“No,” he muttered, haunted. “Let’s not bring magic into this.”
“I think it’s about damn time we did.” She crooked a finger that sent a chair from the other room sailing at his feet.
Demarco went rigid. “Really?”
“You started it.”
“And you’re making it worse.” He sidestepped the chair, but it followed. Effectively keeping him in place. “I’m not going to play this game.”
“Seems like you’re the one playing games.” Kallia circled him, keeping her finger raised like a maestro orchestrating the screeches and scratches of the chair’s legs. “Tell me, what exactly did I do to make you so frantic to leave?”
Tell me, so I can fix it.
So I can get you to stay.
The thoughts clawed against her throat, but she shoved them away. She already looked desperate enough chasing after him. The last thing he needed was to see more of her frayed edges.
“You didn’t do anything.” Demarco exhaled. “It’s me. I thought I could do this, but it’s … I should’ve ended this long ago. It’s not right.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, and still, he refused to look at her. Except for quick glances to see she was still there. Shocked to find she was.
That enflamed her. What reason did he have to doubt her? Every walk, she’d accompanied him. Every talk, she’d brought questions. Even this cleaning of the Ranza Estate was one she’d readily brought supplies to.
Kallia had been nothing if not committed to making it work so she could win.
So they could win.
“If you thought this was such a bad idea, why entertain it?” She wanted so badly to punch him in the back. Get him to turn around. “Why work with me, make me believe I can win, only to run off for no bloody reason?”
“You can win. And you will,” he said. “But not with me.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to win this as much as I do. You’d be lying.”
“Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think, Kallia.”
Something snapped inside her. Whether it was his assumption, or his dismissal, everything in his tone, Kallia finally pushed back.
It was like hitting at a boulder, but his muscles practically jumped under his skin. “Did you just … push me?”
“I’d slap you if I could, but you won’t even look at me.” Her hand vibrated at the contact. Shaking, yet the trembling would not reach her voice. “I know you better than you think, and it’s all your fault.”
With the next push, her fingertips sparked with a small shock. Harmless, yet helpfully annoying as they met his back, exhibiting a grunt from him.
“Stop that!”
“Make me,” she seethed. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”
Like prey under the predator’s gaze, he didn’t move, stayed frustratingly quiet. Rather than push him like before, she raked her fingers down his back, sending a light current that jolted his spine straight.
“Kallia,” he growled through his teeth, not at all in pain. She was playing with him, and he was letting her.
“Ah. I know why you’re worried,” she mused, dancing her fingers by his neck. “And I don’t think it has anything to do with being an unfit teacher at all. Don’t be shy. It’s me, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Liar.” She traced a finger from one of his tense shoulders to the other. “Afraid I’ll overshadow you and your great reputation? Wouldn’t be the first magician who’d think so.”
He swallowed hard.
“Or do you fear me in a different way?” Her whisper went low. “An improper way? Afraid they all might see, or that I might even—”
Demarco twisted around, grabbing both of her wrists before they could tease some more—and for a moment, Kallia forgot how to yield magic, how to even blink, as he gripped her.
As soon as their hands met, light shone between them. A burning white, like a spark to the smaller shocks she’d delivered to him, that showed the sweat at his temples, the shadows beneath his panicked eyes.
Everything before Kallia began dissolving at the edges.
Her vision, her thoughts, muddling against the light.
Her knees buckled forward as a shout came over her.
33
No, no, no.
Daron caught Kallia before she fell. Her head lolled to the side, breaths shuddered. Still awake, still alive.
Still crumpled in his arms.
His heart was racing. Just like that, he was back on that stage. Every fear, every taste of panic when he saw only himself reflected in the broken pieces of mirror.
Do something. Do anything.
“No.” Shaking, Daron cupped her face, pressing below her jaw for a pulse. “Wake up. Please wake up.”