When Night Breaks

by Janella Angeles

  Her stomach twisted into knots, pulling tighter as he began pouring into one glass, then the other. The only sound in the whole shop, her heart thundered even louder.

  What was she doing here? The first thing Kallia should’ve done was go back to find Vain and the others, make sure they were all right and figure out what the hell they were thinking, bringing down the night in such a blaze of horror. It was a sheer miracle the carnival hadn’t turned into a blood bath, and that Glorian had taken the most hits. A life lost was lost for good, but a broken city could always be rebuilt.

  If Demarco hadn’t mentioned that Vain had gone to find the others, likely safer altogether if Vain was at the helm, then Kallia would’ve gone off in search of them. It felt strange to be split up from them, but there was no way around it once the night went to ruin. To cover more ground and find everyone, they chose the best course of action: Vain went for the booths while Demarco headed for the tents.

  When they approached the Alastor Place on weary feet, that should’ve been her cue to head back to her room. The girls were all no doubt waiting to ambush her there. Perhaps Jack was even waiting on the roof, hoping she might show.

  But Kallia let Demarco lead her to the shop, and she couldn’t seem to leave. No matter how close she inched toward the door, she couldn’t make herself go through it yet.

  After topping off equal pours of the luminous blue liquor into each glass, Demarco pushed one in her direction with a clink against his own. “Cheers to making it out alive.”

  “Barely.” With a small smile, Kallia reached for her drink, the glass surprisingly cool to the touch, even without ice. “Thank you.”

  “It’s well-deserved, I think.”

  “No, I—” Her voice thickened under the knot in her throat. “Thank you for … for coming back for me.”

  His lips just barely touched his glass before he paused. The crease of his brow deepened. “You sound so shocked. Of course I would come back for you.”

  Zarose. He didn’t have to say it like that.

  Kallia shot another look toward the door, urging herself to go. Before she exposed herself further, her most vulnerable spots she guarded well. But not with Demarco. Without even trying, he knew just how to draw them out. “I was awful to you, the other night.”

  It was difficult to even look at him, when every time she thought of that alleyway, she remembered how his face fell. How it twisted and cut her up inside, imagining all it must’ve taken to find her, and how desperately she’d wanted to hear none of it. Shock aside, there was a meanness in those words, and they hit. With all the work it took to dig under Demarco’s hard exterior, any time he showed emotion, he meant it. Deeply.

  “Well, my being here probably didn’t help as much as I’d hoped,” he admitted after a brief, pensive sip. “Not sure what I expected, honestly. You, of course, which was more than enough for me.”

  Kallia tried not to smile, looking down at her finger tracing the rim of her glass. “And your sister,” she added. “Were you able to talk with her, at least for a bit?”

  Selfish as it was, that was all she wanted for them both: a chance to say what hadn’t been said before. Not that she had any business inserting herself in the first place. She would never know a bond like theirs, the thorniness of having a sibling—and a lost one, at that. What she did know was how deeply she cared for them, and all the ways she saw regret hurting them. Vain couldn’t stand to talk about her past as if she had none, whereas Demarco carried his like a punishing weight on his back every day.

  Damage had been done, but not beyond repair. If there was any light in coming to this other side without any way to leave, then at least it could be a place where some wounds could finally heal.

  “Yes, we did indeed.” Demarco pursed his lips into a tense line, holding in some deep thought, that gradually curved with a glimmer of warmth. “But I don’t want to talk about that. I’d rather talk about what you said to me tonight. Under the tent.”

  Kallia tipped her gaze back up at the ceiling with an inward groan. Hell, she could’ve said anything. Everything in that moment had become one frantic blur, fueled more by panic and adrenaline than logic. And from the looks of his lopsided grin, whatever she’d babbled on about had made him all too pleased, which was most certainly a sign of trouble.

  With deliberate slowness, Kallia took a leisurely sip of her drink. “I’d rather not.”

  “You’d rather not?”

  He was just toying with her, at this point. “Clearly I wasn’t in my right mind. I could’ve been crushed at any moment. What more do you want?” she bit out. “It’s bad enough that my final words could’ve been absolute nonsense.”

  Demarco cocked his head. “Absolute nonsense?”

  “Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?”

  “Just until you remember, maybe.” His voice went soft as he came around the counter, stopping just a few steps away. His shirt remained damp in patches with sweat over his front and back, torn in a few places. Still far more presentable that what she could say for her show costume. Many of the jewels on her face had fallen off in the fray, until they appeared more like specks than a mask.

  Now, more than ever, she needed her mask. He’d seen too much, and she couldn’t bear the way he looked at her: like he was certain of something, every time he saw her.

  As if they were still in Glorian and nothing between them had changed.

  The cold shard running down her spine sent Kallia back a step. Go. The instinct to run gripped her tight, burning deep in her bones.

  Go, before it hurts even more.

  Almost instantly, his brow creased. “What’s wrong?”

  That he even had to ask, when it was so clear nothing would ever make this madness all right. In the end, it only gave Roth more power over her, over him. “I have to go.”

  “Wait, what?”

