corners of time. Lost, until it was nothing more than a lie. The people of Glorian who regarded her with scorn would rather see her weak than dare admit she was stronger than them. Even with the evidence right in their faces.
“You’re suggesting history and public opinion have been manipulated,” Kallia deadpanned. “That’s ironic coming from someone called the Poison of the Press.”
“I never lie for my own benefit.” Lottie tossed back her hair. “I don’t frame facts I don’t like as silly myths meant to amuse my readers.”
“Then I hope they’re ready. Because I’m a far cry from some silly, little myth. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The woman’s face brushed with a hint of sadness. “That’s what I’m hoping,” she said. “When I heard about Spectaculore, I thought for a small town removed from society, an experimental show couldn’t hurt. That was until Raz told me about you, and the accidents. The disappearances.”
“You think they’re connected? Those were male magicians.”
“The show isn’t over yet, Kallia.”
Cold seeped into her blood as a round of applause scattered freely into the night. Usually the sound comforted her, but each clap pricked at her hard enough to draw blood. Just like everything this woman said, everything she was implying. “Miss de la Rosa, no matter how many people want me gone, I’m not going to just disappear. I’m not exactly defenseless.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about your power. But even shields can double as targets.”
Resentment flared through Kallia. “How could you even understand? You’re not a magician.” A hot wave of embarrassment trickled beneath her skin when she remembered the notepad hidden from view. “You’re only out to catch your next big story.”
“How soulless of me, for doing my job. But I chase stories based on facts that don’t add up, and I’ve been following this one for years.” Lottie’s lips pursed. “And I might understand you better than you think. You’re not the first magician I’ve tried to warn, and at the rate you and this show are going, you probably won’t be the last.”
37
The sounds of the circus sank through the walls of the Ranza Estate, dulled from a distance. Trumpets blaring, drums booming, laughter and gleeful shrieks piercing the air.
A splatter hit Daron’s shoe. Wet seeping in. Jerking back, he tipped up the rusted watering can, aiming it toward the line of pots again. Normally, maintaining the greenhouse calmed his nerves, the last few days of orders and preparation keeping him busy. The final shipment of plants arrived just this morning, the last piece to the picture he’d envisioned the moment he first saw this room.
There were times when he thought about asking for Aaros’s opinion, and even more times where he knew he’d regret it from the potential jokes alone.
More than ever, he wished he could ask Eva. She wouldn’t even have to see the room. She’d take one look at his face and know exactly what to say.
Just show her, Dare.
Just tell her.
Except he hadn’t talked to Kallia in days, didn’t trust himself the more his mind replayed her falling to the ground, his palms burning. That hopelessness in his veins came back raw even now. He’d hurt her, and he’d never loathed his magic more.
A hard thump sounded outside, snapping Daron to attention. He set the watering can down and rushed out. Only he ever stayed at the building this late. And with the circus going on every night, there were certainly far better things for outsiders to do than break into an old manor.
Daron hurried over the dust-ridden floors, past cobwebs laced between the rusted, round lamps dotting the walls, faltering when he recognized her. Unsure if he were dreaming. “What are you doing here?”
Kallia absently traced the table propped against the wall. “I could be asking you the same thing.” Her finger resurfaced with a mound of dust. “Nice work you’ve been doing.”
He scratched behind his ear. “I just cleaned that the other day.”
A lie. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been keeping a slower pace, enjoying the sight of the halls ever-riddled with cobwebs and stretches of paint-dotted canvas they’d forgotten to put away. They were reminders of work still to be done. It meant there was still time.
“Dust never goes away.” Kallia pulled her hair back, winding it around her finger. “No matter how often you wipe it clean, it always comes back.”
He stared at the finger that kept twirling her hair, taking in her face. Hardened and cool as always, but some sadness glimmered