It lasted barely a second, but it was enough to wring her cold. She jerked away, hitting the back of her head against the wall. Demarco edged forward instinctively, before searching the hallway—empty. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone might see us.”
It struck her, how out in the open they were. Stupid. He stiffened at the realization, but one hand remained at her side. “Can I…” He nodded at her door. “Can I come in?”
Usually Kallia was skilled at composing herself, but that warranted a look. Enough to fluster him. “Oh no, sorry—only to talk, about what just … I think we need to…”
He ran a hand over his face before knotting his fingers in front of him. She marveled at how she once believed him to be made of stone, and how little it took to soften him into such a mess of nerves and uncertainties. There was honesty in it. Gently, she stilled his fingers under her palm, untangling them one by one. Brushing each knuckle, each fingertip.
So easily breakable, if the wrong hands found them.
And so she said nothing, but he read her silence. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” Kallia nodded, tempted to take it back as he played with a thick strand of her hair, touching her so easily. As if he’d been doing it for years.
They glanced down the hall, waiting for signs of movement, before Demarco took her face back in his hands. Kallia should’ve turned away, but instead arched her neck up. Eyes closed in waiting. First, a light brush, deepening as she wound her arms around him. Her nails scratched behind his neck, a surprisingly vulnerable place from the sound he made, and she wondered if she’d ever get used to it.
When he pulled back, he tilted his head at her with a lazy smile, pressing it once to the grin forming on her face.
“Good night, Kallia,” he said, and backed toward his room. Unhurried.
Tomorrow. She would see him tomorrow.
Kallia closed her door behind her with a soft click, the fluttering in her heart quieting as the darkness swept over her. Silent, save for the nightly wind rattling against the windowpanes above her and Aaros’s beds.
“It’s bad luck to keep dying flowers.”
Everything blackened in an instant. Gone was the sun. In here, came the night. Waiting, Jack towered by her vanity, looking curiously at the covered mirror before assessing the old cloth she always kept by it.
“It’s just a piece of fabric,” she snapped, hoping he wouldn’t touch it.
“It used to look different.” A long pause, contemplative. “Years back. Like a rosebud, blooming. Now, it’s…”
For once, he didn’t sound bitter. Only sad, which riled her up more. He was at the heart of this darkness, after all. A player in this game. The master of it.
“It’s changed ever since things started going wrong here.” Kallia’s nostrils flared. How dare he stand there as though he didn’t enjoy every moment of tonight. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s where you’re mistaken,” he said, absent. “Things have always been wrong here.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
His entire face sharpened, the restraint apparent in the lines of his jaw. He looked up from the vanity, and turned. “You need to stay away from him.”
Her cheeks flamed. Panic pulsed through her, at what he must’ve seen outside her door. What she must’ve looked like now. Still, there was no anger to him. His quiet unnerved her more than any rage he could’ve released.
“Is that all you came here to say?” she bit out. “Of everything that’s happening, you fixate on that?”
“He’s made you weak,” he said, tone clipped. “And it’ll only get worse. You can’t even see that he’s lying to you.”
Kallia didn’t want to listen. Everything he said was a poison entering the air. “You’re one to talk. This story sounds all too familiar.”
His jaw clenched. “Then you should be wise enough to listen. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
“Enlighten me, then,” she said. “Because all I see in my way is you.”
“That’s all you want to see.” He stepped closer, cutting through the shadows. “It’s easier to hate me, blame me for everything that goes wrong. Every missing magician must be my doing. Every terrible accident is undeniably by my hand.”
The words were grossly familiar to the ones she’d spat in the mayor’s face earlier, and she hated the sound of them being thrown back at her. She circled a table to let it divide them, refusing to be cornered.
“Why? Because I’m the only monster you’ve ever known,” he continued, undeterred. “What you