During my act, I scan the rows for Luca but don’t find him anywhere. My stage smile falters a bit, but I regain my composure enough to produce the illusion of a giant bird, the size of the tent and more. Every person in the room rides on its back through thunderclouds that light the sky in blinding flashes of violet. It all runs smoothly until I trip on my Strings and fall, tearing a sizable rip down the side of my cloak.
After the show, Blister isn’t there to give out high fives.
“Luca wasn’t there?” Venera asks from her usual perch at her vanity.
“Is that theboy—” Hawk starts.
I flick her on the forehead, and she clamps her mouth shut. I’m already so nervous that my stomach is cramping up. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to see him now.” My words sound brave, but it’s all a farce. I wipe off my rouge, and it smears pink down my cheek. I look like a clown.
“A date?”
“Sure,” I lie. If you can call hunting down the murderer of your uncle and brother a date. Nothing we’ve done has ever been even remotely romantic. Even the party was a business rendezvous for Luca.
“Make sure he comes tomorrow night,” Venera says. “So I can decide if he’s worthy.”
* * *
I decided to leave on my black lipstick from the show to remind Luca—without needing to tell him outright—that the Freak Show has reopened. When I enter his tent, relieved that he is indeed all in one piece, I catch him staring at my lips from where he’s sitting on the corner of his bamboo floor, and he quickly shifts his gaze to his hands.
My stomach churns.
“How was reopening night?” he asks.
“Not so dandy,” I say. “Tree was on his absoluteworstbehavior, and Unu and Du’s language made a few audience members gasp.”
“I’m sure your act was mesmerizing,” he says. “And I’m sorry I missed it. I intend to catch tomorrow night’s show.”
I mentally decide to wear my scarlet mask, which Venera always tells me is alluring.
“Should I start wearing makeup for my show, too?” he asks. “I could paint my lips blue, like a corpse.” He smiles at his own morbid joke.
I wince. The memory of his head rolling off the stage to my feet now seems more like a nightmare than a dark parlor trick.
I sit beside him. As soon as I open my mouth to speak, he rises to pour himself a glass of gin. I watch—impatiently—as he finishes the whole glass.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says.
“Is that a good thing? You told me you drink gin to make yourself nicer.”
He white-knuckles his glass. “Have you heard what people say about me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“You’re missing eyes, Sorina, not ears.”
I cross my arms. Yes, I’ve heard the rumors—from both NicoletaandVenera now—but I don’t know what to think of them. If I even believe them. “Is there something you want to tell me? Because I’d rather hear it from you.” I probably don’t have any right making demands of him, but I really want to hear what he has to say.
“As I told you, I’ve never been in this position.”
“What position?” I snap.Iinitiated the kiss.I’mthe one who feels completely mortified. What position could he possibly be talking about?
“This.” He gestures wildly between the two of us. “I spend my free time investigating people, studying people. Every single aspect of their lives. And half of my information comes from prettyworkers. I know people’s desires and the most intimate details of their relationships. And I’ve never understood them. I’ve never wanted or neededthatin my life.”
“And what isthat?” I ask.
“The thing you’re asking for. The thing everyone expects.”
“I’m not asking for anything.” I’ve never seen Luca get this worked up. Not about assassins, not during the havoc in Cartona...but apparently one kiss is enough to cause a breakdown.
