what he saw, but couldn’t look away. “Exhausted.”
She swallowed back a scream. It was the first time he’d visited her in daylight, in public. Anyone could walk in, and she feared what would happen. What they would see, what he would do.
But despite his confidence, he’d come through a mirror.
Only an illusion.
Illusions, she could banish.
Kallia no longer avoided his gaze in her reflection—she met it head-on. A new fire edged around her eyes. After all, his touch was real only within the frame and a deception outside of it. His words floated back to her, the trick of illusions. They were made more real by every emotion latched onto it. Fear, desire, anger, anything, like water and sunlight to a flower. And with the unpredictability of a mirror, she had to do more than deprive.
Kallia cleared her mind, meditating the way she did before a show.
No more.
No more fear, no more anger.
No more of the yearning that lingered, regardless.
After everything, that emotion shocked her most of all. She wanted it gone.
Sweat ran down her face as her eyes blinked open, snapping her back into the room. Her ears thundered, head throbbing sharply from the effort. Magic never came easy. Even if she could fool hundreds in the audience to think it effortless, it was difficult. That was the only way she knew it was working.
Jack steadied her. “You can’t force me out of here.”
Kallia growled out a pant. “Watch me.”
“Don’t squander your energy when you’re already running on so little, firecrown. Not even I’m worth it.” He glanced toward the exit, the still curtains leading out. “Where’s your magician to save you?”
Give nothing away.
“You can’t hide it, Kallia. From everyone else, from me.” His voice dropped lower than a whisper, strained. “It could never work between you two.”
The silence within her burned, until she could no longer contain it. “Because he’s not you?”
“Because he has no power.”
He said it like he’d dropped an explosive in the room. One that would shake her world and destroy everything within it. Kallia lifted her chin higher. “I know.”
His brow tensed, he hadn’t expected that. “You know everything he’s done? What he’s been—”
“I know.” Her nostrils flared. “And I don’t care.”
That shadow of a mask he so often wore cracked for barely a second before it smoothed over once more. “Then you’re a fool,” he muttered. “If you perform with him, hell, if you even go to the ball, terrible things will happen.”
It sounded suspiciously like a promise.
Her focus cleared on a deep breath. “You’re not here,” she intoned, hollow but strong. “You’re not here, you’re not here, you’re not here…”
“Remember what I said about mirrors, firecrown?”
Shut up. She did not want him to teach her. She did not want his lessons or his tricks any longer.
“It’s much harder to stop what you see in the mirror when it’s like a world unto itself, a world so much like yours.”
“You’re not here.” Kallia began sweating once more, working through the ringing against her temple. “You’re not here.”
“Focus harder. Concentrate. You can try cutting me off all you’d like, but when do you stop believing it’s real?” he asked, that familiar challenge. Always pushing. “How can you honestly look into that mirror and not realize—”
Crack.
A split ran across the surfaces. It cut over her reflected body in a clean, thin line, the flaw providing a soothing reminder. The rest of the glass, showing her alone across all three mirrors.
“Quick thinking, Kallia.”
The whisper of wind danced across her shoulders, by her ear. She didn’t dare turn around, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
“But be prepared to be surprised, tomorrow. If you don’t heed any of my warnings, heed that one at least.”
Before she could spit a curse his way, the air around her loosened, as if freed from a poison. The whisper, the touch at her back—gone.
In the mirror, she found herself alone in the center, broken by the crack in the surface that spanned across her body.
When the master of the house slammed his palm against the wall, the House shuddered.
There was no way they would leave her be tomorrow. Not in that house, at night, at a party so much like the ones they used to throw.
&nbs
p; It made him sick, the way history circled itself. The farther he thought he’d gone, the closer he was.
Inevitable.
That’s what Sire always told him, with the way he ran the city of mortals. How he ran this House by day, and the club at night.
Memories.
His specialty, and his mercy.
His mistake. No matter how much he took, it always came back, a story far too ugly to be retold and remembered. One he thought could die if no one spoke of it again.
He was wrong.
And she was in trouble.
