and roots. A quieter area than the others, at the edge of the community. There was a peace to the way this part of Glorian existed behind the pack.
“It was the only space I could reserve for us.” Daron scratched the back of his neck. Sweat gathered against the collar of his shirt.
“What about the circus tents?” Kallia suggested. “They did say they didn’t mind us using their space when—”
“We’re not using the tents.” Not where there were people, watching. “We need a place where no one will bother us.”
His excuses sounded weak to his ears. Soon enough, it would all unravel. Already, he felt the threads pulling loose from his fingers, unsure how much longer it would take for her to see.
Realization flickered in Kallia’s eyes. He braced himself, but she merely threw her head back and scoffed. “Embarrassed to be seen with me, Demarco?”
“What?” He blinked. “Of course not.”
Tell her. His pulse pounded out the words, again and again.
Tell her.
“Good.” With a pleased nod, she skipped up the stone steps to the front door as though entering a still grand, dazzling mansion. If anything, she seemed more drawn to the structure’s ruinous state. What appealed to Daron was its solitude. He welcomed it, all too eager to escape Glorian’s scrutiny each time he and Kallia embarked on their walks, journeying up to their rooms together—never mind that they were neighbors, to which Kallia only replied, “There’s no use in convincing a crowd what to believe. Let them think what they will.”
He wished he had her armor. Years of performing steeled him when it was only his name to look out for. Now, the rumors cut harsher. Were he paired with any other magician, no one would think anything of it. The rumors would not be as fast-taking as fire, and it rankled him, how they targeted her. How the eyes that followed saw something that wasn’t there. That couldn’t be.
Kallia pushed through the front doors, a heavy, rusty groan emanating as they swung forward. Without looking back, she took off.
“Would you … careful!” Daron called after her silhouette, which bounded through the archways and into the open courtyard. While the estate could do with a grand renovation like the Alastor Place, it had withered with all the remaining beauty of an aging rose. Petals ashy gray, the stem brittle and dry, yet from a first glance, it had bloomed beautifully once upon a time.
Kallia’s shadowed form found light as she walked briskly to the center of the small courtyard opening. Statues of dancing figures surrounded her like a band of guardians, framed by marble archways gray with age.
“Look at these statues—this fountain,” she remarked, taking in the splendor. “This must’ve been a wading or wishing pool of some sort, once.”
“Then get out of it.” Daron leaned against one of the columns while she continued strutting proudly in the middle of the bare courtyard.
“It’s not a pool now. It probably hasn’t seen water for quite some time.” She stepped out from the ring of statues with a graceful twirl. “This could make a good practice space, don’t you think?”
The wind ruffled her hair while she spun, stopping gradually in a grand ringmaster’s stance. Her laugh breathless, eyes alight.
Daron’s throat clenched.
Stop. His heart skipped a heavy beat, running faster than it should. Even as time slowed.
Thunder crackled in the skies above, as if answering the lightning flash of Kallia’s smile. Unfurling her hands like flower petals opening to the sun, her palms raised to catch the drops beginning to fall. At first they sprinkled the dry stone around her, before the drops thickened, spotting her dress and her hair.
Only when the rain intensified to a harsh chorus did Daron gesture pointedly. “Unless you can somehow control the weather, too, come inside. You’ll be soaked.”
“You think I dance under the rain to stay dry?”
She looked up at him then, gathering the ends of hair that had stuck to her neck. It truly didn’t bother her—not as much as it was bothering him. The scowl on his face must’ve appeared most unamused, for Kallia relented and ducked under the cover with him.
With a shiver, a chuckle, she said, “Is there any other sound quite like it?”
He tried not to focus too much on the smell of her, mixed with the rain that hit his cheek as she tossed back her hair. “What?”
“It sounds different here.” She half-shrugged and squeezed the ends dry. “I know rain as it hits the trees, how it