When Night Breaks

by Janella Angeles

  “Older than old, you say?” Lottie cleared her throat. “Perhaps she’ll remember something useful, then.”

  “There’s nothing to remember. Nothing off, nothing strange.” Aaros shook his head. “This is pointless.”

  “There’s always something to remember. Or there should be,” she fired back. “Do you remember the last mayor before Eilin? Any unrest? The last time any real crime crossed these city streets? Petty thievery not included.”

  Aaros didn’t even have it in him to look offended. Only confused. “I don’t know what exactly it is you’re looking for. Before Spectaculore, Glorian’s always been peaceful.”

  “That’s not how cities work. Nothing is ever always peaceful,” Lottie stressed. “Either that’s the lie you’ve always told yourself, or have been told all along. You’ve really never questioned a single thing about the world you’ve lived in, even once?”

  “Do you?”

  “All the time. Especially now,” Lottie answered soberly. “Why do you think I do what I do for a living?”

  “Because you like to question everything?”

  “So why do you feel the need to question nothing?”

  Daron was tempted to step between them at that point, but Aaros had already risen from his seat. He didn’t glance in either of their ways, though in passing, he was noticeably shaken as he strode away. The Patrons must’ve left their watch by then, for Aaros had already slammed the door behind him before Daron could utter a warning.

  The silence lingering afterward pressed from all sides.

  “You knew.” Daron inhaled deeply before setting his sharp stare on the woman across from him. “You asked him all those questions, knowing he wouldn’t be able to answer them.”

  Lottie pressed her lips tight. “I didn’t need to be convinced. You and I have both known something about this city is not right. This only just confirmed those suspicions.”

  “So you believe him? The mayor?”

  “Why not?” She raised a definitive brow at him. “You were so ready to believe him at his word about a map. Why not believe this as well?”

  A fair point. He couldn’t pick and choose what was truth and what was madness. It was either entirely one or entirely the other. “I just don’t see how it all connects. Especially to Kallia, it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Perhaps the reason is in why dear old Cataline went all rogue.” Lottie tapped her fingers against her chin. “The Patrons would never act unless there’s a threat. Or unless something of what the mayor said was the threat.”

  Daron swallowed hard at the idea, so against everything he knew his aunt to be. “These are all hypotheticals.”

  “For now. We need answers.” She crossed her legs, assessing him intently. “And you’re going to get them.”

  “Me?” He grimaced. “I’m the last person she’s going to want to see.”

  “Of course not, you’re family. Play that card hard while you still can.”

  Nothing about this turn in the conversation sat well with Daron. “If you remember not too long ago, she had me forcibly hauled off the premises and out of her sight,” he said. “She would never just tell me anything.”

  “Obviously, it wouldn’t be that easy. You’ll need to be a little more artful than that.”

  “No, I mean we have not spoken in almost two years. My aunt would never just trust me implicitly with her dark secrets.”

  “So you were a terrible nephew for a short time.” She shrugged. “Put on your best apology face and change that. Grovel. You’re still important to her in ways the rest of us could never be—so you have the advantage,” she said. “How else do you think I’ve kept Erasmus Rayne on a string all these years?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  Her expression slitted. “He loved me. Might love me still, but the dent I left in his little heart is the kind that’ll never go away. Love is a scar like that. And pressing on it can come in handy sometimes.”

  The lengths Lottie would go to for her work shouldn’t have surprised Daron in the slightest. For whatever heart she may have possessed, she’d still always be the Poison of the Press. “Do you love him back, though?”

  Lottie tilted her head to the side, as if the question were new to her ears. “Not the point,” she said in such a carefree manner, resuming her shrewd assessment.

  “Love is a way in. Use it.”

  6

  Kallia’s jaw hung at the pretend city before her eyes.

  It wore the bones of the Glorian she knew, but the flesh stretched over it was not the same. She knew that much just from looking beyond the gates—the lights flashing and colors dancing across her vision, raucous laughter mingling with music echoing in the air, mocking her from afar.

  “Is this a joke?” Kallia’s scoff rasped in her throat. Her first arrival in Glorian, which already felt like ages ago, had welcomed her with nothing but silence. Scornful looks and ice in the air so biting, not even her cloak could shield her from it.

  Nothing of that world existed in this one.

  As expected, Jack was the picture of calm rolling back his shoulders. “It’s just an illusion.”

  “Just?” She had never seen one on such a large scale, with so much life and detail in it even from a faraway glance. Standing just outside the gate, the familiar shapes of spires and roofs peeking beyond the gate tops. All of it overwhelmed her. A city. Even she couldn’t fathom re-creating such a feat, and maintaining it as a living, breathing place at that. The choice, above all, haunted her more than anything. “Why Glorian?”

  “You’d have to ask the magician behind the illusion.” He assessed the city with not nearly as much awe. “Of all the places, who knows why he chose to bring this one to life.”

  That immediately edged her curiosity. “Who is it?”

  It shouldn’t have surprised her, the silence that met her question. Just when she thought she’d calmed, the spark of rage lit inside her again. “Jack.”

