her head to gauge the pain. Kallia smothered her hiss at the slight soreness, and leaned into his touch. More ice than the fire she knew. She suppressed a shiver by moving her fingers up and down his right forearm.
Head tilted, he stared at them. “You’re sure?”
The earnestness in his voice almost fooled her. She would’ve preferred not to notice it at all. But still, it caught at her and latched. Tugged on the part of her looking for reasons to explain why, why he would ever do this to her.
Do not let it out, do not let it out.
Her smile was a mask; her voice, a spell. “I’m sure.”
* * *
She was back on the greenhouse roof, to Lucina’s dismay.
It had taken Jack a while to finally leave them, and Lucina was far too ready to start primping and preparing for the club tonight as if they’d done so hundreds of times together.
“Get down from there, Kalls, or you’ll fall. Again.” Lucina huffed from below, strutting and pacing like an overworked peacock. “A bath and makeup can only hide so much. Broken bones, they cannot.”
Kallia observed the girl, lingering on her sure movements. Waiting for the first hint of wrongness. She fit in too well with the House, perfect as a doll built to live within it. But bone deep, Kallia knew Lucina was a stranger—even if there was something familiar about her, vivid flashes and images, tastes and smells from a past so convincing. So real, as if she had been trapped in the House alongside Kallia for ages.
It hadn’t taken long for Kallia to play her part. She’d linked arms with the girl, nodded eagerly at every tease she gave about tonight’s attire. An act, well-played. Enough that when Lucina steered them toward the club, she found nothing amiss when Kallia took them outside.
“It’s a surprise,” Kallia promised. “For Jack. Don’t tell.”
Lucina grinned at being in on a secret. She acted as the lookout while Kallia had a quick word with the groundskeeper to saddle up a horse so Jack could take her riding late in the night.
“Oh, how sweet,” the seamstress gushed. “You two haven’t ridden together in ages.”
It unnerved Kallia how she knew. She must have a store of information about her and Jack, this newly crafted illusion with the same purpose as all the rest.
Her enthusiasm wavered, as she next guided them to the greenhouse for some fresh air.
Only when Kallia began to climb did the illusion hesitate.
She had to be quick. When she reached the top, her first moment alone since her supposed fall, she forced herself to keep going. Every emotion beating wildly inside her, she caged them all. She couldn’t lose herself, couldn’t cry, couldn’t stop even for a second.
Not if she wanted to get out of here.
Calling out cheerful reassurances, Kallia slid the roof tile out of place, fingers shaking. Everything of hers in the House could burn, but not this. The cloth, still dark-smudged and wrinkled and stitched with the flower. The only thing that felt real. Swiftly she pocketed it, before pausing at the crumpled flyer. But there was no need to keep it. Glorian rose in the distance like a beckoning hand, posing a question. Promising more.
Her name was called once more, with exasperation now.
Kallia left her collection laid across the roof, hoping the wind would take back the gifts it had given.
Hellfire House was filled to the brim.
Delirious laughter and smoke poured from the dens in sprawls of mist and spent memories. The lusty beat of the music drowned the whole club, ushering in hordes of masked guests, while dancers slinked around them in sparkling corsets and suits. Drinks poured from the slender necks of green glass bottles. Cards were shuffled and folded.
The master of the House prowled his domain. He had not seen his star since the incident earlier. An easy enough cover-up for the mess he’d made. What had gone wrong with the illusion this time? She’d always been resistant to them, even more so now. And it troubled him, the direction she was always looking toward. The city she’d always been drawn to, in the way one looks for the shore after being at sea for too long.
From his usual table, glass in hand, he watched the spot where the chandelier would drop. Others around him kept shooting waiting glances skyward as well. She was a magnificent performer, and the evidence filled him with pride. But there was still so much to show