  She twisted around to leave, finally, but Demarco blocked her path, stopping her with a gentle press of her shoulders. “What happened? Was it something I said?”

  A laugh choked out of her, a pained sound. “You need to stop taking the blame for everything, for once. Some things aren’t anyone’s fault, they just … are. And we have to live with them, even if it’s not what we would’ve chosen.”

  Demarco shook his head slowly. “I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

  “I have to go now,” she said under a hard swallow. “But you have to go back.”

  39

  You have to go back.

  There was a ringing in his ears, a spike in his heart.

  At first Daron wondered if the drink had something to do with it, but after one glass, he was still completely sober. “There … is no way back. I thought that was the point.”

  “I’ll figure something out,” Kallia said, prying his hands off her. All controlled composure. “There’s always a way, but—”

  “If that’s true, then why just me?” Every muscle tightened in his body. “You said I have to go back.”

  Not us. Not we.

  Somewhere in between, she’d decided that no longer existed.

  Daron wasn’t sure what happened in the space of that one breath, but it sent his head spinning, how fast the discussion turned. His knees felt like water holding him up, so that he had to lean against the counter for the support.

  “Only one can go through Zarose Gate. It’s volatile enough as it is, but it can be done.” She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair, all soft waves tangling at the ends. “If this gate comes, they want me to break it to see what happens.”

  “I know what will happen.” Clearly she did too, from her solemn acceptance. His teeth clenched so forcefully, they nearly cracked. “You can’t actually consider throwing yourself in front of that.”

  “What other choice is there?” Kallia’s eyes flashed on him. “If you don’t go, then he will use you against me. Push you to push me. He already has. That’s not a sustainable arrangement, Demarco, and you kno
w it.”

  “So this is your impossible solution?” His voice raked against his throat. “You’re willing to risk your life for an outcome that has no chance of succeeding?”

  “Isn’t that what you did, when you walked through the Dire Woods?”

  Heat flew to his cheeks. “It’s not the same.”

  “Isn’t it?” She couldn’t look at him for the longest time, just her feet. As if there was some safety in it. “You’re able to risk a lot the way you did, but I can’t?”

  “There was slightly more to back up my chances.” Manipulation, for the most part. But at the very least, something guided him with a certainty that he would make it to the other side intact. “Whereas this … there’s nothing to back it up, whatever this plan is. I’m not even sure you know what it is.”

  “Maybe, but there’s time to plan.” A slight waver ruined the steadiness of her voice. “At the very least, I can try.”

  He needed to breathe. He needed to stare at the wall until his thoughts reset and regained order. Agitated, Daron paced deeper into the shop, letting the cool air wash over him. To his surprise, she didn’t immediately run for the door—she followed until the mirrors captured her reflection, one bouncing off the other, until Kallia was everywhere. Everywhere he looked, she stood just behind him. Waiting for him to turn and face her.

  It felt like the cruelest trick of all. Not even all the ways she’d come to him as an illusion pricked as sharp as this. The longer the silence stretched between them, the more he bled.

  “Please don’t do this,” he rasped out. “No one is powerful enough to rewrite rules like that, Kallia. If you find a way for one, then why not another person?”

  “We shouldn’t think so idealistically.” Her lips fell to a grim frown. “It’s hard enough to see what allows one magician through. Hoping for two would be pushing that luck.”

  “Then don’t waste it on me.”

  The air tightened before a sound resembling a snarl emerged. “Why not?”

  Daron swallowed hard, looking down at his hands, the scrapes they’d taken after pulling and heaving chunks of debris off the tent earlier. The memory of her words—desperate and breathless—found him in the chaos. Back then, they’d made him smile. Now, they crushed deep in his chest. “Do you want to know what you said to me?” he asked, finally turning around. “Earlier tonight?”

  “No.”

  He snorted at the bite in her response, before he let the words go. “Take me home.”

  Kallia went rigid, weighing the thought in her head. “I never said that.”

  “You did. It’s probably something you would never admit out loud, but that is what you said. And that is why if this plan all magically works out the way you want, I’m not going,” he said through gritted teeth. “Please don’t choose me over yourself. You keep telling me I have a chance to get out of here. But you deserve a life, too, Kallia. A life beyond illusions.”

  “You won’t change my mind about this. Don’t make this any harder.”

  “I don’t think I could, honestly.” He scoffed, the sound harsh and biting. “You’ve made your choice. To stop exploring others.”

  “Don’t you dare shame me. You don’t know what I’ve been through here, what I’ve had to force myself to let go of. What I’ve had to make the best of, just to stay sane.” Shit. The tears were already gathering in her eyes without permission. “I was only just starting to accept all of this, and then you had to come.”

  The words were like knives leaving her mouth. They hurt him, far more than he would dare admit. But his face probably said it all, the deepness of his breath. “I’m sorry I came here, thinking for one second you might want to come back with me given the chance.”

  Her reply cut short to an odd silence.

  Daron glanced at her, her face drenched with jewels and made up for war, and she looked entirely stunned, her lips parted and eyes wide as she took in the room. He followed, and his heart stopped entirely.

