known today. A miracle remembered as the greatest feat in magician history, guarded by those he’d trained and trusted. A tradition passed down, from generation to generation.
“No wonder he retired so early,” Kallia grumbled. “If you have the right blood, why even work at all?”
“Have some respect, for Zarose sake,” Aaros said, grinning. “His aunt is practically the iron fist of magicians. If you mess up, she’ll find out. No doubt from her dear nephew.”
As if she needed more obstacles. “I don’t give a damn who he’s related to. Besides, he liked me enough to get me through to the next stage.”
“You keep sending him dagger eyes like earlier, and it’ll be enough to send you right back.” He sighed. “But at least you won’t be forgotten.”
“Exactly. Attention is attention.” She gestured down the folds of her clasped cloak, hiding the showgirl outfit she wore beneath. “Clearly it worked.”
Demarco aside, there was no way the judges could’ve turned her away. They wanted a show, and that’s what she gave them.
Aaros reared his head back with a bemused, curious look. “All right, I have to know what your story is. The mystery is killing me. You’re not some rogue runaway from Casine’s, are you?”
Kallia nearly tripped, but righted herself before he noticed. He no doubt had been forming illusions of grandeur since the audition. What would he think if he knew she was no worldly traveler, no great name on the stage unless the one at a neighboring nightclub in the Woods counted?
She steadied her strides, voice even. “I got us a place in the competition, with food, lodging, and amenities included. That’s all that matters.”
If only Jack could see her, he’d swallow back every doubt he ever had.
For she was a contender, here to stay.
Here to win.
It had only ever been a daydream. Surely she would jerk awake at any moment and find herself back in the House. Yet somehow, she was still walking down an unpaved path with a stranger beside her, and a key to a new home.
The realization filled her with a bubbling giddiness, her insides like shaken champagne, nearly bursting with light. Unable to help herself, Kallia spun into her next step when Aaros wasn’t looking, composing herself the instant he did.
The Prima Hotel was not too far from the shadowy, unkempt city corner where the Alastor Place resided. The sight became more of a curiosity to Kallia. Neglect and ruin ran rampant in the air of Glorian, but the Alastor Place appeared trapped in its most forgotten parts, only now slowly emerging from the rubble.
They passed the quiet caravan of circus tents parked around the vicinity, lying like the empty, silken skin shed from a snake. Stretched tall and striped in warm white and purple so dark it almost seemed black, the tents stood motionless, betraying no movement inside. As they reached the end of one tent, Kallia paused and peered closer. A symbol was embedded among the closed folds: three swords side by side with their blades tipped toward the middle, as if piercing through the two letter Cs forged at the center.
Kallia’s heart gave another leap as the circus tent rustled.
“For Zarose sake,” someone cursed as a hand shot out to pull back the fabric. “How can you rats even muster the urge to spy on us when it’s so damn cold?”
The slit was drawn wide open, and Kallia met a pair of gold catlike eyes belonging to the most beautiful face she was certain she’d ever seen. Metallic serpentine markings emblazoned the girl’s round cheeks and soft chin, clasping around her throat before disappearing to the back of her neck. The snake marking might’ve caught Kallia’s attention first, but it wasn’t the girl’s only tattoo. A collection of other shapes and scripts branded her skin.
And they were all moving.
The girl’s mouth fell open in shock. “Sorry! I thought you were one of those nasty boys from before.” She laughed, batting a tattooed hand against her chest, before marveling at Kallia’s green cloak with delight. “Oh, I just adore that shade—”
“Juno, who the hell are you talking to?” a shrill voice drawled harshly from within the tent. “Get away from there. We’re getting cold.”
“Relax, thought it was another creeper,” she called over her shoulder before dropping her voice. “You may be like us, but I’d scram if I were you. Ringleader’s in a mood.” The girl cocked her head back at the tent.
Kallia’s pulse fluttered. She had so many questions, like how the