her head. The world of humans and mortal magicians.
As if he were something else, entirely.
“Knock, knock.”
Aaros. His muffled reply ended with the turn of the doorknob.
Her senses snapped back, pulse racing. In the mirror, Jack listened on sternly as though he’d heard the knock as well. His shoulders straightened as he peered closer, leaning nearer.
She had to stop this. Kallia shot up, fingers wringing at her sides. He was not going away. Aaros would see.
“Yes, Sire.”
Kallia froze, the name unleashing so much inside her. A flood of memories, a realization. Her chest rose and fell fast, the snugness of her dress suddenly too constricting for the need to breathe. To hide.
She snapped her fingers.
Crunch.
The glass fractured at her back just as the door opened. Her startled gasp must’ve come out more like a shriek from how Aaros covered his eyes. “Oh, sorry! I should’ve waited.”
“Stop it. You … caught me by surprise, is all,” Kallia said flatly, pressing a hand to her abdomen to quell the nausea. The fractured mirror remained lifeless. Whatever she’d seen, she wanted to forget it. That voice in her ear, Jack as her reflection. And Sire. So many questions and sensations burned at her until her teeth chattered. “Come in, tell me what’s happening.”
“Everyone’s fine. A little shaken, though.” His shoulders eased. “Some strange mishap up in the bell tower, apparently.”
“What of the show?” she demanded, smoothing her hair. “Oh, would you stop covering your eyes?”
“Only respecting your boundaries, boss.” As soon as he closed the door, he slid his hands from his face, which instantly fell. “What’s wrong—are you okay?”
Kallia cursed inwardly. “I swear, you ask me that twenty times a day. I’m fine.”
Over the past few days, he’d been very attentive. So much so that it was starting to irritate her, though she knew it came from a place of concern.
“Fine,” he repeated, approaching her quietly. Kallia stiffened as he reached behind her, across the vanity surface, and plucked what looked to be a fallen black feather. No remark about the fractured mirror, to her relief. “You just look…”
His pause dragged on as he casually spun the feather between his fingers.
“Absolutely fabulous better be your answer.” Kallia strutted over to her chair, lowering into it with languid grace. “You didn’t answer my first question. Is the show still on?”
Aaros watched her, gaze absent. “Yeah. You’re on in five.”
“What?” Kallia shot up, not the least bit graceful. “But … I’m last. I can’t possibly be next.”
“Well, tonight is your lucky night. A few contestants dropped out at the last minute, so Rayne insisted on your act being moved.” Aaros whistled out a low breath. “You’re up.”
23
The theater hushed at the sharp, demanding clicks of her heels. An entry rhythm that pulled every attention in the room under her spell, while the glow of stage lights illuminated her arrival. She’d chosen her armor well that night: a velvet backless dress of midnight blue clinging to her like ink and flaring out over her legs. The plunging neckline was risqué, even outside of Glorian, but Kallia had no care. Without even a word, she already had them all in the palm of her hand.
Anticipation crackled beneath her skin at the sight of the shadowed attendees flooding the rows of the show hall. Goose bumps traveled across her flesh, but she quelled her shiver. She relished the pinch of fear as it sparked every nerve, shooting adrenaline into her body and a clarity emptying her mind of all thought, all worry.
She narrowed in on the long table before her. All judges accounted for. Even Demarco.
“Ah, finally without your helpers,” the mayor declared in what he might’ve considered a joking tone. “What, no raucous parade tonight?”
At his resounding chuckle, Kallia gave an equally coy laugh. “Not yet.”
The judges’ smiles dropped, while a few hollers burst from the front row. Her behavior no longer earned full-fledged shock, but delight. Excitement. And she wasn’t foolish enough to lean into that safety by delivering the same act again. She had to pull off something new, daring in a different way.
Behind the curtain at her right, Canary and the Conquerors waited with their instruments in tow to play to whatever mood the performance called for. Aaros stood at her left, ready if needed. Her best cards on her, even if they stayed at the sides. She just had to play them right, and at the right time.
Through the trapdoors of the stage emerged a small cloth-covered table at the center, and an