“Let’s say the rule is only things that could be found in a forest,” he began, deep in thought. “And I start off with—”
“What did you think of Roth’s plan?”
The weight of the meal had grown heavier and heavier on Kallia’s shoulders as the day continued. It had to be the same for Jack. And as expected, the effect the words had was instant.
“Are you sure you want to talk about that now?” Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Especially before your—”
“The duel doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, knowing what a lie that was. If by some miracle she won, that would be all that mattered. But by and far, it was not the priority. “Roth is using tonight to announce his plans, and it’s all going to burn like wildfire from there.”
“He’s adept at winning crowds, that’s for sure. Even if it gets them cheering for their doom.”
Kallia dabbed more rouge over her lips, slower this time. “You really think it could all happen again like last time?”
They both tensed at the idea. The secondhand account was warning enough for Kallia, but if Jack had seen what the devils did before, he knew that horror. And he knew exactly what Roth was capable of.
“I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t put it past him,” Jack said, a troubled note entering his voice. “It will take a lot of magic to saturate the air and blur those lines enough to reveal the gate in the first place.”
“That won’t take long.” This Glorian was overflowing with power. Too much. She was surprised Zarose Gate wasn’t already waiting just outside. “That’s why I’m here in the first place.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only way someone like me can leave,” she said. “The only way back.”
That was, if she even made it. The gate’s design was the perfect trap. A guaranteed tool to keep both sides separate, a way out with no way out. And only Roth would be the kind willing to risk one world for another.
“We’ll…” A strained pause, as Jack pulled his legs back from over the ledge and turned. “We’ll find another way.”
He’d already said before there was no other way. To suggest otherwise was just foolish hope. “You’re powerful, but even you have limits,” she said. “However, you can also leave any time you’d like.”
The reminder was for Jack as much as it was for her, but he said nothing. There was no reason he had to subject himself to a place he hated, where its people hated him in turn. He had a choice. And if their roles were reversed, she wouldn’t hesitate.
If he decided the same for himself one day, where would that leave her?
Kallia glanced in the mirror, one last look at how she appeared in the outfit that had been laid out for her when she first strode back into the room. The shimmery, embroidered purple show jacket she wore now caught the light like jewels and sported a daring plunge. It was the flashiest piece of her attire, paired with dark pants and boots for easy movement. A surprisingly practical outfit for this world, but a duel warranted it.
Her eyes shut as she breathed, every inhale and exhale centering her more and more. Silencing all the world around her, clearing everything inside her. The routine grounded her now as it always had before every set.
So that when Kallia opened her eyes, she saw nothing but a dazzling magician in the reflection, ready to go out to perform.
It was so easy to feel powerful when you looked it, Kallia almost deceived herself.
* * *
“My friends,” the Dealer’s voice boomed from the center of the floor as he looked out into the crowd around him. “Welcome to a duel you’ll never forget!”
Everyone in the Court of Mirrors roared and stomped their feet in such thunderous approval, Kallia worried the mirrors might shake off the walls. Their surfaces still glinted with glimpses of the true side—girls puckering their lips as they readied themselves for a night out, stolen kisses in some darkened bathroom, many figures rising for the start of the day or preparing for bed.
Tonight, nobody came to watch the mirrors.
“We have a very special announcement at the match’s end,” Roth teased, the spotlight following his steps across the empty ballroom floor. “Let’s see a show of hands…” His grin widened. “Who will be staying until the end to hear it?”
The hint had everyone throwing their fists high into the air.
Kallia’s eyes darted to Jack’s, just as unsurprised by the reaction. Neither of them needed to stay until the end to know how the city would receive the show in the works. Roth already had them all firmly in the palm of his hands from the moment he opened the Court for a duel that night.
While Roth continued his opening statement, the Red Death Dukes formed a huddle as one giant red mass on the opposite end of the floor. They truly were an army, about six or seven magicians of similar brawny build, all looking nearly identical in their uniforms. By the time Kallia and Jack entered the arena, they’d already been practicing across the floor. Quick physical drills and exercises, interspersed with tricks to make for a sprawling preshow across the ballroom, keeping the early audience members satisfied.
“Zarose, all the ways I would drag them across the floor.” Vain sighed, watching the huddled men through slitted eyes.
Kallia was nearly tempted to give her the slot, just to see it happen.
Not long after Jack and Kallia entered the Court of Mirrors, the Diamond Rings arrived by their side. More out of pity than support. Or necessity, when it came to Vain. Stone-cold as usual, she had no words of luck or assurances for Kallia.
“Truthfully, it’ll be a miracle if you even make it past the first illusion,” she said, clapping Kallia hard on the shoulder. “So aim for that.”
Half-hearted applause came from Malice. “Inspiring words of encouragement.”
“Seriously.” Ruthless shook her head at them before patting the back of Kallia’s hand. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be fabulous.”
At least one person thought so.
