pair wove past bodies moving in a slow procession, observing each performer standing on display, proud as art. The Starling twins had taken their places on two pedestals directly across from each other, connected by only the thinnest tightrope that made them appear as if they were walking on air. Rova, the animal tamer, strolled between the platforms with Aya, for whom everyone parted a wide, cautious path. Laughter rang into the air, accompanied by disbelieving gasps and quick inhales. The lively percussion and the sharp strings joining in song.
“All shows should be like this,” she mused, looping her arm tighter within Demarco’s. Warm and content. “Loud and unpredictable, always moving. If Spectaculore were more like this, Glorian would be saved in a heartbeat.”
“Or ruined, according to them.” He nodded up ahead at a dour group standing amid the chaos. In the center, Mayor Eilin crossed his arms, refusing to look up as if there were nothing to see.
Kallia and Demarco smirked knowingly at each other. Jokes rarely slipped through the stern line of his lips, but when they did, it gratified her every time. “Regardless, tonight was a success,” she said. “If only every performance night were this exciting.”
“Yes, but there’s more to life than performing.” Demarco angled his head at her. “What do you enjoy doing when you’re off the stage? That is, if you have other hobbies.”
“Of course I do. I’m not completely obsessed.” Kallia bit her tongue in thought. Naturally the moment she needed a quick answer, they abandoned her. “I love to dance.”
“Also performance-related.”
“Fine.” Kallia gritted her teeth. She hadn’t realized how much her life revolved around performing until now, how little a life she had outside of it. “I used to tend to my own greenhouse.”
Demarco’s brow lifted a little. She’d never told anyone, not even Aaros. It was a piece of home to keep tucked away. Her life at the House, fading at the edges bit by bit. Still, the greenhouse had been the one thing she wished she could bring, the one place that remained so clear in her mind.
“It was always the place I loved most, aside from the stage,” she murmured. “Every morning, I’d walk through, just to water the flowers or sit on the rooftop. There was something about being alone there, it was—”
“Quiet,” he finished softly. “Which flower was your favorite?”
“Can’t tell you all my secrets, can I? Besides, it’s my turn.”
The abrupt look of dread on Demarco’s face was laughable. She paused, tapping a deliberating finger against her lip. “Your family comes from the Patrons. The most honorable group of magicians, and yet you never talk about them … why?”
It had been on her mind. She just assumed everyone else knew more about Demarco than her, so no one felt the need to ask. Still, for someone with so great a family behind him, it was like he had none at all from the way he carried himself. The way his face fell, now. “I don’t really keep in much contact with them.”
“Really?” Kallia wondered who penned all those letters she found him reading most mornings. “Why would you not want to talk to your family?”
A breath. Sharp, yet not unexpected. “No questions.”
“Seriously?”
“We agreed.”
“Yes but…”
“Think of it this way—would you answer it, if the question were turned on you?”
He knew what she’d say. What she wouldn’t, more precisely. “Fine. No family talk. Clearly it’s not a subject either of us enjoys delving into.”
Demarco gave a discernible sigh of relief. An irritating sound. It was the first shut door he presented that she was tempted enough to crack open just to see how far she could go.
It itched at her, how much she wanted to know.
How much she wanted to know him.
As if she couldn’t be bothered, she pulled his jacket close around her and led them deeper into the wilds of the circus where there was no more space for talking. No more questions about the world outside of this.
31
There was only so much stalling Daron could get away with before they had to start practicing. All the other pairings had already staked out the spaces closest to the hotel and performance area. The Alastor Place, the Fravardi Mansion, the Vierra District. All corners of the city occupied, except for the one farthest from the Alastor Place. A ruin in and of itself, just like much of Glorian.
“The Ranza Estate?” Kallia’s nose scrunched up. They approached a wide, crumbling building of sun-kissed brick hugged by dried vines