“You didn’t really need to apologize to me, anyway,” he said, slowing his steps. “I do appreciate the gesture, but it’s for the best if we leave it at that.”
A whole new level of fury trickled into her veins. “What do you mean ‘it’s for the best’?” she demanded. She hadn’t stood there making a complete fool of herself, only to have her words thrown back at her feet. “Don’t go making rules where there aren’t any.”
“But there are, Kallia. You don’t see them because you walk all over them. There are rules to this competition, and restrictions to what can and cannot happen.” Shoulders tense, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re a contestant, and I’m a judge. It’s best if we remain professional and stay on our respective sides while the show goes on. Agreed?”
“What sort of boundaries would we be crossing by talking?” She gestured at the both of them. “Would this, by your definition, be perceived as unprofessional? Or would you rather turn your back every time I enter a room? Because that sounds immature.”
“Not on my side of the table, it doesn’t.” He gave a short sideways glance at the others who occupied the far corner of the room. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t show you the favor you want—”
“It’s not favor that I want from you.”
“Then what? What else could you want from someone like me? Friendship?” He let out a harsh laugh, more at himself than at her. “I’m only a name. A judge.”
Kallia had thought he was her tentative ally, too, but she’d clearly been wrong about that. Demarco was so set on dismissing her that he’d forgotten he was the only reason she was here in the first place. He’d recognized her potential, given her a chance. Those weren’t small acts to her.
“So what?” she said, nostrils flared. “Would it be so terrible if we were friends?”
“Based on our interactions thus far, I don’t really think we’d make very good ones.”
“We’re better off as enemies, then, is that it?”
The edges of his lips quirked up, and Kallia’s pulse quickened. But the light in him dimmed just as swiftly once he started off toward the center of the ballroom. “We should get back to the others,” he said brusquely.
He could hide it all he wanted, but she’d seen his smile. How it had wanted to spread, if only he’d let it.
“You’ll warm up to me again in time, Demarco. I’m much nicer than my thorns betray, you’ll see.” Kallia trailed after him with the lazy, sure click of her boots. “Maybe we could practice together sometime? Do some tricks and exercises—”
“No, I can’t. We can’t.” Demarco glared at her over his shoulder. He gave a quick, suspicious look around the room, always looking at the others, though the rest of the party had long since migrated far from them. “Listen, I accepted your apology. Let’s leave it at that.”
At that, he left without looking back. The loneliness prickled against her skin, until it became a burn. Rising from her neck to her cheeks.
She’d apologized, admitted she was wrong. Practically begged for him to be her friend. Over the years, she’d endured much worse. Wardrobe malfunctions, midperformance. The disdainful slither of men’s eyes running over her, their hollers following her everywhere.
But if this right here wasn’t pure embarrassment, she didn’t know what was.
Her nails dug into her palms. The scorching sensation swept through her, merciless and sure.
Separate, firecrown. Jack used to whisper in her ear when they practiced. He’d always stress the importance of the magician finding power within. Depending on anyone else bred weakness. Magic was meant to be a lonely gift.
You are your power.
Separate.
Little by little, the fury cooled from her skin.
Separate.
22
Spectator after spectator filed in, flooding the aisles of the Alastor Place to no one’s surprise. The first night proved Spectaculore was what it always promised to be—the light that drew others out, a spectacle no one could miss out on.
“Did I not tell you?” Erasmus clapped his hand on the mayor’s shoulder, looking out into the crowd. “Wonderful turnout. Wonderful.”
Daron gritted his teeth. The renovations on the show hall were finally complete, but only barely. With the majority of workers and labor magicians making headway on Janette’s plans for the ballroom, he feared they wouldn’t be finished with the theater in time for the second show.
But Erasmus was always one for entertaining the masses as soon as he could, and the success of it was starting