A new voice entered the gentlemen’s conversation. Demarco, stone-faced as usual with a near-empty glass in his hand. The moment they realized who’d spoken, the men blanched and huffed away. Demarco lifted his glass at their backs as if to bid them good-bye, before spotting Kallia watching him.
Heat flushed to her ears. His stare was heavier than hot iron, the same as when he’d held up his score of four for everyone to see. After meager numbers across the board, she’d been pleasantly gratified, then vexed. Four. Out of a possible five. He’d enjoyed her act enough to grant a high score, but not enough for a perfect one. It somehow grated on her nerves more than the mayor’s gleeful one.
Four. That imperfect number carved in the back of her mind.
Before she could step right up to him and demand why, he dropped his gaze, drained his glass, and turned away toward the bar.
“Look, there goes the Patron boy. What I’d give to see him grace the stage again.”
Behind Kallia, two elderly women in gem-bright gowns—clearly outsiders—peered at the bar behind their lacy, half-moon fans. “You think he’s seeing anyone?”
“What, are you asking for a friend?”
“Oh, you are bad. I’m just curious.” Her companion swatted her with her fan. “It’s been a while since he was last in the papers.”
“More like since he’s been in society! It’s been years. He has to move on.”
“Don’t be so heartless, Celie.” A reprimanding tsk. “It’s a shame, really, his assistant. Those two were sweet on each other.”
“Maybe not as sweet as we thought,” the other whispered. “He sure seems fine as hell, now.”
The two tittered on, venturing toward the bar as if to get a closer look at the subject of their gossip. Kallia would’ve followed were it not for the sudden ringing in her head, pulsing.
It was the dizziness. She’d been feeling funny ever since she stepped off the stage, especially after all the tricks she pulled. An endless tug-of-war against her body.
She teetered back when a hand caught her elbow.
“Easy there.” Aaros strained to hold her up along with the flowers. “Time to turn in?”
Kallia’s temple throbbed in assent, but she didn’t dare show it. Not with all these people around. “Yes, it’s a rather boring party, and we’ve had a long night.”
“That we have.” His shoulders relaxed. At the slight movement, a few petals fell from the bouquets in his arms. “What do you want to do with your new portable garden?”
“Just…” Kallia stroked at a row of soft petals, wishing she could keep them all like she had at Hellfire House. But carrying old habits from there only invited its presence. “Just drop them off at the front desk. They can toss or keep them for the hotel. It could use more color.”
Aaros’s brow furrowed. “I’m not entirely sure if that’s how it works in hotels, but I’ll give it a swing.”
She didn’t even have the energy to blush. She’d never been in a hotel before in her life, how was she supposed to know? She’d never had to continue entertaining guests after a night of performing, either. That, too, was new. Hours of soaking in the praises of others soon turned into a task she never thought would tire her, and Zarose, was she exhausted. Even her lips had grown stiff as bricks after hours of smiling. As the night weighed on her, she felt no guilt in abandoning her wine and slipping through the party, ignoring the calls of her name, the subtle touches at her arm to stop and chat. All she wanted was to curl up in bed alone.
“Cheater.”
The hiss stopped Kallia short after one step on the stairs. Behind her, one of the younger magicians—Ives—leaned against the large marble bannister, throwing her the darkest glare.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He staggered forward to stand a step above her. The sour wine on his breath reached her in full force. “First you make a contestant disappear, and next you violate the rules and saunter around like you own the place? They should’ve never allowed someone like you in.”
Kallia bit back an enormous scoff. She shouldn’t have even wasted a moment on him, but the word snapped inside her. Cheater.
“How astounding,” she said through a grin. “I’m simply amazed.”
Ives paused. “By what?”
“Your fragility.” Her features hardened to ice. “I broke no rules. I outperformed you fair and square. Just because you delivered a mediocre act does not give you the right to take