A headliner sitting across took a strained sip of their tea, while one of the Diamond Rings nearly spit hers out on a laugh.
Filip’s stare darkened, but his smile remained every bit as golden as ever. “Maybe a fight will do you some good,” he said, lifting his gaze to Roth alone. “Just think, if she’s desperate enough, perhaps those powers will finally come out to save her.”
20
Daron and Lottie hastened to the center of Glorian, and they weren’t the only ones. A large crowd had already begun forming throughout the streets, excited whispers and curious murmurs rippling all about. After weeks of solemn quiet since Spectaculore’s end, Daron half wondered if they’d traveled back in time to when the show had only first begun.
They wove their way through the crowd, searching for Aaros or Canary among the faces. Careful not to cross any of the Patrons’ paths, or worse, his aunt. The benefit of a crowd was the hiding place it provided. No one glared or recognized him as he moved, all too transfixed by what was happening in the middle of Glorian. Erasmus stood, with Canary beside him, over what looked to be a curious gathering of strings all twisted together before flaring out to the ground.
Daron looked down at his feet, realizing the wires ran along the ground beneath the people’s feet. He didn’t dare touch it, afraid of what he might set off.
Perhaps it was a good idea that Canary had kept them so in the dark after all. The most amusing part was the familiar grip that clasped over his shoulder.
“Daron.” Aunt Cata turned him slightly, her mouth a stern flat line. “What’s going on?”
It was the first time he’d seen her since their last talk in her room, and she seemed just as displeased now as she did then.
“They’re putting on a show, I guess.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “I really know about as much as you. They’ve kept us all in the dark about everything.”
Softly, Lottie coughed from the side, covering a laugh. The jab was not lost on Aunt Cata. She knew when he lied. She’d watched him grow up in his prime lying years as a boy, so adept to the ways his face tucked away his secrets.
“Don’t worry, Auntie, it’s just a show.”
It was only a matter of time before Aaros emerged from the crowd to join them. He even dared to wink at the Head of the Patrons. “No harm ever came from a night of some good, clean fun.”
Daron bit back his laugh at his aunt’s unamused scowl that never left her. She signaled for two Patrons to follow her into the clusters of spectators toward the front. On a quick glance, Daron noted a few Patrons sprinkled throughout the vicinity, as well as those on the edges to contain them if things got too rowdy.
“Welcome, everyone!” Erasmus crowed to the delight of the applause showering around him. “It has been quite some time since we gathered like this. Who else has been restless for a little excitement?”
Beside him, Canary stood out with her ruby hair that blazed even in the darkness. Her look of pleasure could only mean Erasmus had absolutely no idea what was in store.
“We thought it would be a grand idea to surprise you all tonight,” the proprietor went on. “Because what better way to liven things up than with a show?” With a cheeky wink, he added, “Let’s give all of Soltair something to talk about, again.”
“I can’t believe you were married to him.” Aaros stood between her and the man up front.
“There’s a reason it didn’t last long.” Lottie turned to Daron, speaking under her breath. “You ready to run, Demarco? Once things go upside down, you better be off faster than a pistol shot.”
“And what will you be doing?”
The words had only just left his mouth as the roar tore across the sky. The air stilled entirely, stunning all of Glorian into a waiting silence. Even Erasmus.
“Committing to the chaos,” Lottie said, letting out a high-pitched scream. “Fire!”
No fire to be seen, but it was as if the world alone conjured it. Everyone in the crowd scrambled in every direction, especially when a loud, heavy tolling began to sound in the distance. Bells. Daron couldn’t be sure if it was the ones that tolled in dread at the Alastor Place, but no one could sense the difference. People knew all too well what the ringing of bells meant.
Once Daron slipped through the panicked mass, he looked back at the city center. Aunt Cata cupped her hands around her mouth to bring order, completely missing how Canary stumbled into Erasmus, who let the sparkling stick drop on the raised braid of twined wires.
As soon as the flame touched even one end, it spread to all the others, engulfing the entire braid to ash before tiny flames followed the paths of the wires they had originated from, running throughout the center.
Just like that, sparks flew beneath the people’s feet in a series of cracks and pops. Whatever was packed into those lines, they were now erupting into sparks and smoke across the entire town center. It didn’t appear as though anyone was getting seriously injured by the fireworks, so minor that they were perhaps just mere annoyances, but the panic ratcheted up the reactions tenfold. It felt less like a show gone wrong and more like an attack. “This is your chance, judge, take it!” Aaros said as both he and Lottie shoved Daron in the shoulder. “Go now!”
Daron stumbled face-first into the white uniformed back. The Patron who had been trying to calm the crowd turned at the interruption, his eyes tightening in recognition.
Shit.
Just as instantly, Aaros fell gracelessly in between them with a hysterical sob. “Help me, my foot is on fire!”
It wasn’t, but Daron surged forward, Lottie at his side. As the chaos heightened around the crowd, more Patrons responded and abandoned their posts.
“One shot, Demarco. And not much time.” Lottie panted, out of breath. When they reached the hospital building, he was more than surprised that she waited outside. “Report back in one piece, will you?”
