flame-eater knocked back a hearty gulp from her cup, shuddering afterward. “Also, you’re one to talk. You don’t look any better than me.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean that as kindly as possible. Something isn’t right.” Canary spoke into a yawn, observing her. “Everything about you seems … smaller, somehow.”
“I’m fine.” Kallia concentrated on the black liquid steaming the edges of her cup. The first few nights, she’d stayed up with the Conquerors as they wound down with a few drinks and some music around a silver bonfire. Of late, she returned to her hotel room, too exhausted to even change before hitting the mattress, escaping into dreams to rid this heaviness hanging over her.
Every trick was a trial, and nothing was worse than someone noticing.
“You want to know why I really dropped out of the academy?”
Canary stared pensively into her cup, letting the steam swirl against her face. “I actually thought I could do it all on my own, and I’m not even that skilled a magician.”
Her voice was not the same as it usually was amongst the Conquerors. Loud, boisterous, on the edge of laughter. A leader’s gaiety, to lift any low spirits. But this softness struck Kallia all the more, the rareness of it. “You made it, though, right?” she supplied. “You run the Conquerors.”
“I run with the Conquerors,” she corrected. “Nothing can be done alone. Nothing worthwhile, anyway.”
“But what if you want to make it alone? To prove something to yourself?”
“And what exactly are you proving?” Canary countered. “You don’t often find good people in this business, but when you do, it’s precious. Nearly impossible.”
Impossible. She’d been lucky then, to find them as she did. When she first walked through the gates of Glorian, nothing had felt right until she met Aaros. Her nights had been empty, until she found Canary and the Conquerors.
And Demarco.
Her heart gripped. For so long she’d envisioned only herself on the stage, an image that always kept her going: basking in the spotlight, hearing her name and cheers over everything else.
Strange how applause was just noise, when you were all alone.
“Boss?”
At the sudden snap of fingers, Kallia blinked awake. In the Prima. It took her a moment to place herself sometimes. Glorian often felt like a blur now, of firelight and endless cheers, to hospital visits and circus tents deadened under daylight. Before it was Canary, but now Aaros sipped at his coffee across from her, his eyes piercing her over the rim.
“I can’t take this anymore.” He set his cup down with a clatter. “It’s only been a few days and it feels like the parents are fighting.”
She blinked wearily. “We’re not fighting.”
“No, you’re not talking.” His frown deepened. “You’re not trying to do anything.”
If only he knew. As a friend, Aaros was relatively safe. Jack hadn’t brought him up as a threat in any way. And selfishly, she was not ready to give him up. To lose anyone else.
Even though he could still annoy the guts out of her.
“Sure, take his side,” Kallia snarled.
“Listen, we’re all on the same team. It’s not like Demarco’s doing anything, either.” He sighed, frustrated. “He’s been just as much of a shut-in, doesn’t even go to the Ranza Estate anymore.”
Her breath quieted when she thought of the greenhouse. How long would it take for flowers like that to die? There was no way she could go back. It would be too hard.
“So boring, really,” Aaros continued. “He spends most of his time going to this town’s shoddy post office when he’s not in his room.”
Kallia shot him a look. “You’ve been following him?”
“I knew you’d be curious.”
She scoffed, though the tight coil in her chest relaxed. He wouldn’t leave Glorian, even if he could. He had more dignity than to let her coldness defeat him. The same could not be said for her. She cringed, remembering the things she’d said to him.
Her finger traced her lips, remembering that, too.
It had worked all too well. Jack hadn’t appeared in her room or showed hints of his presence in the dark. No accidents, no one missing or turned up injured. Whether or not his silence marked his approval, it was a temporary peace.
Aaros abruptly kicked at her seat. “Look alive, boss.”
Her brow drew at the shadow falling over the small table from behind her. She inhaled stiffly, catching that fresh clean smell edged with a spice she couldn’t name. She hated these little pieces of him she’d collected, that her memory would not let go.