When Night Breaks

by Janella Angeles

  At some point, as the music began to fade from their ears, the brilliance of the greenhouse growing fainter by the second, everything inside him began to lock up. Her body tensed against his, as he felt her face lift from his chest, staring over his shoulder, her expression somber. Unsurprised.

  Like an act in a show, the moment was drawing to an end. No matter how much they played into it, hoping to prolong it.

  “You were right,” she said. “This does hurt.”

  Daron nodded, inhaling deeply. “It’s a good memory, though. They’re rarely kind like that.”

  As Kallia watched the greenhouse vanish around them and the mirror shop reappear beneath, she wondered when the next illusion of memory might find her. If they would even come back at all. At what point did she completely lose the pieces of her old life still clinging to her?

  Did she want them to?

  At the thought, Kallia stepped back from his hold, noticing almost instantly, the greenhouse disappeared. She couldn’t be swayed this easily. Not by a memory that felt too good. By the one right in front of her who, just moments ago, would do anything to change her mind.

  “Nothing has changed, Demarco,” she said, resolute. “Not you, not this.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, at the mirrors he’d become so familiar with over the past few days, that suddenly felt like they didn’t belong there. “I know.”

  “I’m still staying. And you’re going.”

  Why did she have to keep saying it? He knew he would not be able to change her mind. He never could.

  Daron closed his eyes for a hard second. “I know.”

  As his heart thumped, a waiting silence stretched between them. As though she hadn’t expected him to bend so easily. “All right, then,” she said in a clipped tone, squaring back her shoulders as she began turning for the door. “It’s time for me to finally—”

  She’d barely had time to turn before he took her wrist again and pulled her back. Not harshly or forcefully, as were the grips she’d become used to in this world, but just firm enough that should she want to break free, she could. Even as he brought her close against him, faces breaths apart.

  “You said you were staying,” he said. “So stay.”

  His eyes seared into hers so quietly, so intensely, she had to look down for a moment. “Please. Don’t make this any harder.”

  “It’s already hard, Kallia.” Sorrow carved into the lines of his brow. “One day, a long time from now, you might even forget me.” As he said it, he brought his hand to the side of her face, fingers in her hair. “You will move on.”

  It was true. The way the Diamond Rings rarely dwelled on the past, as if it were a fleeting dream. Just ships passing as you moved further than the sea itself, off the map onto somewhere uncharted. Everything about the true side would become like that for her, in time. When time no longer felt like a measure of anything anymore.

  “Then why do you want me to stay?” she asked, her nerves jumping as his touch skated down her neck. “You won’t forget as easily. It’s cruel to you.”

  “I want you to stay because I don’t want to forget. I want memories. And I don’t have nearly enough with you,” he rasped out. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

  Not on fighting. Not on searching. Their time on this side of the world would be even briefer than their time on the other. He didn’t want to think of it, but it was the truth. She would not be leaving with him, even though she should. Even though she deserved a way out more than anyone he knew. He felt that deep inside.

  One moment she was just looking at him, memorizing him as though she would find some way to hold this moment in her mind with all that she could.

  The next, she was kissing him.

  At first, all he felt was pain. The ache in his chest unfurled like a fan of a knife, scraping beneath his collarbones. And then her hand speared into his hair and tugged him closer, though not an inch of space existed between them. Every hurt melted into warmth, gathering all around him.

  “Wait, Herald.” She spoke against his lips, breathless. “Won’t he be coming bac—”

  “Not tonight.” Daron couldn’t be more grateful that all remained around them were darkened mirrors, the city lights flashing in slivers through their windows.

  Through his daze, he hitched her legs against him, carrying her to his makeshift room. He pulled back the curtain, for that’s all that separated him from the rest of the shop, baring the small cot of a mattress and a gathering of blankets. The sight instantly stilled him, doused him in cold water.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. Cheeks flaring. She’d lived in the Alastor Place, a palace of a home where she no doubt rested on silks and satins. He never could offer her any of those riches she so deserved. “I know it’s not much—”

  “Demarco, shut up and just put me down.” Her lips found his again, restless and frantic.

  He spoke no more as he closed the curtain behind him.

  No more memories came to life around them, though Daron swore he felt exactly as he did when they were back in Glorian in the Ranza Estate they knew, on the floor with his jacket spread out beneath them. They hadn’t waited then. He had asked again and again—are you sure, is this okay, tell me if—until she pulled him to her, laughing against his lips before they found another rhythm. So impatient, they were, anytime they were together. Careful, but impatient.

  Tonight, he was determined to go slow. So he could remember.

  The arch of her back. The fall of her lips. The bite of her grip when their breaths stilled. The way she urged him to go where she wanted him, spoke to him as he spoke to her. Whispers into kisses, gasps against skin. Each sensation, a memory worth keeping.

  He stopped trying to track every moment.

  He knew, without even trying anymore, that he would remember all of this.

  * * *

  She wasn’t sleeping. Neither could he. Against his chest, she felt his breath rise and fall, calm yet intentional. It had been a while before their hearts slowed to a normal rhythm, though if she were being honest with herself, her pulse still raced. As if it refused to be complacent, when all she wished to do was rest like this.

