rest. She was used to angry, judgmental men. But this … unbalanced her. More than she liked.
“I have a question for you, Mister Demarco. One that’s been lingering.”
The shadow that flashed across his face disappeared so quickly, she wasn’t sure it had truly been there.
“And that is?”
“To be honest, I don’t know much about you, either, other than your familial ties. And that you’re a notable magician.” Kallia crossed her arms. “But from what I’ve gathered, you don’t seem like a fool who becomes so consumed by panic that you’re rendered absolutely useless. Why, then, was it my quick thinking that put out the fire, and not yours?”
Demarco went still. Not angry, just quiet. It frustrated Kallia, for there was nothing in it she could pick apart and read. Not even as he said, “I haven’t used magic for the stage in a long time.”
Kallia quelled the grimace creeping over her face, unable to imagine going a day without magic. “And why is that?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You ask too many questions.”
“Come on, Demarco. You can’t leave it at that. My curiosity is piqued.”
“Then it’ll have to stay that way.”
“Are we back to hissing at each other like two cats in a cage already?” Her head tilted. “And here I thought we were finally getting along.”
“Consider this a temporary ceasefire.” Demarco resumed his stern demeanor, and the sudden shift set Kallia at ease, the knots inside her finally starting to untangle.
Before he leaned in all of a sudden, close to her ear. “And don’t forget what I said before,” he said, voice low. “You’re not allowed to have anyone other than your assistant lend a hand with your tricks. Not even circus performers.”
The warning grazed the skin of her neck. The knots seized again, such a strange jolt to her system that she couldn’t help but smile down at her crossed arms. “Don’t you worry. I know the rules.”
“Sure.” A low chuckle escaped from him. Kallia bit back her own. “See you at rehearsal.”
14
Kallia exited the Alastor Place as if she were floating. Hardly a hint of sun shone through the gloomy clouds, but her cheeks remained flushed.
She had a whole day to herself until the rehearsal preceding show night. They’d been told it was only to run through the program and tour the new stage. No practicing magic, for everything was to be done live when the seats were filled. Good, Kallia thought. There was no dazzling a crowd and judges if they knew what to expect, and she intended to keep her cards close.
She raised herself on the balls of her feet, about to launch into a little spin before stopping abruptly at the sound of someone clearing his throat.
“Look at you, waltzing about like an angel with new wings.” Aaros matched her step, past the closed circus tents. “And here I thought you and Demarco despised each other.”
Heat brushed her face. “‘Despise’ is rather harsh. I hardly know him,” she said, smoothing her hair. Looking straight ahead. “You have the dress?”
A slight crinkle came from the long garment bag hanging off his arm. “Then what did he have to apologize for? Did he do something to you?”
“Of course not.” It was the most serious he’d ever sounded, a protective side she didn’t expect. “If he or anyone here ever succeeded in that, I’d make sure they were wearing their insides out.”
“But he did do something … or something happened…” Aaros trailed off with a flicker of uncertainty. “I know you like keeping secrets, Kallia, and I respect your privacy. But being in the dark has not exactly been the greatest launch of our friendship. At least not for me.”
Kallia slowed, regarding him closer. “You consider me a friend?”
Aaros laughed. “You’ve given me more in one week than the street rats I’ve been running with my whole life. And to be honest, even if I know nothing much about you … I’m rather attached to you at this point.” He shrugged. “Nothing you can do about it, really.”
She wanted to smile back, to hold on to that warmth a little longer, but she peered closer at him instead, hunting for something amiss in his manner. She’d missed it all before, countless times at the House with other companions she’d believed were true.
Anything that seemed too good to be true often was. Even a friend.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he retorted. “Your company is not too terrible.”
“No, it’s … I’ve never really had friends.” Her pulse thrummed a