The master clenched his fist against the wall, running his thumb against the black brass over his fingers. Perhaps it was always meant to happen—this unavoidable game, one that began long before she stepped into that damned city. It would come alive like a risen hell and swallow her whole, back in a cage without even the grace of a lock and key. Only bars.
He couldn’t bear the thought.
Beyond his fear, he feared for her more.
That night, the candles of the House went dark. He laid to rest his loyal illusions, destroyed the path that led to his club as best as he could. There was no longer a need for it. No need for guests or their business or secrets. No more masks, no more hiding.
No more.
The master said his good-byes to the kingdom he’d built, and prepared to return to the one he’d once served.
47
The Alastor Place was a force of splendor against the night. No longer the shadowy towering structure of ruin Daron remembered upon first seeing it. No longer the stranger on the street you wanted nothing to do with, but the one across the room who intrigued you.
The ornate exterior held its same dark hold against the dusky sky, but inside, it burst with light. Life and laughter bubbled from the main entrance like champagne fizzing into sparkling flutes. Not unlike the audiences that flowed through the building before, but Janette had purposefully ordered the show hall to remain locked. Tomorrow, the last performance would begin.
Tonight was all about celebration.
Of what, Daron didn’t know anymore. All the accidents culminating into this, all the participants missing an event meant for them, only added to the mounting wrongness of tonight.
At the first set of doors, a servant stopped him to pin a bright rosebud on his lapel, a token every attendee bore. Daron joined the sea of red roses, just as floored as those exploring the Alastor Place for the first time, all gaping mouths and eyes tilted up to devour every inch of lushly painted ceiling. Small chandeliers hung like sparkling bushes of crystal flowers, gradually increasing in size down the trail to the opened double doors leading into the Court of Mirrors.
Immediately, two bodies flanked him.
“Demarco, you’re looking sharp.” Erasmus patted him swiftly across the shoulder while they descended the grand staircase. “Not escorting anyone tonight, are you?”
Figures he would aim straight for that. “Didn’t realize I needed to.”
“Of course not,” Lottie chimed in. “We both came alone, but do you think either of us is leaving the same?” Once they reached the bottom, she straightened the rose latched to her ex-husband’s breast pocket before laying a hand on his chest. If Daron didn’t feel like he belonged in this conversation before, he definitely didn’t feel so now.
“Where’s my star magician?” The proprietor eagerly lifted a flute off a passing tray. “I thought surely she would’ve arrived with you.”
A knowingness laced his tone that prickled at Daron. He had nothing to hide with Kallia. In times like this, though, he was relieved that as much as people assumed, they controlled the truth. At least it was theirs.
“I’m her mentor,” Daron scoffed. “Not her keeper.”
“Fine, fine. Absolutely nothing is going on with you two down in the Ranza Estate.” Erasmus winked. “So dedicated, practicing at every free moment. Hope you’re ready to dazzle us with a spectacular act when the time comes.”
They’d been practicing far more than any other pair, from what Daron could gather. But what they had up their sleeves couldn’t compare to what he had with Kallia. A true partnership. The act was hers, but the stage would be theirs.
But after that, what then?
“We’re ready, don’t you worry.”
Erasmus let out a noise of delight as he gulped down the last of his champagne. Lottie’s remained untouched, her fingernails tapping slowly against its shape. “Speak of the devils.”
The atmosphere of the room shifted in a blink. Heads tilting up and the chatter softening into hushed murmurs. A sudden stop, to which Daron looked up.
She stood at the top of the grand stairs, Aaros and the Conquering Circus at her side in all their finery. An absolute explosion of color, the lot of them. Like the bursts she sent into the sky when the circus first opened, spiraling across a dark canvas.
For once, Kallia didn’t even seem to notice the attention. Beaming, she took in the whole of the party the way a sailor looks at the sea—a wistful expression, edged with a quiet excitement of coming home to something familiar. Even she wasn’t impartial to the grandeur, nudging Aaros to look at the rows of chandeliers lining the ceiling, pointing at the vases of blooming flowers that reigned at every corner.