  “I have a question.”

  She lifted her head almost immediately, her eyes sleepy and warm. “What?”

  “Why do you call me Demarco?” he asked. “You rarely use my first name, and I’ve always wondered why.”

  “I called you Daron tonight. Many times.”

  He squared her with a look, heat slicing through her. “I’m serious.”

  Kallia’s hand slid up to his jaw, to the side of his face, her fingers thumbing the strands of rough dark hair that curled by his ears. “I don’t know. Habit, I guess,” she said. “You were such a strange puzzle to me from the start that I didn’t want to look any closer.”

  “Now that’s a lie.”

  “Maybe.” She smirked. “Daron still feels like a rare name to me. I can’t just throw it anywhere. But Demarco, I can toss wherever. I’ve walked with Demarco, fought with him, performed with him—”

  “Hated him.”

  Kallia ignored him, shaking her head. “I’m happy to use both, but I met Demarco first. So I’ll always know that name best,” she said. “And I did not hate you. I just didn’t know you.”

  The answer had not disappointed, from the way his brow curved in amusement.

  “Also, you’re one to talk,” she countered. “You weren’t exactly happy to see me every time I walked into the room.”

  Demarco remained silent for too long, and when she looked up at his evasive expression, she smacked him in the arm. “Now I know you’re lying.”

  “Maybe happy isn’t the word,” he relented. “But part of me always looked forward to seeing you. Even when we fought.”

  Kallia enjoyed the idea of him lighting up inside every time she walked by. She’d been so focused on winning Spectaculore, she’d hardly noticed the finer details of those around her. Though dee
p down, she’d always been hyperaware of Demarco whenever he was in the same room as her. She didn’t know when it had started, but as soon as it did, that feeling never went away.

  Never. Always. She had to stop thinking in absolutes. It would only make everything harder.

  She laced her fingers within his, memorizing the look of them. The warmth.

  “Demarco?”

  “Yes, Kallia?”

  The way he said her name, the only one he knew her by, touched every nerve inside her. “I’m happy you’re here,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming back for me.”

  He shifted so that she was pressed even more snugly against him. “You don’t need to thank me. I really didn’t do it alone.” He shrugged, his lips on the edge of a sly smile. “I … I had some help from a few friends.”

  “Friends, you say?” She remembered what she’d seen in the mirror, the people she’d never imagine banding together all sitting in the café at the Prima. Aaros, Lottie, Canary, and the Conquering Circus. Even Ira. She’d seen enough of them in illusions, and out of survival, done her best, not sparing anyone a thought. What use was there, when she had no option to return to any of it?

  “Kallia,” he said softly, noting the shift in the air. “Do you want to talk about it, now?”

  His heart beat in her ears, a slow and steady thumping. The most at peace she’d felt in a long time. “Will you tell me everything?”

  “Only if you will, too.”

  They talked to stretch the night into many more, until their voices were half-gone, their eyes heavy. But their stories kept them awake, and they told them to each other until the end.

  40

  A sharp rustle shook Daron awake.

  His eyes shot open, and he nearly braced himself for the glaring morning sunlight, but this world held none of that. Only slivers of city light, peeking through the windows. Through the half-opened curtain partitioning off his space, he noticed her standing by a mirror, combing her fingers through her hair.

  “You’re already up?” And dressed. Which meant she would not be staying. He tamped down the surge of disappointment and sat up.

  “I need to get back to the others. They’re probably worried sick about me.”

  He ran a hand down his face, forcing himself to wake up. To stand up. He didn’t want her leaving without getting a good look at her. She continued fixing her hair as he approached her and noticed the top button of her dress had been left undone. Without another thought, he came up right against her, slipping the tiny button through the loop before dropping a kiss to the back of her neck.

  Her gaze finally met his in the mirror. In time, his arms wound their way around her, and she leaned back slightly, settling against him. They didn’t speak. As if falling into this comfortable silence would be enough. He didn’t want to fight with her or make matters worse, not in this peace.

  On a deep exhale, Kallia tilted back toward the mirror for one last look before stepping away from her reflection. “I have to go,” she said. “Herald will probably be here any moment now.”

  It was bad of Daron, but he hadn’t spared Herald one thought since they’d arrived in the shop. He could’ve walked right in, and Daron wouldn’t have noticed. “When will I see you again?”

  As if she could sense his apprehension, she squared him with an amused look before pulling his face down. “Tonight,” she said against his lips. “I’ll come back.”

  “I’ll check my schedule.” He angled his mouth over hers, deepening what was meant to be a brief brush. A small peck. No more half-measures.

  He could feel her smile, her shudder of a breath as he pressed his lips down the slope of her neck, her laugh as she finally tore from him. Reluctantly. Her cheeks were flushed as she made her way to the door, looking back every so often with that reprimanding glint in her eye.

  Zarose.

  His breath locked in his chest, trapping his heart until she finally closed the door behind her.

  He immediately changed back into his day clothes, fixing his appearance should Herald wander back in. He was almost hoping for it.

  There had to be another way.

