The master sipped from his glass as he turned from the window and avoided the sea of broken crystals. With a snap, they rose like frozen rain around him and the illusion, who wordlessly watched him, unaware of the floating glass. At his command, they lifted up to the ceiling to re-form their original shape. Piece by piece, they linked back into the chandelier it once was. Grand, glorious, and fragile as the day he’d first acquired it.
It was only a matter of time before he broke it again. With the second show night looming over his head like a storm, it would probably be sooner than he thought.
It was far too late to stop the game. From here, it couldn’t touch him. A mercy of the Woods he wouldn’t take for granted.
The master couldn’t return now. He wouldn’t.
Even if they found her, if they hadn’t already.
21
Kallia wiped her dirty palms over her thighs, raking in a labored breath. She relished the satisfying burn of her muscles. Like dancing for hours until only the inevitable ache could stop her.
She hopped on the stage, waiting for the worker on the ladder reaching the elaborate proscenium of cards. The rust and wear across the shapes were hardly noticeable to the audience, but Erasmus demanded the entire stage glitter at its finest before Spectaculore returned for its next night. They only had so many labor magicians on hand, and Kallia couldn’t help but pull back her sleeves and lend a hand when she’d entered the theater that morning.
When the worker rose to the top of the arch, right where cards with stars danced with flames, Kallia raised her palm. Slowly, the paint can lifted to the worker, who tipped his hat at her.
She released her hold with a satisfied exhale. Strangely enough, the sounds of hammers banging and orders shouted across the show hall brought her a comfort she couldn’t quite place. It was the music of busyness, and she loved how everything could drown in its presence. She’d been hoping it could drown the earlier parts of this morning.
The fresh memory assailed her. With the next show only two days away, she’d felt the need to familiarize herself with the playing field once more before returning to it. As usual, she had risen earlier than Aaros. Earlier than the city, for how quiet the world became as she flicked her wrist toward her door. The lock of her room clicked behind her.
At that exact moment, the door across opened.
She stilled as Demarco stepped out, casually turning his key between his knuckles until the motion paused at his notice. In the quiet, her heart pounded.
You should be focusing on other things.
Trust me, I know.
The words dug under her skin. Demarco sent a short, polite nod her way before locking up behind him.
“Good morning.” Kallia fiddled with her door handle, finding it rigid. She’d already locked it. Zarose, what was wrong with her? “Didn’t realize anyone else would be awake this early.”
Demarco pocketed his key. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”
At the same time, they turned down the hall. Neither looking at the other. It was awkward enough that their strides matched, side by side, all the way to the stairwell. The distance must’ve tripled since she last walked it, for the torture seemed to go on forever.
How many times must you apologize to me before you actually mean it?
Thank Zarose he wouldn’t look at her. Not even she could tamp down the flush of embarrassment. The emotion was as rare to her as shame, which tangled in her throat as everything about his past rushed back to her. Normally she could charm her way out of anything with a smile and a wink for good measure. Neither would work with him.
“Where are you off to?” she asked, unnaturally chipper. Obliviousness would have to do.
“The library.” He exhaled a noticeable breath of relief as they finally arrived at the spot where the carpet sloped down into steps. The bright foyer area of the Prima, within their reach. To spare them the pain of descending together, Demarco gestured for her to go first. Polite to the teeth, which somehow grated on her nerves more as she gave a quick nod of thanks and—
“Kallia?”
At the softened tone, she whirled around so fast, her neck almost cracked. “Yes?”
Above her, Demarco still wouldn’t meet her eyes, his brow working and smoothing over again like he wanted to say something, but suddenly thought