* * *
Daron had never navigated this building at nighttime, though everything looked even more eerie than usual. The white cabinets of supplies shining in slices of moonlight from the windows, interrupted by bursts of colorful fractured light from the town center. The vast rows of beds, neatly made. A few scattered beds were filled, though the patients must have been under some intense nightly tonic to be sleeping through the racket bursting just outside the windows. The muffled shouts and sounds of chaos brewing below. It was a dead time for the hospital, which was not something Daron was used to seeing.
As soon as he reached the mayor’s section, he ripped open the curtain.
The same eerie drawings, like the one Daron had gotten from his aunt, covered the floors. Janette sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed, watching quietly as her father stood by the window as the chaos unfolded below.
“Let me guess, this is all your doing?” Janette nodded listlessly toward the window. “As if the first show didn’t do enough damage already?”
Daron tensed. It slowly dawned on him how much he regarded Glorian as a stage when, for those who’d never left the city, it was a home. A strange and twisted home, but for many, it was all they knew. All they were made to know.
A home that was more fragile than they ever realized, all falling apart outside their window.
Daron didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”
“I really shouldn’t be surprised. I knew you’d turn up, one way or another.” Janette blew out a tired sigh as she slowly rose from her seat. “And I have a feeling he did, too.”
Daron’s pulse leaped as he followed her line of vision to the window, noticing the mayor’s silhouette for the first time hidden by the curtains, overlooking the scene below. Every bright flash of light shadowed his motionless form, which was much smaller than Daron remembered.
“He hasn’t spoken a word since he last saw you,” she said so matter-of-factly, pushing aside some fallen papers with her heel. “He’s my father, and he won’t even speak to me. Just … this.” She threw out her hands toward the mess of drawings,
pooled like a gathering darkness at their feet.
“At first I figured he was punishing us with silence because we all thought him mad. But I think it was because we weren’t listening.”
“So you believe him now?” Daron prompted. By now, she had to admit there was something wrong with Glorian. Something missing, all this time.
Her laugh was sad. “I’m not sure what’s real anymore, Demarco. About this place, about anything.”
With that, she took her leave, drifting out of the room as solemnly as a ghost. It unnerved Daron to see her go so quietly, leaving a trail of unease in her wake.
“Daron Demarco, I wondered when you would be back for a visit.”
The mayor had turned from his place against the mirror, peering at him with his head tilted in the dark. As light burst behind him, he became like a silhouetted figure of shadow against the night.
“I don’t have much time, Eilin,” he said, staving off the chill from his bones as he crossed the room. “I need to know. What you said the other day—”
“If I was speaking pure nonsense?” the mayor asked. “You wouldn’t have come to me if you thought that, would you?”
Daron looked down. Even if he didn’t think it could be true, he’d come anyway. For any lead, anything. “I hoped it would be.”
“Ah, hope and desperation. A grand combination when looking for answers,” the mayor said, raking a hand through his hair though tufts of it still stuck out in odd places.
“I don’t have much time,” Daron stressed.
“Clearly. You’re all having quite the party out there.” Mayor Eilin’s frown was hesitant, unsure. “Normally I would be the first to shut it all down, but I’ve found that I have had a change of heart since coming to.”
Daron clenched his teeth until his gums numbed. “You told me to look for the gate, and I’d find Kallia. Find her where?”
“On the other side.” The man smiled, as if recalling some joke in his head. “You already know how to get there. You’re just looking for confirmation.”
“Zarose Gate is not an option.” Any answer besides that. After what Aunt Cata told him, he had no clue where to even go looking if the Zarose Gate across Soltair was just a pile of rocks.
“There is another way.” The mayor watched him, head tilted. “The surface is closer than you think.”
“Get lost where those do not dare,” Daron said quietly. “I thought you were talking about—”
“My map, did you find it?” The mayor looked out the window.
“Yes, but what does that mean?” Daron so badly wanted to wring the answers from the riddles. “That’s not helpful at all.”
“Isn’t it? There is only one place in all of Soltair where one dares not get lost,” the mayor said pointedly, gesturing for Daron to join him by the window.
The hospital building was at a high enough vantage point that one could view a majority of Glorian and the streets snaking in between.
A city now drowning in smoke. Like a dark cloud had descended upon the deserted streets, brightened by patches of small flames and sparks flaring at random. They bore just enough light to illuminate the few forms ducking through alleyways, clutching lampposts, as Patrons scrambled to extinguish the ever-growing fires threading throughout Glorian.
It was disaster and celebration all in one, as bursts of reds, blues, and purples showered over every building within the walls of Glorian and the rustling dark woods that stood outside, watching on as if in a world apart from theirs.
He looked down at the paper, the same angry writhing scribbles overtaking every sheet of paper around him.
“We’ve always been taught to never venture inside alone.” Mayor Eilin tilted his head, curious as a bird. “Yet we never learn what happens if we do.”
Daron’s insides clenched. “But you know?”
“I know only they told me.” He pressed his weathered fingers to the glass. “Go into the woods where the devils reach through the cracks, and they’ll welcome you with open arms. And only then will you find what you’re looking for.”
