“I don’t think he will,” Daron admitted, brushing the thought away. “The moment Spectaculore shuts down, so will Glorian. And Erasmus is a persuasive devil. He’d never allow it.”
“What about you?” Aaros walked his fingers slowly against his glass. “You don’t think this is a case for the Patrons?”
“You mean, am I going to tattle?” He stared hard at the bottom of his glass, willing it to refill by itself. “Despite what everyone thinks, I’m not a Patron. I’m not my aunt.”
“No. You’re not. If you were, you would’ve shipped Kallia off as soon as she stepped on that stage.”
“I almost did.” No matter how much the drink had numbed his insides, the truth of it pricked at him. How not too long ago, he would’ve happily sent Kallia on her way out just to preserve his own image. His own sanity.
Something in him twinged at the thought of her departure now, for had he gone through with it, then he would not be here hiding behind a glass. She would not be hurt. And tonight would never have happened.
“But you didn’t…” Aaros mused, considering him intently, glancing around furtively. “You better not go spreading this around, judge, but I might go mad if I don’t tell someone. And you’re as good as any.”
At that, he had Daron’s undivided attention.
“Before I came down here, Kallia told me it had all been a slipup. A moment gone out of control that sent the dagger into the mirror.”
“So it was an accident?”
“At first that’s what I thought. You know, a little embarrassment. Trying to save face and all that.” Aaros’s fingers drummed nervously. “Until I remembered, right before her act, the mirror in her dressing room had also been broken.”
A chill went up Daron’s spine. “What happened?”
“Not sure, but I don’t think it was any accident.” Aaros lifted his drink without taking a sip. “Ever since I met her, she’s been twitchy around mirrors. No clue why.”
To hear they shared a fear so specific unnerved Daron. “Mirrors are not only a tool for vanity, you know.”
“Clearly there’s a lot I don’t,” the assistant admitted. “But I do know what Kallia is capable of. Do you really think she would lose her grasp on something as little as a dagger?”
“I … I don’t know, maybe. When tackling that sort of illusion? It’s hard magic to work with,” Daron countered, shoving out the laughing hypocrite in him. “But I can’t entertain the idea of her wanting to bring harm to an audience member when she was the first one to cover her.”
“I don’t think her target was the girl at all.” Aaros blinked, his tone turning careful. “Remember when you told me that the last time you visited Kallia, something was off? A look of fear in her face?”
Daron nodded, wary. “And I remember quite clearly you laughing it off, saying she feared nothing.”
“That was before,” the assistant whispered. “Before tonight.”
* * *
Kallia hiked the strap against her shoulder, panting out breaths in sharp, white clouds. Far too cold for her to be out, but there was no other option.
She’d gone over the disastrous performance a thousand times, and each time the shadow arrived, she froze. From where Kallia had stood, she couldn’t see what the others viewed in the mirror, but it was in their eyes, in the air as it began walking closer. He began walking closer.
And yet, it was the rose that set her off.
Kallia had been rushed to her room after the show, ready to collapse and never wake. She’d never known such fatigue. Her back ached and her muscles trembled as Aaros sat her down at her vanity stool to keep her alert, waiting for the doctor to tend to her wounds. Patches of damp stickiness over her sleeves and her back marked the blood. She hissed in pain as the air bit at her cuts. Her fingers flexed and dragged over the vanity’s surface, reaching for the bit of cloth she kept by the covered mirror, and stilled.
She blinked hard, waiting for her vision to clear. For her head to stop playing tricks.
But no matter how long she stared, the image remained: the rose on the cloth was dying. Petals had fallen, the frayed edges speckled in red, as if pieces of the rose had disintegrated in their descent.
It felt like a message.
Ruined and wrong, just like everything else.
Kallia took in a shuddering breath as she ducked into the streets. With every sudden movement, her back ached,