“On this end, we have Filip d’Chane from our very own daredevils, the Red Death Dukes!” Roth grandly gestured over to the red team that had broken out of their huddle and whooped along with the spectators. They all thumped Filip in the back as he made his way to the front, grinning and waving in all the directions to catch all the applause he could.
“And now, we have a new contender in our midst…” With the low drop of his voice, the Court of Mirrors hushed. “You know her as the star of the mirrors, and now you’ll see that shining star in action—let’s welcome to the dueling grounds, Kallia Alastor!”
The applause was louder than any Kallia had ever received, but all she could hear was the name ringing in her head.
Kallia Alastor.
In one breath, she was given a family, a history, a past.
Everything her first name alone had none of.
“What are you waiting for?”
Vain’s sniping question came with a small shove in the arm. “Just remember: no matter how horrendously you fail, it’s not the worst thing that can happen to a magician.”
“Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“It can be. But you have nothing to lose in losing tonight, since you already got your place here handed to you on a silver platter,” she said. “Time to finally fight for it.”
She pushed Kallia out onto the floor. Filip stretched out his arms in preparation, just outside his circle marked on the ground. A few paces apart, with the small anchor sitting in the middle, marked the distance where Kallia’s circle awaited.
On the way, Roth intercepted her with a beaming smile. “Excellent turnout tonight, I must say!” He gave a warm press to her arm. “How is my star feeling tonight? Ready to fight?”
Kallia found herself preferring Vain’s shoves over Roth’s gentle touches. “I’m definitely ready for something,” she said with a smile.
“Oh, don’t be nervous. I know this is all very sudden, and your magic is not quite where we want it yet,” he said. “But think of w
hat an opportunity like this might do for you. It could be just the thing to spark something.”
Every hope that hardened his voice was not for Kallia in the slightest. If launching her into the sky of devils was the instant trick to returning her powers back in full force, he would do so in a heartbeat without any remorse.
Whenever he looked at her, even now, all he would ever see was a power that could be.
“Maybe.” Kallia fought back a grimace as the man kissed her on the cheek before coyly edging off the floor to find his seat. It took everything in her not to wipe off the touch imprinted with cologne and the rub of stubble with the back of her hand.
She still had a show to perform.
“Any day now, fancy meat,” Filip called out from his circle, arms crossed. His fellow Red Death Dukes farther down on his end let out a round of oohs as if he’d just thrown out the best joke they’d ever heard in their lives.
On the off chance her powers did return tonight, Kallia knew exactly which magicians she’d be taking down first.
“What’s the rule?”
“Oh that’s precious, you even know how to play!” he exclaimed with mock-astonishment. “I’m a gentleman first, so I’ll let the rule go to you. Don’t think too hard, now.”
Unsmiling, Kallia asked, “Are you going to keep talking, or are we going to establish a rule?”
“Pushy, pushy.” Filip tutted. “I’m a gentleman first, so I’ll let the rule go to you. Don’t think too hard, now.”
He was giving her the power. A pity move, more than anything. But still, likely the only upper hand she’d have in this duel.
Kallia shot a look over her shoulder. The Diamond Rings remained exactly where she’d sat before, with Ruthless gripping Malice’s hands nervously while Vain took out a daggerlike file for her fingernails.
A thrum of panic went through her when she lost sight of Jack for a moment, but he stood off against the walls. Partly shadowed, most likely to stay out of her war path once the duel started.
If he so much as tried to interfere at any point, it would only make her look weaker.
From his subtle nod for luck, it became clear what rule she had to pick. Vain preferred rules that were more like riddles to confuse the opponent and play with their mind. Whereas Jack believed a good fighter knew when to use the weapon, or take it away.
“Nothing that’ll draw blood,” Kallia called out. “That’s my rule.”
A wave of loud boos erupted from the Red Death Dukes, joined by a few protests and groans scattered throughout the Court of Mirrors. The signature brutality of the Red Death Dukes was clearly the crowd pleaser in any of their shows or duels. If they thrived on taking their opponents down painfully, she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her bleed.
Filip scoffed, as if his favorite toy had just been taken away. “Shame. You’d look even better with a little more red on you.”
“You have no idea.” Kallia took her position, back turned until the dueling bell sounded. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as an old feeling coursed through her once she looked down at her boots over the marble floor. They reminded her of all the times she took one last moment to feel the stage beneath her feet.
Hellfire House had prepared her well for this.
Whenever she’d step off that chandelier and made contact with the dance floor, she saw all the patrons lined at the sides around her, watching and raising their glasses in cheer. Not like her acts in Spectaculore, a stage that raised its performers like gods giving a show for the mortals below.
The stage was more intimate because everyone stood upon it.
Kallia let that energy wash over her as more applause rained over them. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to hear her name chanted, hands clapping just for her. And from the looks of those around them, this had to be the most thrilling match to come by in a long time. A taste of something new, unpredictable.
The dueling bell rang again.
Kallia whirled around, her heart racing.
The anchor disappeared from the center.
Don’t freeze.
