Where Dreams Descend - Janella Angeles Page 0,100

this competition really so important to you?”

She threw him a withering glare. “After all this—every bad name I’ve been called, every accusation—how could it not be?”

“You don’t need to prove anything to them, Kallia. It’s…” He struggled to find the right words. “It’s a silly competition in an old city that’s lost its place on the map. Nothing more.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve had your years of spotlight. I’m fighting for days.”

“Surely you know your talents would be far more appreciated in a bigger pond,” he insisted. “You don’t need to waste energy on a small-time show like this.”

“Every step to the top counts. And please, don’t patronize me.” Kallia’s jaw hardened. “Make no mistake, I know I don’t have to prove a single thing to them. What matters most is what I prove to myself. Giving up would be an insult to everything I know I’m capable of. And I’ve already come this far.”

A different light entered her eyes. Her ambition, laid bare. A flash of the armor she wore every day. Not her usual strutting around like she couldn’t care less—but the truth, her wanting this more than he’d ever seen someone want anything.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Daron flushed, averting his stare. “Like what?”

Kallia crossed her arms tightly. “Come on. You’re more perceptive than that. Even I’ve figured that out about you.”

The way she said it worried him. With the kind of knowing only a friend would show, and the strangeness of it struck him. He’d lost so many friends in the past. It had been easier to shake blokes he’d partied with for years than a girl he’d known for a short time. She was one frayed tie that refused to be cut, and wanted this victory enough to put up with him.

No. From the look in her eyes, she needed it.

Daron blew out a tired sigh. “I won’t have to dance, will I?”

The stern line of her lips twitched. “Dancing the first night was to get their attention. Parading myself around like that a second time would be overdoing it.”

“But don’t you like dancing?”

“Love it. Especially if I can use it to my advantage.”

“Never without strategy, I’ll give you that much.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she preened, moving out of his way as he exited the row. “You won’t even have to lift a finger.”

This was exactly what she wanted: to be given the reins of an act without much standing in her way. Daron couldn’t have asked for a better scenario, yet he found himself saying, “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Shut up.

What are you doing?

“Really?” Kallia’s shoulders sagged. “After everything, now you want to help?”

“Do you want another disastrous incident? Because I don’t think it will win you any points.” Why couldn’t he be quiet? The more his thoughts warred, the more his traitorous side spoke. “You probably have some large, flashy spectacle planned that’s full of risks, but I will not be content to stand there as some prop mentor who approved it all.”

“So what then, Judge Demarco?” Kallia huffed. “I’ve never seen an unwilling mentor so eager to have his say.”

“Even as a reluctant mentor, I have things I can teach you.”

“What sort of tricks?” She tilted her head in interest. “Like from last night? Teach me what that was, and maybe I’ll—”

“No.” Daron swallowed, heart thrumming fast. “No tricks, no magic. Not from me at least.”

“Then what else is there?”

For all of his hesitation, he wanted to offer her something of value. He could teach her moderation, how to dispense her energies more deliberately rather than exhausting them. There were many ways to be impressive, and they didn’t all have to be charged with power. The unexpected worked just as well.

“Only one way to find out,” he said.

Kallia’s eyes flashed, considering. “Maybe you won’t be such a prop after all.”

28

It had to be a dream.

Kallia entered her greenhouse, sunlight beaming through the windows. She strolled among flowers she didn’t recognize. Those with fire for petals, plants with slowly beating wings, leaves curling off vines that dripped with perfume. The fragrances of smoke and roses and the winter’s chill, swirling her senses.

Through the thick of green and shadows, someone waited.

A stranger.

As she drew nearer, the greenhouse dimmed. The fire petals’ flames turned to gray in the changing light, as the warmth from the sun overhead slid into moonlight across the leaf-strewn floor. Kallia shivered.

A muffled beat sounded, reverberating through the glass until it shook. Her ears popped at

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