Reaching what he could only assume was the twenty-fourth card, the seamstress tapped the edges of what remained in the deck. “Tell me when to stop.”
Without warning, she tossed cards over her shoulder, one smacking Aaros square in the face. “Am I missing something? What are you doing?”
“Something I’ve only just started remembering.” Ira continued, all focus. “Playing cards is no random game. It’s not by chance you receive your hand, it’s by fate. From the simplest deck to the rarest.” She cocked her head at Daron as she kept on throwing over her shoulder. “Demarco?”
The thinner the deck started to grow, the more panic pulled at him. “St-stop.”
Once she did, she lifted her cooled gaze. Tit for tat. “From what I can remember, your Head Patron was nowhere near him. In fact, there were no Patrons at all.” Her brow hardened. “Not a white glove in sight.”
Impossible. The strangest cold swept down his spine.
“That can’t be,” he swore. “My aunt told me everything herself. Patrons are the only magicians with the means to sweep through a city the way they did.”
“This is their first time on the ground here in a while, is it not?” Ira asked, pressing a finger to her temple. “There’s still much to chip away in here—as will most likely happen for you too, Aaros. And many more in this sorry town.”
Aaros brought a fist beneath his chin, the rose-stitched handkerchief peeking out between his fingers. Kallia used to grip it tight in a similar manner. For strength, comfort. As if it could anchor her in a turbulent sea pulling her under. No one needed it more than her assistant, still holding on.
“All I can glean from your story of Glorian, Demarco, is fire. No one here likes it much, which makes it a fear running deep here,” Ira said. “Even if the story isn’t ringing any bells yet, I feel pieces coming back together. Memory will return if left unblocked…” She tapped at the top of her lips. “And someone has been keeping it that way, continuing what your Patrons first started. Or at least, that’s how it seems.”
Her words tangled everything Daron thought he’d discovered. Everything Aunt Cata had told him. From her lips, she sounded convinced that the one time they pulled the memories from the city had been enough. It had lasted Glorian this long, and now as if the timing could not be more perfect, they were due for another coating.
“How is that possible?” The horror on Canary’s face deepened. “There’s no way one magician could do that all on his own without a ring of Patrons to help.”
“Depends on the magician, then. And if they’re as desperate to quiet history.”
Just one night of it.
Twisted as it was, Daron recognized the logic of the Patrons. Their duty was in preserving Soltair from the ones with magic to those without. To them, erasing all knowledge of Rothmos Alastor summoning Zarose Gate was justified to prevent another incident from occurring. Daron couldn’t fathom how or why anyone else would carry on such a responsibility alone.
And from the looks of it, neither could Ira. Under a hard swallow, she placed the first card facedown on her lap. “This represents what you seek,” she explained. “Now, for what you’ll find…”
Daron didn’t like this, more a crucible than a game. Dealing in hypotheticals and certain uncertainties with fate was dangerous magic to be playing with. Fate never asked to be bothered with, and when she was, she rarely ever responded kindly.
Placing down the second card, Ira stared hard at her scar-ridden palms. “For the longest time, I thought he was only a dream I kept having. He’d walk past my shop on a rare and quiet day, and everything would just … fall quiet and blur after that,” she said, her frown deepening. “I thought I was going mad, but Eilin knows of him, too.”
The lines were crossing so quickly, Daron couldn’t keep them straight anymore. “This magician you saw outside your shop?”
“The face is still vague, but he fits.” Ira nodded. “I only know he wasn’t a Patron because that young man looked exactly the opposite—suit black as ink, with the knuckles of his fingers wrapped in dark metal.”
I know him. They all did, it seemed. And there was no coincidence about it.
Daron’s pulse sped until it crashed. “Are you sure?”
No other magician had power that could rival the Patrons, but then again, it was clear from the way he’d descended upon the ball that Jack was no ordinary magician.
Ira’s brow raised, glancing at them all. “I take it you’ve all met him, too?”