She braced herself as Filip cast first, raising both arms high above his head like a bear about to attack. When he dropped them, a harsh gust of wind tore at her. If she hadn’t planted her feet firmly before, the sheer force of it would’ve made her stumble backward. Out of her circle.
Kallia would not go down that easily.
Don’t freeze.
The wind wrapped all around her, howling over the audience.
Pulling her down.
Don’t freeze.
Kallia pushed back, astonished as the wind spun in her hand like threads she could pull.
Keep the illusion going, Vain’s unrelenting voice barked in her ear as her own clock started. If the bell rang again, she would lose. She couldn’t hesitate. She had to try.
Magic on the other side was a different beast. More reflex than thought, a storm without warning. Kallia gripped at those threads the wind had given her. Soon enough, they solidified in her palms, burning hot as a flame.
When she thrust them out, they shattered through the air over his head like fireworks.
The shower of light earned scattered cries of amazement. Even Kallia had to cover her mouth to keep the joyous shriek from bubbling out.
She hadn’t frozen. She hadn’t hesitated.
And her magic was finally answering her back.
The timer barely started for Filip as he rolled his eyes at the display, watching the sparks fall to the ground with his hand outstretched. They never fizzled out; they brightened and moved at his command, gathering in his palm like a long, sharp tail that grazed the ground.
Kallia barely had time to duck before he wielded the sparks like a whip—
A burn cracked against her face.
The cheers were deafening as Kallia fought to keep standing and cupped her throbbing cheek. Inside, she screamed at the excruciating bite of pain. All it left was a line of a scar on her skin, but no blood. Just the scalding mark of a burn.
There was barely time to recover before Filip thrust the fiery whip forward again. And again, and again. Kallia did all she could to stay within the ring, ducking and dodging as the sharp tongue sailed past her shoulder. She couldn’t move far as he aimed lower.
When the whip struck at her leg, it tore through the fabric and seared straight into skin.
Her whole body tightened with a scream she pushed down. Even if she let it out, the roar of the audience would’ve drowned her out.
Filip cupped his ear to them, egging them on to holler even louder as he reared back the whip once more.
On shaky breath, Kallia saw it coming. The heat lanced right against her brow—another stab of fire—which she snatched before it retreated.
Her palms screamed at the burn as she yanked the whip out of his hands with a strength that surprised even her. The pain passed her nerves, numb to the adrenaline now as she ripped the blazing whip apart into different pieces.
As they hit the ground like limp pieces of rope, they reminded her of snakes.
So they slithered, lethal and swift, toward Filip.
Kallia planted her hands at her knees, a brief respite while he conjured next. Her breath grew more and more labored while her heart pounded as though it could smash right out of her chest. Sweat dripped down her neck. Her thoughts swirled.
Whatever magic she had left in her, she couldn’t feel it anymore.
Couldn’t feel anything.
When the next cold hit, it caught her hard in the jaw. She felt a crack in the bone, tasted blood against her teeth. It didn’t stop once the next large rock struck her shoulder. Then the other.
The next slammed her gut.
Again and again, the rocks came at her. Relentless, never-ending, leaving no inch of her unbruised.
“Look how she bows,” her opponent crowed. “How gracefully she accepts defeat!”
Kallia swayed, realizing the curves of her circle no lon
ger surrounded her. They were far out of reach. Somehow, she’d staggered out and fallen to one knee.
The resounding laughter burned over her skin, but the disappointed frowns were worse. Thankfully the pain had reached a point beyond sensation, that she no longer felt anything. Not embarrassment or shame or humiliation. Nothing.
She fought for breath as she grew sleepier. And sleepier.
Get up, Kallia.
No matter how many times she begged, her body would not obey.
Because Kallia had gone deathly still the moment she looked up and saw Aaros.
He stood at the front of the sidelines, his dark eyes awash in pity as he shook his head slowly in disgust.
Kallia reached out a shaky hand, his name a hoarse whisper that died in her throat at the next hard blow to her ribs. It knocked her over onto the cold ground, sweeping relief across her body. She could rest. Finally.
She smiled at all the familiar faces she found across the floor.
Erasmus dressed all in red, pointing right at her in laughter.
A solemn Lottie, watching on with disinterest before throwing back her drink in one gulp.
Aaros appeared again. Juno. Canary. All of the Conquerors, by some miracle.
They were here.
Kallia’s vision began to swirl as she looked for one more face, searching and searching and searching—
And found in the mirrors a glimpse of fire.
Glorian, burning to the ground. Before darkness stole her away.
24
Her eyes drifted open to the blur of night green and gentle white. Leaves and moonlight. The glow of the finest colors, soft as petals fallen.
“It’s for you.”
Kallia smiled, utterly boneless. The air was warm and sweet, just like a dream. “What?”
“It was supposed to be for you when you won.”
Impossible. The duel had been blow after blow, the pain never-ending. Even when she’d stopped to take a breath, the breathing hurt from all the bruising. All the bones that had broken too fast to even feel it.
When Night Breaks Page 25