21
The possibility of power was too much to pass up. So after much consideration, Roth concluded that Kallia could reasonably learn how to duel in a day.
He offered her journals brimming with notes from past matches, access to the training grounds and the headliners’ gymnasium, and most importantly, private training from his most vicious, undefeated dueling champion.
“You better have a high tolerance for pain,” Vain said as she led them down the endless staircase of the Alastor Place. “Filip loves a screamer.”
Kallia smiled tightly. The headliner wanted about as much to do with Kallia as Kallia did with her. That was mutual, at least, but unavoidable. In the end, the Dealer always got his way because no one refused his wishes.
For once, Kallia hardly minded it. Vain’s ability was undeniable, that was more than clear the first time she watched the Diamond Rings perform. If there was even the slightest chance any of this could bring her closer to her own magic, Kallia would do anything. No matter how many venomous insults it took.
It was a shame the other Diamond Rings didn’t join, as the tension between the pair could split cleanly through glass. Especially with Jack always following behind, quiet as a ghost.
It took everything in Kallia not to explode as they all walked down the stairs of the Alastor Place. There was just so much to discuss. So much to consider. With Roth’s new plans, Kallia felt close to bursting from all of this madness.
Just madness after madness after madness.
Once the meal had wrapped up, she spared Jack no more than a wordless glance before Vain yanked her out of the Green Room to train for tonight. Everything else would have to wait.
When they reached the first floor after far too many stairs, the headliner showed them out through a side door of the main building. A long alleyway awaited just outside. And across, a discreet door into the next building over.
A thrill went through Kallia at all the possibilities of where it might lead. With so much noise, so many people pulling her every which way, she craved the cold, undisturbed floor of an empty stage. Or maybe a spacious gymnasium with enough room to stretch alone, far away from the others. It’s all she fantasized about when Vain ordered that they have privacy, going no farther unless Jack waited outside the building like a dog.
Kallia allowed it. Less bodies equaled more space. Less distractions, more concentration.
The building they finally entered alone left Kallia staring in horror.
“You want to train me here?” She gaped at the darkened room overflowing with endless rows of mirrors and empty frames. Everywhere. Almost as overwhelming as the Court of Mirrors, yet smaller in scale. Tighter.
This had to be a joke.
She waited for Vain to laugh and lead them through another door, but the girl glided through the racks of mirrors before throwing her coat over the long front counter where a lantern glowed. Decidedly, not a joke.
“There’s no way we can duel here.” Kallia stiffly navigated between frames, her gait careful. “Everything is so … breakable.”
“We’re not dueling in here.” A scoff rolled from the back of the headliner’s throat. “We’re not dueling at all. You’re definitely not ready for that.”
Not ready. So many people had thrown that at her already, and she couldn’t even argue it.
“Then what are we even doing here?” The words snapped out of Kallia. “Unless you want more reasons to look at yourself.”
“How do you think she ended up with a name like Vain?”
A head popped up from behind the front counter, before the rest of the figure stood. With a cheeky smile, Herald waved at them both with the rag in his hand. “Welcome to my domain, showgirl.”
“Zarose, how many jobs do you have?” Kallia glanced around, incredulous. “You sell mirrors, too?”
“Restore them,” Herald corrected, caressing the empty carved wooden frame by
the wall near him. “As it turns out, mirrors break a lot around here. And someone has to take care of them.”
An odd tenderness lay in his voice, as if they were pets and not the windows this world regularly spied through.
“Yes, in this dark, sad little cave,” Vain said, inspecting her nails. “Thought I’d have the place to myself. Should’ve known you’d be here, mirror boy.”
“Still doesn’t explain why we’re still here.” Kallia glared.
“Even I know the answer to that.” Chuckling, Herald rested his elbows against the counter. “Heard the muscles-for-brains brigade wants to kick your ass tonight. What a way to make friends, showgirl.”
Unsurprising, how fast the news had already spread. Even on the true side, gossip was a beast that moved quickly.
“Exactly. And guess who has the impossible task of making sure she doesn’t embarrass herself?” Vain’s eyes flew right back on Kallia. “You’re not ready to duel. So I’ve brought you here for a lesson that’s … a bit more at your level.”
“How thoughtful.” Kallia seethed. “And this is helpful, how?”
“Have you ever reflected on your past performances? Not to bask in the highlights, but to look at them with a critical eye?” The headliner raised a brow. “Examining your missteps? Honing in on your weaknesses or potential mistakes? Regrets?”
All the time.
Whenever Kallia finished a performance, it replayed scene by scene a hundred times in her head like a lullaby before bed. The times when something went wrong, however, it stayed in her mind all night. Haunting her, sometimes for weeks. And the only way to combat it and finally find some rest was by shoving all doubt away. That way, nothing could touch her. “I never have any regrets on the stage.”
With a hum, Vain trailed a finger along a nearby mirror’s edge. “Pity. The best sort of regrets are the ones you can learn from,” she said. “If you regret nothing from before, how will you do better next time?”
When Night Breaks Page 22