“At the ball, he took Kallia,” Daron bit out, recalling that fear in her when she’d first confided in him about her life before Glorian, with Jack. And his unnatural arrival at the ball, bringing the monsters in the mirrors with him. “She’s gone because of him.”
“Is that so?”
“Ira,” Aaros scoffed. “Please—”
“Please what? Are you so sure that everything you think you know is exactly what it seems?” The seamstress’s voice rose to an edge. “That girl is full is secrets and sides you probably never saw. She loves power. And if hers is supposedly gone, how can you be so sure she didn’t choose to follow this magician again just to get it all back?”
Because Daron knew Kallia. He knew she’d been running from this magician even before the show started. And a magician powerful as that could not have been easy to outrun.
Not when such power had drawn them together in the first place.
Daron stiffened. The last time he’d seen them, the two had been standing close by the mirror. No force, no forceful arms pushing her through the glass. Just a soft look in her eyes. No panic, no fear. Choice.
“Maybe I’m wrong then, if you’re so sure.” Ira clasped her hands together. “From what it sounds like, Eilin remembers far more than I do. He’d be your best bet at more answers than questions, and he clearly knows how to get to where you want.”
Lose yourself where those dare not get lost …
Where? Daron never once imagined he’d ever want alone time with the mayor, but now, he was desperate.
The man had already hinted at Kallia and Zarose Gate. The rest was all still a riddle.
“It’s impossible to even be in the same room with him, now.” Daron gritted his teeth. “Too many Patrons watching him. And me.”
“Everyone needs to blink eventually. Just seize that moment when it comes.” When Ira finally flipped over a chosen card, she chuckled deeply at it. “What you seek, Demarco, is the Crown Jewel of Flames.”
Daron wasn’t sure what was so funny about it. Warily, he studied the card’s design: a glittering onyx crown, surrounded by black triangles. The shapes were a sign of the Alastors. The marks inked on Jack’s knuckles.
That was no coincidence there. It had to be in some connection between the magician and a man like Rothmos Alastor. Maybe he was even an Alastor himself.
“And now, for what you’ll find…” Ira trailed off.
Daron wasn’t sure he even wanted to know, until the pads of Ira’s fingers hovered over the last card, froze like the rest of her.
“Where in the world did you get that?”
A cold shift hit the room. Daron straightened instinctively in pre-guilt, only to find he was not the target of the woman’s intense stare.
“What’s the matter?” Aaros stepped back, pressing at the front of his shirt and his pants. “What’s on me?”
“Not on you, foolish boy. In your hand.”
“It’s a handkerchief?” His head flinched back slightly, gaze dropping to his fist. “And it’s not mine, it’s Kallia’s. I found it around the area where she disappeared.”
“Hmm. Poor frayed scrap looks like some cat had quite a time with it.” She snapped a finger in demand. She assessed the embroidered flower stem stitched over it. Nearly headless, with all the petals that had fallen. “Doesn’t explain why she’d have it. I could’ve sworn she wasn’t an academy girl.”
“No, she had tutors.” Daron’s brows knitted together. “She’s never gone
beyond the Dire Woods in her entire life.”
“You’re not going to find one of these growing on a tree out in those woods.”
Everyone pressed in closer as the seamstress unfolded the crinkled cloth over her palm, inspecting it. “I would know, because I have one just like it,” she murmured, pensive. “All the girls at Queen Casine’s receive a rose cloth upon entry.”
Queen Casine’s? Daron shifted on his feet, unable to recall if Eva ever possessed such an item. Then again, she had hated the academy. For Aunt Cata’s sake, Eva had grinned through her years of study, but it wouldn’t shock him one bit if she’d destroyed the rose cloth on sight.
But Kallia?
“It can’t be.”
Ira arched a displeased brow. “You calling me a liar, golden boy?”
“How can you be too sure when your memories have been scrambled like eggs?” Canary snatched the fabric for a closer look herself. “I burned mine before dropping out of the academy,” she said. “And it looked nothing like this.”
