Daron coughed, averting his gaze. “If he comes over again, I’ll—”
Without warning, the assistant reached over to dip a finger in Daron’s cup. “Cold coffee.”
The thump in Daron’s pulse jumped up a beat. “Hot beverages do have the tendency to lose heat over time.”
“Yes, but how much time, is the real question.” He sat back with a glimmer of satisfaction, toying with the bread as if only getting started. “And how long have you been sitting here, judge? Waiting for somebody?”
Both men stared each other down, unblinking, while the sounds of clinking utensils and delightful chatter surrounded them in a wave of morning pleasantries. They couldn’t have been more removed from it, and it was probably best to end the conversation altogether before the tension rose to more questions, and possibly fists.
Instead, Daron surrendered a hand over the table with a sigh. “Call me Demarco.”
The eyes across from him widened, more at the hand itself. As if it weren’t something often offered to him. “Call me surprised,” he replied. “You’ve got notable blood and stage chops, so I’ve heard. You don’t act like it.”
It was refreshing to be in the company of those who didn’t know his life as the Daring Demarco. When he could tuck it away like a secret, Daron breathed easier. “People exaggerate. I don’t perform anymore, which has given me ample time to get my head out of my ass.”
The assistant snorted. “Good thing. I don’t think this competition could take any more egomaniacs.” He leaned forward and shook his hand. “I’m Aaros.”
“A pleasure to properly meet. We’ll no doubt be crossing paths more with the show in full swing.”
“We already have.” Aaros gave a cheeky smile. “All the top hat judges spit on my boss’s name, and she doesn’t bat an eyelash. Yet a word from you drives her up the wall.”
The feeling was definitely mutual. “Please. She would walk on ice like it’s iron, and still reach the other side all right. I’m merely a side player in this game, nothing more.”
Humming, Aaros tossed another piece of stale bread in his mouth. “Sure doesn’t seem that way,” he said, chewing more thoughtfully. “Now that we’re chummy breakfast companions, care to tell me what exactly you are doing with my boss?”
“What am I doing with her?”
“Not an old flame, otherwise she’d avoid you like the plague and pretend you didn’t exist,” the assistant went on, head tilted. “Not a current one, otherwise you’d be … somewhere a little more comfortable, I imagine.”
“Mind out of the gutter,” Daron deadpanned.
“Nor are you spying for your aunt, I don’t think. Otherwise the Patrons would’ve swarmed Kallia the moment she lit the stage on fire.”
Daron squared him with a look of disdain. “Interesting theory. But no, I assure you, I’m no spy. And we’ve never met until this competition.” He glanced back to the stairs, still streaming with well-dressed hotel guests. “I take it she’s asleep.”
“Out like a lamp thrown against the wall.”
The image made Daron cringe. That’s exactly what it had sounded like from his room. A scream, followed by other terrible noises. “Does she need a doctor?”
“Calm down, mate. I knocked on her door a couple of times and got a slur of profanities to not disturb her.” Aaros mixed the breadcrumbs on the plate with his finger, unworried. “You magicians need your rest, right? After all she gave to last night’s show, she’ll no doubt stay married to her bed for the next day or two.”
Daron nodded. The twisting feeling in his gut, which had him acting like some scatterbrained fool, still refused to settle. Especially when, for the first time since he arrived in Glorian, he woke not with the determination to find out the city’s secrets, but worried. Far more than he had any right to be. Nowhere else would he find himself sitting at a café for hours on end, fixated on the stairs to catch a glimpse of someone who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. No wonder Aaros had picked him out so easily in the crowd. Daron no doubt made a pathetic sight.
Space was what he needed. It’s what Kallia wanted, and he’d be better off, too. What sort of judge would he look like if he was seen outside her door every time something went amiss? What would others think if they saw?
“Problem, Demarco?” Aaros cocked his head.
Daron shot up from his seat and threw his napkin on the table. “No, though I must be off.” He dug