to give a definition. Something nameless and vast, sitting heavily in his chest.
This, it said.
If they could stay just like this, that would be enough.
She drifted her fingers across the back of his neck. Not at all the proper hold, but she never missed a step. “I know.”
They stared at each other as they followed the rest of the steps in silence. It could never be just a dance between them. The song would soon end and the floor would clear, becoming just another moment of the night. After tonight, tomorrow, he wasn’t sure when else they would have another one like this.
He would’ve let his nose brush hers, their lips touch, if it weren’t for the showering applause. The music, slowly drawing to a close. No one noticed as he kept his hand at her back, both turning their attention to the latest arrival: the mayor, overlooking the party like a king from atop the stairs.
“People of Glorian, visitors from afar, generous donors, and contestants—it is truly a pleasure to see such a remarkable turnout for our city,” Mayor Eilin proclaimed, beaming at his audience below. “We are immensely thankful that Glorian is no longer a city to whisper about, but one with a much louder voice. And flashy headlines, I might add.”
Laughter echoed across the room in a light, airy current that filled Daron with the oddest dread.
“Spectaculore has been nothing short of wildly unpredictable, as you all know.” With a coy grin, the mayor continued, “As is typical in this business, but we aim to end on a high note. For tonight, we have a surprise in store for you.” He made an exaggerated display of peering over his guests. “Everyone has their roses, yes?”
Daron instinctively touched the rose that had been pinned at his lapel, as people began whispering curiously amongst themselves.
“Good, because every voter needs a token. And you’ll all have a chance to cast yours for the one magician who will emerge from the world below. For tonight, we finish the story…”
All at once, Daron stiffened.
“Satisfied as the gatekeepers were of the magician’s feat, they demanded one more spectacle. One last test.”
He reached for Kallia’s hand, and it was just as cold as his.
“Welcome, all.” Mayor Eilin had already begun clapping, exposing a teeth-baring grin. “To our final performance of the show.”
48
Be prepared to be surprised.
Jack had said as much, and yet shock slammed into her.
Amid the applause, a high-pitched shriek erupted from above. Mostly everyone had returned to the ball, barely paying mind to Janette as she dragged her father down the stairs to the bannister and away from the revelry. Kallia could still glimpse her pristine face, fury-red, in the shadows.
“Father!” she cried, as the other contestants and judges inched closer to their area. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Sorry for the quick change in plans, darling. Surely you understand.” The mayor absently gestured for the others to join, despite his daughter’s outburst. “We didn’t want to trouble you with more show talk. I know how tired you’ve grown of it.”
“Yes, because it’s all that’s ever talked about. And I’ll be damned if you let it ruin tonight.”
“Janette, please contain your—”
“I will not.” She crossed her arms, practically heaving. “You put me in charge of this event, and I will not see it derailed for yet another bloody performance.”
Her rage was palpable, especially in the face of naive party guests who tittered at the prospect of tonight’s events. The grandeur of the ballroom, forgotten in light of the upcoming entertainment. Kallia felt a trickle of sympathy for her. The night she’d spent ages planning, envisioning, executing—in a few words, was no longer hers, but her father’s.
“Did you know about this?”
Demarco stood at the outskirts with her, grim-faced as he watched the father and daughter bicker on while servants unveiled a row of three large, empty, crystal bowls glinting against the fireplace. Kallia couldn’t quite place his expression, but it wasn’t fury. An uneasiness had settled across his brow.
“No, I didn’t.” Not completely a lie. “But I’m assuming the others did.”
She glanced over to where the remaining contestants stood, donning top hats like their mentors. They shared smirks and whispers over the rims of their short glasses, as if this chaos was something they themselves had made from scratch.
“I’m so sorry.” Demarco exhaled, following her line of vision. “I-I should’ve known. Done … something.”
“Stop. It’s not your fault.” Kallia gently pressed her fingers into his wrist. “They’re the ones who should be scared.”