Hot shame pricked at Kallia. Had she gone too far? She was no stranger to the scenario, but somehow she also knew that he wasn’t cut from that dirty cloth. The flicker of pure disgust over his face spoke as much.
“Good night, Kallia,” he said tersely, turning from her. Not back toward his room like last time, but down the hall, lost in the lights and sounds of the party still alive down below.
Good. She rubbed a hand across her face. Good for him to think the worst of her. To leave her alone, finally.
“Who is he?”
For once, Jack wasn’t at her back or by her ear. Slowly closing the door, Kallia found him standing over the fireplace. A silhouette shadowed against the dying flames, a sight more threatening than if he were pressed against her.
“He’s a judge.” She scoffed with such disdain, she convinced even herself. “Like the rest of those top hats. I do my best to avoid him.”
“He said he advised you on your performance.” Jack released a harsh laugh. “Him?”
It had always unnerved Kallia, how easily he could intuit knowledge without having to be told. How seamlessly he could weaponize it.
“He’s just a judge, Jack. Leave him alone.” The slice of anger in her whisper betrayed her. It was all the answer Jack needed.
“I wonder how you’d look at him, had I not been waiting here.” His entire form flickered. Eyes raw, burning. “Would you have invited him inside?”
“Go ahead and create more illusions out of nothing,” she snarled, observing the rapidly fading quality of his figure with relief. The sight of a deadly storm coming to pass. “I came here for one thing, and it wasn’t for distractions like him. He means nothing.”
“And what about me?” Jack’s voice went low, unreadable. “Am I nothing?”
He was talking in circles. He’d slithered into this room sly as a snake, and it took a mere moment—a delusion—to lose that lethal polish. Envy always did bring out the worst in Jack.
“I gave you power,” he said quietly. “A life, a stage.”
“You gave me a cage.” Her breath shook. “And now you want to throw me back in it.”
The sharp edges and dark planes of his face shifted under the bitterest of smiles. “That’s where you’re wrong, firecrown. I didn’t throw you in a cage.” He raised a hand by her cheek, close without touching. “You walked right inside and turned the lock. And if you’re not careful, you’ll lose yourself to it.”
The door gave a short rustle behind them. Kallia jumped back from Jack, but he’d already vanished to the other side of the room. Right by the vanity mirror, fixing the drape that had somehow fallen again, as if he had all the time in the world. “Start by keeping this covered. There’s no telling what mirrors will try to show you here.”
When the lock clicked and light trickled in, Kallia whirled around, everything in her tightening as the door creaked open. Aaros poked his head inside with a droopy, drunken expression that sobered the instant he caught sight of her. “Boss? I thought you’d be passed out by now.”
Brow creased, Kallia turned and paused when she found nobody behind her.
Only an open window, ushering in a dark, lingering chill.
19
Daron,
We arrived at the academies just a few days prior, answering those urgent calls out east I mentioned last time. Strange magic is afoot. It seems there might be a new development from the possible power plight among magicians in the area. Still too early to tell, but never too early to take action.
Hope you’re well. Write back when you can, please.
And remember not to party too much. Especially not on an empty stomach.
—Aunt Cata
The letter had appeared in Daron’s courier case that morning. Wherever he went, his letters found him. Correspondences from old friends he’d rather not hear from, the persistent press still gunning to stage interviews he’d sooner fall into a ditch than give. When he’d left Tarcana, he’d wondered if he were better off leaving the case home altogether, but he’d always find letters from his aunt there. The only ones he read, even if he never answered them. That she still wrote meant she hadn’t completely lost hope in him.
Better yet, it meant she had no idea where he was at the moment, and why.
He ran his thumb over the broken Patrons wax seal, white as bone. Eva would always rip them open excitedly, and together they’d pore over the latest adventures