“You really think someone who sews for a living wouldn’t take her fabrics and cloths seriously? If you hadn’t turned it to ash first, birdie, perhaps you would’ve seen it’s no ordinary rose. Like an illusion tied to its magician, this sort of embroidery breathes at the touch of magic. As long as that thread of power remains.”
“It looks quite dead, actually,” Lottie remarked off-handedly, and had the decency to appear somewhat chagrined from all the glares. “Sorry, but look at the petals.”
The longer Daron did, the more he noticed the slight drift in the tips of the leaves at the stem, a subtle brush against the petals below it, nearly drifting off the edge.
So many fallen petals.
“Dying…” Canary cocked her head at the rose still living on the cloth. “But not dead.”
They all startled at the sudden whoop from Aaros as he snagged back the rose cloth with a victory wave in the air. “Not dead—we’ll take it!”
Ira rolled her eyes. Lottie contemplated. And Canary looked conflicted as Aaros’s cheered relentlessly in the background. Daron pressed a hand to his stomach, relief slamming into him.
Alive. The confirmation felt like a miracle.
“Not dead, but still weak.”
Deep in thought, Ira’s stern expression had not shifted as she tapped a finger against her chin. “And, in case you’ve already forgotten, she’s also not who she seems. Or at least, not what she told you.”
“Why must you ruin the moment, Ira?” groaned Aaros, an attempt to keep the mood light.
Daron chewed at his inner cheek. Whether or not Kallia truly had been an academy girl shouldn’t have mattered. But with the gates to Glorian closed, and Queen Casine’s all the way across Soltair, it couldn’t tell them much. Only that there was a lot he didn’t know, a lot she’d kept from them all.
“Better to question now than wish you did later,” the seamstress muttered. “I’m not saying don’t search for the girl. But too many lies have led to this point, and we all know trouble has been following her since she entered this city. Can’t be too careful.”
As she finally flipped Daron’s last card, she stilled.
It set his nerves on edge. His gaze dropped to a card bearing no suits or numbers. Just an image, turned upside down. A group of solid black silhouettes against the stark white shadows in the shape of a top-hatted gentleman, mixed with those who took more beastly forms.
“What is it?” Aaros ducked his head in close like everyone else around.
“It’s nonsense.” Ira snatched it away and hastily gathered all the fallen cards. “Never you mind. My memory can’t remember this silly game anyway.”
Ice traveled up Daron’s spine to the back of his neck as the woman shuffled more aggressively. The two cards drawn for him, now lost and devoured by the deck. “It doesn’t sound like nonsense.”
“Nor like some silly game,” Lottie noted, crossing her arms. “What does the card mean?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never pulled it before.”
“Why start lying now, seamstress?” Canary raised a brow. “You’ve never held back before.”
“I’m not lying, red,” Ira shot back. “I’ve never drawn that card because cards of the Unknown suit in a Glorian deck are not easily found. They find you.” She continued splitting and folding the deck back into each other seamlessly. “I’ve had this deck for ages. Probably the last of its kind for obvious reasons, but discontinued for others.”
“Why discontinued?” Aaros watched the rapid movement between her fingers. “They’re … just cards.”
“And we all thought Glorian was just a city.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Not everything can be easily cleaned up. And even objects left behind as simple as cards can open up a world of questions.”
“So what did that card mean?” Daron pressed. He couldn’t accept nonsense as an answer. He wasn’t even a believer in fates determined by cards, but Ira’s reaction held him by the neck, and it wouldn’t let go until he knew why.
In response, Ira fanned out her freshly reordered deck before him. “Choose again.”
When he did and flipped over his choice, she hissed out a curse at the card bearing the same black shadow against the stark white background.
“Cards of the Unknown suit, in particular, are rare,” she whispered. “No matter how the deck is rearranged or if every card falls face up, you won’t be able to find it yourself. But if a card like this keeps finding your hand, it wants you to listen.” The omen hung so heavily in the air as she nodded at him. “That one is The Devils. Inverted.”
