was shy—she was never shy. Certainly not around Demarco. They’d simply never spoken without a reason to fight. The absence of one made it harder to string more than three words together.
Yet, at the end of their walk, he asked her to accompany him on another one. And another. Until one day, finally, she snapped. “How much longer will this go on? You ask me to walk with you every day, yet you rarely say anything.”
Smothering a laugh, he cast a sideways glance at her. “Shocking, but you haven’t been the most talkative, either.”
Kallia resisted the urge to punch him. They had only a brief period before the last act, and sooner or later, it would creep up on them. “It doesn’t matter whether or not we’re friends, Demarco. That’s not what this show is about.”
“Wasn’t it not too long ago you’d asked why we couldn’t be friends?”
Her nostrils flared at the memory he’d unearthed with such smug recollection. That was when the two of them had been so wildly unsure of one another, when it was clear he was avoiding her out of some misplaced sense of propriety that felt more like an insult. Though at the moment, she would gladly take the insult over whatever was happening between them now.
“Don’t worry, I’m not asking to be your friend. I’m trying to be your ally,” he drawled. “Which, in case you haven’t noticed, you don’t have very many of.”
Kallia drew in a hard breath. There was no use arguing; it would only prove his point more. “Fine. But let’s lay out some ground rules.”
“What sort of rules?”
“Respect my privacy,” she said. “If I say no questions, I mean it.”
“All right.” He nodded. “As long as you pay me the same respect.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
They glared at each other, unblinking. Both unwilling to look away, as if locked in a challenge. A very petty challenge. It was amusing, the flare of stubborn fire in Demarco; he usually exuded such a reserved and contained demeanor. Not around her.
Despite herself, Kallia felt her lips curl slightly.
So she played his game, and for the rest of the way down the sidewalks, picked his brain on all she could. His thoughts about Spectaculore, the other contestants, the judges he disliked as much as she did. In turn, she gave him her thoughts, soon realizing he was just as guarded as she was, with the things he wouldn’t answer.
For him, it was his magic, his former stage life, or anyone to do with it. The areas Kallia was most curious about, to her dismay. His assistant flooded her mind—a faceless, beautiful woman Kallia had begun imagining the moment Canary had mentioned her. As much as she wanted to learn more about who she was to him, she restrained herself.
“What about your home?” Kallia posed instead. “You said you lived far from here.”
“Tarcana is all the way out east.” Demarco’s strides were slow and relaxed. “Almost an island of its own, with how the ocean hugs our shores.”
“A whole ocean?” Her mind conjured up endless stretches of water. Years ago—before true escape ever entered her mind—she’d foolishly tried venturing into the Dire Woods to reach the ocean’s edge, only to lose herself in the maze of trees and shadows that built her path. One of Sire’s servants had ridden on horseback to retrieve her, and after, she never entered the Woods out of curiosity again. With the mind such easy prey in that forest, it was not worth the risk.
“I take it you’ve never lived near the water?”
The crease in Demarco’s brow drew a shrug from her. “Never seen it.”
The slip revealed too much, but rather than pry, he asked, “Do you want to?”
“Why?” Something warm and nervous settled in Kallia’s chest. “Are you offering me a grand mansion by the sea?”
“I’m not offering anything. But if you win, your talents could bring you all the possibilities in the world. A mansion by the sea—the sea, itself, even.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His compliments were not the usual type she received; they were statements. Facts. He spoke in a way that made everything seem possible. Because he genuinely believed it. “No one can own the sea.”
“I’m sure you’d find a way.”
The way he said it made her almost believe it.
He was good at this. Too good. She couldn’t stop herself from sinking into the pictures he painted of the world. How wonderful it must’ve been, to come into this life with the searing blaze of choice. To practice and learn magic