  “Let’s keep moving,” he said, the city flashing before them. “Knowledge comes at a price, behind those gates. And the less you can claim to know, the better.”

  Every curse imaginable flashed through Kallia’s head. She could wring his neck. Her fingers clawed with the temptation, but she needed him alive more than she wanted him dead.

  “Do you honestly believe that, or do you think I’m just stupid?” she hissed, keeping at his side. “In case you haven’t noticed, that philosophy hasn’t exactly worked out so well for you, either.”

  Clearly, from the way he watched the city—like some ghost he thought he’d long since banished—returning was the last thing he imagined would happen. The fact that it did, against every secret and lie told, was as unnerving as it was satisfying. He might’ve been the Master of Hellfire House before, in control of every part of the show. But this world beyond the mirror had shown it would not be controlled.

  A resigned sigh slipped under his breath. “The magician behind the city goes by the Dealer. If you find him, or he finds you, a deal will be struck whether you intended to enter one or not.”

  Kallia crossed her arms tightly. “I don’t make deals with strangers I’ve only just met.”

  “You don’t?” At his pause, she felt his eyes briefly run over her before their gazes touched. The way they had, that night they’d first met years ago.

  How would you like to know more?

  It was all she’d ever craved, and one look had told her Jack could give it to her. She said yes to the stranger, and he delivered on all that he’d promised.

  In the end, she’d gotten exactly what she wanted: more.

  More than she’d expected, and far more than she bargained for.

  “I’m a fast learner.” Icily, she drew back her shoulders and kept walking. The closer they reached this Glorian, the more people there would be. No more alone time with Jack, which she could not wait for. “Sounds like you and the Dealer aren’t friends, all things considered.”


  “The Dealer doesn’t have friends. He has favorites.”

  Kallia didn’t know what to do with that information, with anything Jack dispensed even though that’s what she wanted. With all the sides to his words, there was no telling which way they truly fell.

  Still, it was rare to see Jack wary of anybody. That, alone, drew her attention.

  “And let me guess, you’re not one of them?” She tilted her head, studying him. “Yet you’re suggesting we go through?”

  With a humorless snort, Jack gestured to the surrounding darkness at their backs. “Given the options, would you rather return to that?” He turned on his heel with a grim shrug, as though what lay ahead was no more appealing. “It’s a power-hungry city, but you’d at least be safe from what lies out there.”

  Kallia shivered at the thought of walking out into the shadowy, wind-ridden path again, her memories stretched thin while she stared hard at her shoes to keep from drowning.

  She’d have a much better chance leaving this world altogether in the place where she’d have her head on her shoulders. Where her magic would come back.

  There was not much else left to lose.

  She didn’t look back as she stepped right up to the threshold. The air around her quieted, tightening as though she were walking onstage for the first time. That held breath, before the spotlight hit.

  The streets glowed. That was her first observation when her feet touched the flattened cobblestones that radiated different colors with every step. Like coals simmering under the stones, a burning rainbow. Devilish red to lush orange to petal pink, and the air about them even mirrored the shades of the streets in the faintest hues. Like breathing in the very colors themselves.

  Power. She felt it on those streets, in the air.

  She didn’t even check to see if Jack followed. She began to relax on a deep inhale, waiting for that flame to rush beneath her skin, restored.

  Patiently, she waited.

  And waited.

  “How do you feel?”

  Her eyes snapped open when she felt him come up behind her. His question, a mockery more than anything. Even when she tried to pull on her power, there was that tug of pain. Resistance. As though her heart were fighting against her.

  Nothing.

  Warmth stung, blurred her vision. She’d throw herself to the devils first before showing any of it.

  “You lied,” she fumed, slowly whirling around. “You told me it would—”

  Kallia’s heart stuttered to a stop, felt the world go with it.

  Jack’s face scrunched harder in confusion. He spoke in mumbles she could hardly hear, a dull echo, slow as the crawl of night. She didn’t care to decipher.

  The gate they’d just entered was gone.

  Gone.

  It was a sight straight from her memory. She didn’t remember seeing a wall while walking around the outskirts of this city, but it rose around her now. And it sealed at the point of entry in smooth, untouched stone.

  Just like before, when Glorian had become a cage.

  “Where is it?” Hands shaking, Kallia didn’t have the heart to bring them up to the wall. She knew what it felt like, that panic would consume her the moment she pressed at the stone.

  “Where is what?”

  Something about Jack’s tone snapped her back, the daze cleared from her mind. Startling clarity rushed through her as she took in Jack’s stance—crossed arms, the dubious arch of his brow—and the realization slammed into her.

  He lied.

  Jack always lied.

  One moment he stood watching her warily, and the next he was on the ground. Kallia heaved in a breath, her hands searing to shove him back down again. “I’m so stupid.”

  Jack lied. The one warning she knew for certain, and she’d chosen to believe. The foolish mouse, following the crumbs straight into the trap.

  Now she had no power and no way out.

  “You mean you actually want to go back out there?” Jack remained on the ground, propped up on his elbows. “What is this about—”

  “Fuck off, Jack.”