Daron hadn’t heard the term spoken with such severity in so long, probably not since he and Eva were much younger and prone to misbehavior. The way Ira looked at him now made him feel about as old. The same way Aunt Cata had always regarded him, if he was in trouble or soon to be.
“The Devils, in general, represent desire that comes with a cost. Upright indicates power and might. Turned around, it can be loss and deception. Death.” A dark sigh drew from her as she plucked the card from his hold. “You go searching for the Crown Jewel of Flames, Demarco, and that’s exactly what you’ll find.”
15
There was no greater dissatisfaction than a thirst for blood left unquenched.
Kallia knew the risks. If all of the headliners had already despised her on sight before, she’d now just ruined their night of fun. And she would eventually have to pay. Having Roth’s arm looped within hers all the way out of the Green Room did not make her untouchable. Far from it. If anything, it made her even more of a target. And without power, that much easier to hunt.
She needed a predator of her own.
“A bodyguard? What for?” Roth scoffed as they walked down the halls of the Alastor Place to her bedroom. A pair of shadow servants trailed at their backs, and Jack’s even quieter footsteps followed somewhere behind. “My dear, you’re an Alastor.”
“I know how the others look at me,” Kallia said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them tried stabbing me in my sleep tonight.”
“My headliners? Oh, they’re just jealous little things. Harmless.” He ticked his tongue against his teeth and gave a frivolous wave of his hand. “They like to play their games with each other, but that’s really all it is.”
Either the man was acting deliberately obtuse, or knew exactly what was happening right under his nose. No one stayed on top without pushing others to the bottom, especially in a ring of performers all fighting for fame and favor. It was only a matter of time before they descended upon her. Because in any game, nothing united rivals more than a common enemy.
It was Spectaculore all over again, except the players of this game were far from incompetent. They were the best of the best on this board, and they wouldn’t let her forget it.
“Come now, don’t be paranoid. We’re all one big family, really.” Roth clasped his hands together. “But if it makes you feel any better, we can all enjoy a grand meal toget
her tomorrow. Make some introductions, smooth over any bad blood, go over event plans and such—they’ll love you, I’m sure.”
Kallia smiled, absolutely certain a formal introduction and food would not fix anything. “You’re right, thank you.”
“And besides, what better way to pair you up than to bring you right into the fold? Like I said, you’ll have your pick of the best to train with.” He beamed. “And then you’ll be back to your old self. Your magic will return.”
Her stomach soured. The idea sounded as disastrous as when he’d first brought it up, but there was no convincing him otherwise. “In the meantime, I’d still like a guard of my choosing,” she said with a sigh. “Until my powers come back, of course. I’ll only feel completely safe with security that’s even more powerful than the devils.”
If Jack were listening in, which she did not doubt, she could only imagine what he was making of this. Not that there was another choice aside from being torn to pieces.
“So you’d place your safety in him?” Roth balked. “After what you just saw?”
The fight with the devils told her all she needed to know about Jack’s ability. As well as everyone else in that room who would dare challenge it.
“He won’t hurt me. As you said, he cares for me.” Kallia shrugged, shooting an icy glance over her shoulder. “It would be fun to see just how much. After everything he’s put me through.”
And everything he’d kept.
Vengeance came naturally to her. There was nothing fake in that, just as there was nothing more satisfying than the thought of holding the most powerful being in this world in the palm of her hand. More powerful than the devils. Than the Dealer, even.
Perhaps that was why Roth hesitated and pressed so much, to a point where Kallia was worried he might see through it all, and refuse.
They came to a stop by a door at the end of the hall, where Roth paused in consideration while seconds dropped like hours.
Kallia held her breath the whole time, an unbearable tightness in her chest. It killed her, how much patience she needed to get a fool’s approval. To wait for his permission, like a bloody child who didn’t know any better for herself.
When Night Breaks Page 15