  Countless times, Daron had been told finding Kallia would be impossible. That coming here would be impossible. Journeying through the Dire Woods had been impossible. Hell, long ago, he’d thought coming to Glorian would be next to impossible. He didn’t know what Kallia knew of this world. She’d been here longer, known its rules longer, was told those rules could never be bent. But from experience, he knew there was always another way. There had to be another way.

  Everything that’s now possible was once deemed impossible.

  Why not this?

  He wasn’t leaving. Not yet.

  The heaviness lifted from his bones as he peeked through the curtains at the bustling streets, people still recovering or staggering from the revelry of the night before. Herald wasn’t among them, but Daron hoped to catch him in the crowd soon. Before seeing Kallia again tonight, he needed a plan. He couldn’t just boldly march without direction as he’d done before. It had gotten him this far, but not without trouble. He needed to know more about this world before trying to bend the rules of it, and Herald would no doubt offer any bit of knowledge if it might—

  At the abrupt sound of the door opening, Daron all but leapt to the front of the store. He hadn’t felt this much energy in ages, and it only heightened as he recognized Herald standing right at the threshold. “Finally, you’re back!” he said, waiting for him to shut the door before coming any closer. “Where have you…”

  The question drifted off Daron’s lips as he realized Herald wasn’t making any effort to shut the door to the outside, for he wasn’t alone. Another figure loomed behind, and Daron instinctively took a step back, his heart slowing as the other magician shoved Herald inside the shop before giving the place a predatory look over.

  “Demarco,” Jack said by way of cold greeting. He looked just as he had on the night of Spectaculore. Polished as a pistol, ready to shoot in the suit as dark as the triangles upon his hands. And his eyes were now a storm at night, all darkness. Nothing human at all. Unlike him, Herald was a mess. The sleeve of his shirt torn, hair in disarray, the hint of swelling by his eye. Most of all, the look in his eye was different. A quiet panic that seemed ill-fitting on the magician he’d come to know.

  “What do you want?” Daron demanded, pulse racing. “Are you all right, Herald?”

  At that, Jack laughed. “Oh, that’s sweet. An unlikely friendship.”

  The world began shrinking around Daron, and anytime it did that, it meant something was wrong. Something was off. And it was far too late to fix any of it.

  The way Kallia had spoken of Jack, with grudging respect and a softness he couldn’t understand, made Daron think he could be more or less trusted. Maybe not with everything, but where Kallia’s best interests were, at least. Daron should’ve trusted that doubt spiraling in his gut, the one that foresaw the cold smug smile on the man in front of him who looked as though he’d stumbled upon a hunt he’d been looking forward to for the longest time.

  “Alas, I am here under orders,” Jack continued, snapping his fingers. Two devils walked through the door and took Daron by the elbows. “There’s a dangerous magician out on the loose, causing all this chaos and mayhem. Roth’s out for her blood, and I hear you’re connected to her.”

  Daron’s stomach dropped.

  “You all made it almost too easy,” Jack said as the shadows gripped Daron by the wrists, the ankles—the coldest smoke slithering over him like a chain, before one wrapped its claws around his eyes.

  And all went dark.

  41

  Kallia walked the streets of Glorian, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. The dreamlike state consumed her as she walked back to her room to the amused looks of servants taking in her bedraggled appearance, and took off all her makeup and show clothes with a loose grin she couldn’t shake. For so long, she’d kept herself wrapped tig
ht as a fist, hardened in survival mode. It had been so long since she felt like she could rest. Like she could take comfort in the light again.

  It would make everything that much harder. It hurt now, to think of Demarco’s face hovering over hers in the dark, knowing their time was far too limited. That one day, she would forget that face in the dark, smiling over hers, and this ache in her heart would fade in time, too.

  Today, she would shove it all out of mind. It was tomorrow’s problem.

  For now, she would allow herself to smile.

  When she made her way to the ruins of the Ranza Estate, her grin widened as relieved gasps burst from inside the burnt house.

  “Holy shit, you’re alive!” Malice gave her a tight hug before shooting her a smug look.”And looking extremely well-rested.”

  Ruthless slapped the girl in the arm. “Don’t make fun!”

  “Yes, shut up. Please,” Vain interjected, folding her arms as she got a better look at Kallia. “Glad you found the note. When you didn’t answer your door, I got worried.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Malice cackled, for which Ruthless slapped her in the back of the head.

  For the life of her, Kallia did not want to meet Vain’s eye, possibly ever again. Though when the headliner nudged her foot to look up, Vain only shook her head with a hint of a smile. “No details, or I will kill you.”

  At that, the two other Diamond Rings whined while Kallia returned the smile. “Deal.”

  The last thing she wanted was to talk to Vain about her brother. And yet, Kallia was still curious about what sort of conversation they’d had together, and if they were able to mend the distance. Demarco had been very tight-lipped about it, as he often was, but that still didn’t hinder her curiosity in the slightest.

  Still, it could be a conversation for another time.

  “Why are we here today?” Kallia looked around them. It had been so long since they’d last stepped foot on these grounds, back when she could hardly freeze an illusion from slamming right into her face.