A second catches it behind her back.
A third snatches it mid-spin and disappears into a loop of silk before releasing it again in a graceful arc.
The court murmurs in delight.
Dazzled by the performance.
Maireth does not look at the performance.
Her eyes remain fixed on Elyssara. And Elyssara can feel it like a hand closing around her throat.
“Watch carefully,” Maireth instructs, voice rigid yet daring. “Can you follow the light, Elyssara?”
But it’s not a question. It’s a challenge. The words land between them like the opening move of a chess match. And Elyssara has never been one to shy away from a challenge.
Elyssara lifts her gaze again.
The acrobats are moving faster now, crossing paths high above the crowd. The glowing sphere passes from hand to hand—or appears to. One performer tucks it beneath her knee as she swings upside down. Another flips through the silks and catches it in the crook of her elbow.
For a moment the light vanishes entirely behind a sweep of crimson fabric.
Then it reappears.
The audience follows it with eager eyes.
This game is common, apparently.
But Elyssara does not watch where they watch.
She watches the weight of it.
The subtle dip of a wrist when it changes hands.
The faint shadow the sphere casts against the silk when it passes behind a performer’s body.
She tracks the rhythm of the exchange—the fraction of a heartbeat between the toss and the catch.
It moves again.
Then again.
Then…
There.
Elyssara’s eyes narrow.
Maireth tilts her head slightly.
“Well?” the queen asks, voice calm as still water. “Which one holds it now?”
The performers freeze mid-motion.
Silks sway gently above the court.
Every eye turns to Elyssara.
She lifts her hand.
