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Chapter 38
Ididn’t need to see the little girl swinging back and forth to feel the power rippling through the burlesque theater in waves. Had Drexel discovered my plan, he would have pulled her from the show. But his cockiness would be his downfall.
Every inch of my nerves rattled as the lights fell. Paesha ran off stage, locking eyes with me as she dipped her chin, still panting from her seductive performance. A silent good luck before the world could break. I’d avoided searching for Orin backstage, hoping if I didn’t see him, he wouldn’t see me. Both times I’d sat in the crowd, he hadn’t been buried in the orchestra pit, but I couldn’t help my glance around the thick, black curtain searching for those familiar, angry eyes.
I began walking to the center of the stage when a hand grabbed me. I whipped around, immediately on the defense, until I met Thea’s giant green eyes framed by her pretty red hair.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“Poor choice of timing,” I answered, nerves so rattled that every heartbeat was a thunderous echo in my chest, each breath a chore.
“They have to clear the stage before the next act.”
“I am the next act, Thea.”
She stumbled backward, head snapping to some point across the space. “You can’t be serious. What did you do?”
“Later,” I said, ripping myself away from her strong hands to move to the center of the dark stage.
The soft murmurs of the crowd did not cease. A gasp did not come. I waited and waited until movement at my side caught my attention. Though nearly pitch black, a single light at the very back of the cavernous room had been left on, and I could just make out the shape of a giant hourglass being wheeled out. Thea’s handiwork, no doubt. A man turned, showing only the white of his eyes as he grabbed a handle on the side of the contraption and spun, effectively starting my ten-minute timer before sneaking behind the curtain just as the final bit of light vanished. That’s what Thea was worried about.
I sucked in a heavy breath, ready for the music to begin as the soft sound of sand falling accompanied my racing heart. But the spotlight never came, and the stage was too dark for the crowd to see me.
In shadows cast, can brilliance shine?
The fucking loophole. Of course, he didn’t care if Quill was here. It wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t see me. Each grain of sand became a crackle of panic.
I wasn’t a singer or a poet. I wasn’t a dancer. Nor an actress with a grand soliloquy. I was just a desperate woman with no plan and a lonely heart. I ran to the side of the stage, halting at the very last second. Was I allowed to leave the stage? I couldn’t remember. But it didn’t matter because everyone behind the curtains was gone. Not a soul remained. I whipped around, facing the audience, who’d grown louder and impatient in the dark theater. Trying desperately, I could not make out a single face.
Minutes had passed, and the chokehold of the Maestro’s grip on my destiny tightened until I could hardly breathe. I fell to my knees in a contraption of rubies made by an old man who’d shown me nothing but kindness. I squeezed my eyes closed, covering my ears, shutting out the groans of the crowd as I pictured the stage in my memory. Each step, each wrinkle in the black fabric curtains, each lamp, the golden birdcage showcasing the eventual capture of an innocent child.
Gods. The stage was encircled by a border of oil lamps. Oil. I crawled forward, hands outstretched, searching almost blindly for the edge. If I fell off, my fate was sealed. Several more minutes had already passed, though. Precious minutes. Gathering the lanterns as fast as I could, spilling the oil in an arc that ended at the base of the hourglass, I hustled. Ripping a small piece of the lace, I created a wick. Gathering my courage as adrenaline coursed through my body, I rested a hand on Chaos’s pommel. The instructions were clear. I couldn’t draw a weapon. The heels, though glorious and lethal in their own way, would do nothing for me. I had no flint. No metal at all. Only a slickened floor and absolute panic.
But that wasn’t true. I did have metal.
Sending a prayer to whatever god would hear my plea, I wrapped a hand around a cluster of rubies trailing down my side, and screamed as I ripped the clasp free in one smooth motion, striking it upon the iron base of the hourglass. No spark. But the crowd fell silent.
Again, I struck. Again, I failed.
And though I felt alone, and like I was falling from a cliff, a single, glorious cello note pierced the stale air. I knew without looking it was him. As if I could feel him through our marriage bond, a heart as desperate as mine when he’d realized the stage was not empty.
The next spark was a perfect arch into damp fabric, igniting the entire stage in one fell swoop. I couldn’t see beyond the burst of flames. Could hear nothing but the soft beginning of a single cello’s lament. Because, though the orchestra had been ordered not to play, somewhere behind me, my husband had no such order.
A hush fell over the crowd as they drank me in, as they saw the desperate eyes of Death’s Maiden standing upon a burning stage in woven rubies. Quill’s magic pulsed like a heartbeat. One shared amongst friends. And so, I danced. Stretching my arms and trailing my hands over my body as I’d seen the women that commanded the stage do. The fire was my partner, an unpredictable and passionate companion. I had started it for light, but now it was a living entity, mirroring my every move, casting eerie shadows as the heat licked my legs, and I swung my hips, hoping I looked half as sensual as Paesha.
Floor crackling, fire spreading, I smoothed a hand across my collar bone, pretending the touch belonged to Orin. I spun, touching my breasts, keeping my chin down as if I were not afraid. As if the world were truly mine and I was in control. As if I coaxed the fear from the audience and molded it into sinful lust, daring them to want to touch me. To hear the sounds I would make, should they be brave enough to try.
I couldn’t see the red-haired man in that special seat atop his theater. I couldn’t hear the growl that had surely come from him. But I hoped he watched. I hoped he watched and every godsdamned vein in his body filled with ire as his precious stage burned because he’d tried to outsmart me.
That desperate act sat upon my soul as a giant fuck you. Turning the stage to ash pushed me onward as Orin’s song grew in volume and tempo. I sauntered closer to the fire, feeling its warmth against my skin, a fierce contrast to the cool air that now seemed like a distant memory. The audience’s faces were a blur, their sounds muted by the crackling inferno that stood between us. I reveled in the solitude of the flames, the sensation of being both isolated and connected.
My fingers brushed against the hourglass as I circled it, my touch gentle yet deliberate. I could feel the sand slipping away, each grain a fleeting moment in time. I danced. I danced for the people that had become my friends, but also for myself. Breaking free of the chains of a princess and the angry words of a mourning father. Of the glares from a fallen kingdom and the fear in that child’s eyes on my wedding day. My body responded to the haunting music. My hips swayed in rhythm, a slow undulation. I spun and spun as gracefully as a sword fighter and threw my hands in my hair until the grains of sand had nearly vanished and the fire had grown from my ankles to my shoulders, concealing me. The music ended on a crescendo. I collapsed to the floor, breathless and spent.
And then they stood. From Quill’s magic or a frenzied attempt to see over the flames and get another glimpse at Death’s Maiden, I wasn’t sure, but they stood. The applause erupted like a tidal wave, washing over me in a rush of sound. I had danced amidst the flames, a phoenix rising from the ashes of my own creation. It was a battle hard fought and barely won, but victory, nonetheless. I crawled from that stage, avoiding the eyes of the performers that ran to extinguish the fire.
“I think it’s fair to say there won’t be a show tomorrow night,” Paesha said. She handed me a robe with far more coverage than the one I’d been given from Hollis as I climbed the steps from the tunnel into the warehouse, holding my broken outfit in place as best I could.
“Probably a good thing,” Thea said, pointing behind me.