  Kallia couldn’t take another lie from him, couldn’t think as she turned and ran. Through raucous groups, between the ever-beating traffic of carriages and cyclists. The chaos of the streets provided the perfect cover to hide. Color and magic burst in every direction. It would be impossible to find her. Already, she breathed easier as Jack’s desperate calls faded from her ears.

  But there was color, so much of it.

  After walking in darkness for so long, every shade and hue felt like a new discovery. Every detail, a dream. Lip tints that sparkled and gilded eye paints that swirled across the face, noble coats that seemed lined with starlight, and ruched gowns layered in impossible jewel-bright shadows. No proper coats or furs, for the air swept over them like a hot summer night, burning with both sweetness and smoke at each inhale.

  So many gowns pulled hard at her envy, especially as she’d never felt more out of place in her ripped dress. No finesse, no flair. By some miracle, no one took notice of her disheveled state. They were lost in the revelry, drunk on each other.

  It was a wonder this city was still standing with its entire populace dancing and swaying over the cobblestones.

  Kallia veered away from stumblers taking down victims unfortunate enough to be in their path of fire. A trio of ladies arm-in-arm knocked into a line of gentlemen who fell over like empty bottles. No fury, from the roars of laughter bursting from each party. Nearly everyone Kallia walked past strode blissfully clumsy, and she hissed each time the swift, gem-encrusted carriages darted through streams of people, fast as bullets. No one else seemed concerned, or worried about anything else other than their own enjoyment.

  She wished for more eyes to take it all in, her gaze snagging on everything in its path. Every sensation pulled and invited her to join. To walk down the streets she’d ventured down countless times.

  Except this was not Glorian. Just its skeleton doused in celebration like oil and flame in this strange, new city. The Conquering Circus had brought life to the streets she’d known—but what took over these streets now felt far beyond life. It was utter pandemonium.

  She had to take as much advantage of it as she could. Even with a good head start, she wouldn’t underestimate Jack. Each time she shot glances over her shoulder, she kept waiting for his shadow to appear among this explosion of color.

  Hopefully the world was as much a minefield of distractions for him as it was for her. Beyond the volume of color, shows went on in every direction. From packed sidewalks to gatherings right in the middle of the road. A girl shuffling a deck of cards before sending them flying up like birds in formation. A pair of musicians playing from glowing flutes that somehow produced the sound of an entire orchestra bursting all around them. A couple of men partnered up beside them, executing grand lifts and tosses in the air, spins so fast they almost blurred.

  Such overwhelming impossibility. A competition of every sense and sight. She couldn’t even dare dream up such extravagant acts, such demanding choreography that her bones tensed at the thought of trying them on her own.

  It hardly even bothered her when the few bystanders that did take notice of her presence whispered and pointed her way. Some threw glances as they continued down sidewalks. She was just as fascinated by them.

  Who were these people?

  “They’re real.”

  Kallia whirled around at the raised voice. Not Jack’s, but another. A dark-skinned boy no older than her, watching her as he leaned against a lamppost lit with ever-changing colors. The sleek gold-framed spectacles over the bridge of his nose glinted beneath the radiance, as did the amused smile he wore. “Sorry. You just look as though you’re wading through a dreamland. Which I guess is true, depending on who you ask.”

  “Excuse me?” After hours of speaking only to Jack, with the music and laughter blaring in her ears right after, simple conversation with another threw her off. “What are you talking about—wh
at’s real?”

  He pushed off the lamppost—pausing for a group of giggling ladies chased by a devilishly masked figure—before nearing Kallia. “Everyone you see here. Of course, there are harmless illusions among us. Friends, lovers, spectators, stage candy … you can build it all here,” he said, flaunting his hands about him. “Every illusion is tied to a magician.”

  Illusions. With an illusion of a city, a city full of them made a perfect kind of sense. It became all the more clear as she peered closer at those who passed, some moving through the crowds as though they breathed a different air. Some expressions were filled with emptiness, while others overcompensated in attire far too outrageous. Though in a world such as this, discerning the illusions from the magicians was no easy distinction. Even when she’d known only illusions for so much of her life.

  She gave the boy a closer look, unsure what to make of him. He had a strange and carefree way about him, with a rare clarity in his eyes. Absent in so many around her. “And what are you, magician or illusion?”

  The stranger barked out a laugh. “Buy me a drink first before getting so personal.” He caught his breath, throwing a hand over his chest. “Alas, I got here the same way you did, fell through the cracks of a mirror right into this performers’ paradise.”

  Kallia’s guard went up at the casualness with which he said it all. Falling into mirrors was no normal practice, and yet magicians seemed to be performing every ten paces she stepped. Surely such a phenomenon could not go without notice in her world. Though in a world well-hidden, as Jack claimed, anything could happen.

  “You’re really not from around here, are you?”

  The boy continued assessing her curiously, as though she were a rarity. But the slight drawl of pity was not lost on her.

  Her fists tightened. “What makes you say that?”

  “For starters, your dress isn’t even artfully torn, it’s just … something the style houses here would have the biggest fuss about.” He grimaced. “Most of all, you’ve got that look about you. Freshly fallen. Like all of this is somehow new to you.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Fun and games get old pretty fast once you’ve been here long enough.”