Their eyes met across the crowd. There was no change in her expression, except the slightest curve of a smile. Not once did her gaze leave his as she gave a brief farewell nod to her escorts before descending the steps in a slow saunter. Wordlessly, he excused himself from Lottie and Erasmus to meet her halfway, his focus thrown by every step she took, mouth growing dry. The sleek red fabric of her dress rippled against her legs, revealing whispers of skin, down to her black heels.
He didn’t even try to stop staring. It was impossible when she traveled as if a spotlight followed her everywhere, especially in that dress. So different from the full-skirted gowns the other guests wore, the color of crushed rubies spearing through the clouds of neutral colors most people sported in their attire tonight.
And yet, Kallia looked like she belonged in this world—a life of parties and ballrooms, of shows and magic dipped in extravagance.
“Perfect,” she said, once she made it down the stairs.
Daron’s heart stuttered out of beat. “What is?”
“Your face. I’ve been imagining what it would look like once you finally saw me in this dress.” She toyed with the rosebud pinned to her bodice, a teasing smile tucked in the corner of her lips.
It took everything in him not to pull her in, breathe into the crook of her neck and stay there. For all to see and whisper about, he didn’t care what they said. This was not a game anymore. It stopped being one for him a long time ago.
The closest he could get to her was offering his hand. “Dance with me?”
Kallia arched a brow, as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or not.
“Come on.” He flourished his fingers, waiting. “I’ve been taking dance lessons from a fine teacher. Might as well try out the moves in a setting that calls for it.”
“Stop it.” She threw him a stern look, begrudingly taking his hand.
“Stop what?” He let his thumb rub across her fingers, leading her to the floor where other couples had already started spinning to the swell of music.
“Flirting. Everyone can see.”
“Let them,” he said as he bowed. “We’re dancing, not committing a crime.”
With a reprimanding sigh, Kallia rose from her curtsy. She, who’d thrown fire in the faces of the judges, scandalized dinner parties without batting an eyelash, stolen the stage again and again. And yet Daron had never seen her look so rattled before.
“Now you stop it,” he parroted back.
“What?”
“Looking nervous. It doesn’t suit you.”
She attempted to iron out the bemusement from her expression, but the littlest cracks emerged. Her masks, paper thin when it was just them.
“One dance,” he spoke as they came togeth
er. Hand in hand, one to her waist while hers met his shoulder. “Then I’ll ignore you for the rest of the evening.”
“Well I don’t want that, either.”
He pulled her closer, whittling their distance to just a sliver.
One dance. One dance was polite, expected of them from those watching around the floor. Normally he never cared what other guests thought, but he was glad for the excuse.
“Demarco,” Kallia said warningly. “You look entirely too happy.”
“I can’t help it.” He stole glimpses over his shoulder. “This is new.”
“You like people watching you?”
“I like being here, like this, around everyone.” He pulled her to him, just a little closer. “It almost feels like…”
Daron couldn’t finish the thought, it felt too big for words. Too big to fit in just one sentence. His temple dropped to hers and his mind clouded entirely, unwilling to give a definition. Something nameless and vast, sitting heavily in his chest.
This, it said.
If they could stay just like this, that would be enough.
She drifted her fingers across the back of his neck. Not at all the proper hold, but she never missed a step. “I know.”
They stared at each other as they followed the rest of the steps in silence. It could never be just a dance between them. The song would soon end and the floor would clear, becoming just another moment of the night. After tonight, tomorrow, he wasn’t sure when else they would have another one like this.
He would’ve let his nose brush hers, their lips touch, if it weren’t for the showering applause. The music, slowly drawing to a close. No one noticed as he kept his hand at her back, both turning their attention to the latest arrival: the mayor, overlooking the party like a king from atop the stairs.
“People of Glorian, visitors from afar, generous donors, and contestants—it is truly a pleasure to see such a remarkable turnout for our city,” Mayor Eilin proclaimed, beaming at his audience below. “We are immensely thankful that Glorian is no longer a city to whisper about, but one with a much louder voice. And flashy headlines, I might add.”
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