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“Follow my lead,” he whispers. “When I say to, arch your back and let go.”

I nod silently. The audience murmurs below us, confused and awed at the same time. Tobias releases the knife, letting it fall to the stage with a dramatic clatter that silences the crowd. His hands find mine, positioning them on the hoop.

“True illusion isn’t just what you see —” Tobias is projecting his voice to the crowd, taking control of the moment. “But also, what you don’t.”

His body presses into mine as we start to spin faster. Where Kenan is thrill and danger, Tobias is grace and control. His hands never leave my body as we twist and contort within the small circle of metal. The lace of my bodysuit catches on the buttons of his coat.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers against my cheek. “Now.”

I arch back, letting my grip loosen from the hoop. For a terrifying moment, I think he’ll let me fall completely, then Tobias’s arms wrap firmly around me. A rush of air has my stomach dropping and Tobias’s grip tightening.

The crowd erupts in gasps and applause. I can hear them, but I can’t see them, can’t see anything … and then their voices fade.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Tobias commands. “Just a few more seconds.”

My body feels weightless, as if I’m not suspended in anything. The sensation is like floating in deep water.

“Open your eyes,” he says.

I blink, adjusting to the dim light backstage. We are no longer even on stage. Somehow, in the span of seconds, Tobias transported us both behind the curtains.

“How did you … ?” I start to ask, but my stomach lurches violently. The room spins and I double over, my body rejecting whatever just happened. I’ve felt this before, when I left his mirrored tent. I barely have time to turn before I’m retching onto the ground. My knees buckle and I drop to all fours, my entire body trembling.

“Breathe through it,” Tobias mutters, gathering my hair away from my face. “It’s been a long time since I took someone through the mirrors for the first time. At least, that far anyway.”

“Mirrors?” I manage to ask between heaves. Honestly, it wasn’t that far … just from my ring to behind the scenes.

“Think of them as pockets of space, if you wish,” Tobias says. “Where things can exist without existing. It’s how I move through The Carnival unseen when needed. It connects to my mirrors.”

I try to focus on his words instead of the churning of my stomach, but it proves challenging. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not everything that is real has to make sense, Little Bird.”

Before I can question him further, the backstage curtain rips open. Kenan storms in, his face a thundercloud of emotion as he pulls the skull mask down. His emerald eyes look at me, checking me from head to toe before his gaze falls to Tobias.

“What the fuck was that?” He growls as he advances toward Tobias. “You could have killed her!”

Tobias straightens, releasing me as he turns to face Kenan. “Me? You’re the one who nearly put a knife through her skull.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Kenan snarls, stepping closer until they are chest to chest. “Something was on the floor —”

“And you didn’t check your surroundings?” Tobias cuts him off, his voice dangerously quiet. “Amateur mistakes for someone who’s been here for so long.”

I watch them circling like wolves. Kenan’s hands ball into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening, but he doesn’t strike. The only indicator that Tobias is upset is the thumping of the vein in his jaw.

“You could have killed her with that little disappearing stunt,” Kenan snaps back, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it. “Taking someone who’s ... fully alive ... through the mirrors? She could have lost her mind completely! She’s not officially in The Carnival!”

“Better than losing her life, is it not?” Tobias counters, his painted face still calm despite the storm that Kenan brought with him through the curtains.

I push myself to my feet, still dizzy. My stomach lurches again, but I swallow hard against the nausea. “Both of you … need to stop.”

They ignore me completely.

“As you said, I’ve been throwing knives for almost three hundred and forty-three years.” Kenan continues, “I’ve never missed.”

They speak as if the number of years between them isn’t ridiculous, yet he doesn’t look a day over thirty-three. Layla said she was taken around 1953. What does that —

“Until tonight,” Tobias interrupts my thoughts, “when it mattered most.”