  Gone were the cold shadows of the mirror shop. It vanished under bright greens and glowing leaves, fiery petals that rose in the soft dark all around them. The moon shone gently through the ceiling above, the starry night sky appearing just a bit blurry through the musty glass encasing the entire room. If Daron closed his eyes to focus, he would probably be able to pick up on the sweet humidity. But he didn’t want to close his eyes, for fear the illusion might disappear.

  “Do you see it, too?”

  Kallia instinctively backed up, her shoulder touching his. Her fingers brushing his, until they held on. Done so without thinking, for her eyes remained fixed on the new room that had come to life around them. Her fingers trembled slightly, so he held on to them tighter.

  “Yes,” he rasped out, his voice thick as the room grew clearer and clearer around them. But he didn’t need everything to come into focus to know where he was. He’d been in this room so often, he could walk through it blindfolded.

  The greenhouse at the Ranza Estate.

  Music thrummed against the glass, a slow, muffled beat from the Conquering Circus performing at the heart of Glorian. The same as it did that night, which felt like years ago.

  “How…,” she whispered, finally lowering her gaze to trace the long leaves with glowing veins above their heads, before meeting Daron’s. “How is this possible?”

  “I don’t know. The memories usually find me alone.” They’d tease him until he met the edge of madness before retreating back into reality. For so long, he’d found escape in them. Then dread, like the first taste of sweetness before it became too much. But this one felt different, if it found them both. And transported them back to a time, to a place where his heart last felt full.

  “Same,” she said, the wonder in her voice fading. Like someone who’s been burned one too many times. “But it’s gotten better for me.”

  “Better?”

  “Less frequent,” she clarified. “The more time you spend in the haunted house, the less ghosts haunt you.”

  “You mean the more a ghost you become, in turn.” His teeth clenched. “And then what, you forget your life?”

  “I’ve really only been in two places my whole life, so there’s not much to forget in the grand scheme of things,” she said. “Though I know what it’s like to start over again and again. For memories to shift, and life to change. It’s easier when the slate is clean.”

  She said that now, but the way she looked at her surroundings … it was as if she wanted to remember everything about it. Every sight, every detail. This was a good memory for her, too. For them.

  “What do you do when you see them, then?”

  “I ignore them,” Kallia said on a shrug. “Why, what do you do?”

  Flashes of illusions played in the back of his mind. Kallia and Eva. No surprise they haunted him the most. At first when he saw them, he thought it might be something of a punishment for the way things had gone between them. How wrong he’d been, for what his own memory had taught him.

  “All I’ve ever wanted to do is go back and change everything,” he said softly. “This world only gives half of that wish, so it’s best to take what I can from it. I let them play out to see what it’s trying to tell me. So I can remember every bit of what I might’ve missed before.”

  “Even if it hurts?”

  Daron nodded. “Especially if it hurts.”

  Kallia slipped her hand from his, walked a few steps deeper into the greenhouse. The glow of the plants and haze of moonlight hit her in such a way, he wondered if she might be an illusion. When she turned, her face was full of jewels, her eyes sparkling. Glistening. “You and me,” she said. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt.”

  Mess was an understatement. A mess could be cleaned; it could be fixed. Nothing about what would come next after this felt like a fix to the problem. Maybe to one, but not everything. And Zarose, he wished he could have everything. He wished they could have more time.

  As she looked back at him, she seemed to be memori
zing him the same way he was remembering her. Re-created, in this moment. “Demarco?”

  His throat tightened at the soft way she said his name. “Yes?”

  “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  Something gave way in him. A little pull that released all the steel in his bones and muscles, around his heart, the armor he’d donned since he’d arrived. How heavy it had been, how much it had worn him down. “I don’t want to, either.”

  At that, Kallia offered her truce in a smile. One he would remember for the rest of his life, as she lifted her hand out to him. “Dance with me?”

  The question caught him so off guard, he nearly choked on a laugh. “Wait, what?”

  “That’s how the rest of this goes, isn’t it?” She gestured at the moment all around them. “I asked you to dance.”

  His heart thumped faster as she crooked her finger at him. Waiting. “Come on. Who knows how much longer this will last.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice after that. He went to her, took her offered hand, knowing he would have to let go eventually, but right now, being given a moment felt like more than he’d ever had.

  The room echoed with music from the outside, hitting the glass in slow, descending notes. Kallia straightened her spine, already moving one hand to sit atop his shoulder. Daron gave a quiet, low chuckle as he slid her hand right to the nape of his neck, and pressed his temple against hers. “Closer,” he whispered, right against her ear.

  Now was not the time for proper holds or any space in between. No more distance. He’d felt enough of it, and so had she, for she dropped her hand against his chest, and he covered it with his own. If she couldn’t hear his heartbeat before, he was sure she could feel it now. The nervous, desperate rhythm that wanted nothing more than to stay in one place.

  The last time he’d danced with her at the ball, it had been a series of steps at the music’s command. Brief touches and moments of closeness. This dance was all closeness, all-consuming. Heart to heart, swaying slower and slower until there was hardly any movement at all. Just holding, just standing in one place. In this moment.