her liking. “Don’t I have a right to be? I gave the performance of a lifetime.”
“At your own expense. I know the cost of tricks like that.” His jaw worked as he delivered each word carefully. “When delivered in such quick succession, without control … it pulls a lot out of you.”
“I have more up my sleeve than you think.” Kallia spun on her heel down the empty candlelit hallway of doors. He followed, though the act did not bring her even a sliver of satisfaction this time. “I’m neither weak nor clueless when it comes to my magic, so if you’re trying to educate me on myself, I think we’re done here.”
Nothing twisted Kallia’s gut more than underestimation. Especially tonight, the first time she’d been able to perform as herself. Truly herself, and not behind a mask.
And still, the wolves came out to tear her down.
“I wasn’t saying that.” Demarco’s breath hitched as he hastened to her side. “You just don’t want to give up the best you’ve got so early on.”
“And you assume that’s the best I’ve got?” Near their doors, Kallia turned, her brow raised in challenge. “I know what I’m doing. I play by my own strategies, and I don’t expect many to agree with them. But in the event they stop working, perhaps then I will come to you for whatever wisdom you’re trying to impart.”
“I’m only trying to offer some advice.” He crossed his arms, matching her scowl with his own. “So many magicians have ruined their chances on the stage because of a single mistake—a flaw, a misstep, an error in thinking—”
“Excuse you, but I made no mistakes,” she countered hotly. “Is that why you gave me only a four? Because I didn’t perform up to your standards?”
She wished she could take it back as soon as she heard the crack in her voice. He’d caught it, too, from the way he cast his gaze down to his feet. “You really shouldn’t be asking me that.”
No, she shouldn’t. His opinion should matter as little as his colleagues’, yet she’d fixated on his score. That four. Why did she care so much about what he thought? “Humor me, since you’re so forthright about constructive criticism,” she bit out. “What about my act docked a point off for you?”
A silence fell over them, one that stretched for so long, she wondered if he’d just let the question die between them and take off for his own room.
“You almost fell,” he finally said, his face unreadable. Everything about him, inscrutable. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt if your assistant hadn’t been there. Or was all that part of your … strategy?”
The last word edged with doubt. Of course he’d caught that. While everyone enjoyed the music and fanfare, he’d been watching her. Falling hadn’t been the worst of her performance, though. Seeing those damn birds had stopped her heart more than almost breaking any bones on the stage.
“Absolutely.” Kallia plastered on a smile. “Everybody loves a good damsel in distress.”
“But only a fool would think you’d ever play one, which is why I gave you a four.” He straightened and made a sharp swerve toward his door, before he paused, holding out the wilted rose between them. “Here, take it. You obviously didn’t need the rescue in the first place. My mistake.”
His tone grated against her skin—a biting blend of sarcasm and disbelief that filled her with the strangest sense of shame. He sighed and went to withdraw the rose when Kallia snatched it by the stem, his fingers closing briefly around hers. His palm coarse, warm.
Neither of them moved.
Heat pooled deep in her stomach before she moved away. Demarco withdrew just as quickly without so much as a breath. Just an abrupt turn toward his door and the sound of it closing softly behind him, as forceful as a slam.
18
Insufferable.
Kallia shut her door and nearly threw the rose out the window. But the worn, stubborn flower had survived this long. It did not deserve her fury.
She scoffed and thumbed the stem. As her gaze shifted up, she nearly screamed at the shadowy figure startling across the room.
Clutching at her throat, she blinked and shuddered out a breath. It was only her reflection. The heavy fabric she’d used to cover the vanity mirror had fallen and hung limply over the wooden surface.
Her pulse thrummed a panicked rhythm. She should cover the damn mirror, look away at least. But her appearance struck her like it had before her