Chapter Five

The following night, Harrow peeked around the last caravan in the row, stomach churning with nerves. Sure enough, a guard was sitting outside the tent. She squinted to see clearer.

She was pretty sure it was Oli. The fox Hybrid was slumped forward in his chair, chin to chest, and she could hear his snores from where she stood.

She smiled to herself. Sure, Salizar was scary, but nobody else in their circus was, and they certainly weren’t trained for enduring a grueling night watch.

She wasn’t complaining. In fact, this was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

Hefting the heavy bag higher on her shoulder, she double-checked the coast was clear and then ducked out from her hiding place and strode quickly toward the tent. Though it was difficult to fight the urge, she didn’t run—if someone did spot her, it would look far less suspicious if she was walking like she had every right to be there.

Which she did, she assured herself. The circus was her home, and Salizar hadn’t told anyone what he had hidden in his tent, so there was no reason for her not to take a midnight stroll nearby.

With a bag full of food on one shoulder?

Whatever. If she was caught, she would bluff her way out of it.

Rather than going through the front entrance and risking waking Oli, she crept around to the side closest to the big top and slipped into the gap between the two tents. From there, she dropped to her knees, shoved her heavy bag under the canvas, and then rolled inside much the same way she had escaped the night before.

It was pitch-black.

Heart in her throat, she fumbled in the dark until she found her supply bag and loosened the ties, feeling around inside until her fingers clasped the candle. Next, she dug out the matches. She struck one, and a tiny flame illuminated the tent.

Raith was crouched at the edge of his cage grasping the bars, staring right at her.

It was obvious he’d known it was her all along, and she wondered if he had heightened senses like Hybrids. Perhaps he could see better than her in the dark or he had recognized her scent.

“Hello,” she whispered into the heavy quiet. Her stomach was positively writhing with nerves, but the Water continued to whisper to her that he was important. That she needed to be there. That she needed to learn more about him.

It was those urges that pushed her to heft the bag and cross the tent to stand before him, holding the candle aloft between them. The bottom of the cage was at her waist height, so her standing and him crouching put them at eye level. She was glad because she could tell he was big. If they were to stand on even ground, he would tower over her.

“Hello,” she said again, though it made her feel bumbling and awkward.

He blinked those strange eyes and said nothing. She hadn’t expected him to. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem used to speaking, and she wondered why. She wanted to ask but didn’t dare.

“Are you hungry? I brought you some food.”

He blinked again.

“Does Salizar feed you? You’re not starving in here, are you?”

Still he said nothing. She hoped that meant he wasn’t.

She shifted on her feet. His silence was unnerving, to say the least, but she forced herself not to be cowed. “I would have brought you a plate from dinner, but it’s a little awkward to fit that in a bag. But I did bring you some dessert. It’s hardly a balanced meal, but…”

Trailing off, she set the candle and the bag on the ground and then stuffed a hand inside. After some digging, she pulled out the cookies she had carefully wrapped in a cloth napkin, holding them out to him. Her hand shook slightly, and she was well aware that if he wanted to grab her, he could. He could snatch her arm, yank her against the cage, and kill her before she even had time to blink.

But she didn’t think he would.

His head cocked, that silky hair falling into his face.

“They’re just cookies,” she told him in case he wasn’t sure. “Have you had cookies before?”

His head shook once.

“Well, you can try one if you want. You might like them.”

Slowly, one hand released the bars and stretched toward hers. He never took his eyes off her, as if he didn’t trust her not to attack. Funny, because she never took her eyes off him for the very same reason.

As a result, they stared directly at each other until it felt almost too intimate. Her heart was lodged in her throat, and it was hard to breathe, but her eyes were fused to his and there was no way she could look away.

His hand closed around the napkin bundle, and he pulled it back into the cage. Unwrapping it carefully with graceful fingers, he studied the cookies as if he’d never seen such a thing in his life and found them utterly fascinating.

A nervous chuckle escaped her. “They’re just cookies. They’re not that exciting.”

He set the bundle down and selected one, lifting it for closer inspection.

“Try a bite.”

His eyes narrowed, and he glared distrustfully at her. Did he think she would poison his food? Goddess, what had happened to him? What kind of cruelty had he faced to end up where he was? A determination rose within to show him that was not all that existed in the world.

As if he were following her thoughts, that distrustful look slowly bled from his features.

And then he took a bite.

She froze, holding her breath. Somehow, waiting to see his reaction to that silly cookie was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in years. He chewed, a frown creasing his brow.

His eyes widened slightly and shot back to hers as he swallowed.

“Do you like it?” She was beside herself. She had to know.

He looked down at the cookie and then back at her.

And then he smiled.

His mouth curved upward, creasing his cheeks. And his eyes… The real smile was in his eyes. The flames in them seemed to burn brighter, and they crinkled in the corners and took her breath away all over again.

Her own face split into a smile so wide it hurt. “You like it?”

He nodded.

She grinned. Ridiculously. “Me too. They’re my favorite.”

Raith picked up another cookie from the napkin and held it out to her.

Her smile dropped, and she stared at that outstretched hand as emotion choked her. He was being kept in a cage like an animal, yet his first instinct was to share with her. His smile was so genuine and guileless, looking at him felt like a fist squeezing her heart. How could Salizar do this to him? How could anyone ever want to hurt him?

He shook the cookie at her, reminding her to take it.

She accepted his gift and spoke around the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

They ate together in silence, holding eye contact the entire time. Her skin felt hot from the intensity of his attention, yet she had no desire to escape it. When the cookies were gone, they ate the fruit and the muffins and the scones and the cheese.

She passed them all to him to inspect, and after he tasted them and deemed them worthy, he passed some back to her to share. He didn’t speak a word the entire time. He didn’t need to. Somehow, she understood him perfectly.

After the food was gone, she pulled out an old book of Seer folktales and, though she felt silly and nearly lost her nerve, she offered to read him one. He nodded, and she ended up reading half the book. She stayed there until her candle burned down to a waxy stump and the walls of the tent started to turn a pale gray as the sun rose, and she knew it was time to go.

Climbing up from where she’d taken up residence on the ground, her back against the cage so Raith could follow over her shoulder, she stuffed everything back into her sack.

Turning to face him, she offered a smile. “Would you like me to visit again tomorrow?”

He looked hesitant, and her heart sank a little. She’d thought he’d enjoyed her company, but perhaps he would rather be left alone?

But then he said, “It’s not safe.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver running through her. “Don’t worry about me. I know how to be sneaky, and I won’t get caught.”

He said nothing, and she decided that meant he had enjoyed her company after all but was concerned for her safety. The relief she felt was stronger than it perhaps should have been.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Raith.” Smiling, she swung the considerably lighter bag over her shoulder. It was strange how badly she didn’t want to go.

He smiled back, and her heart raced.

She was definitely returning tomorrow.

…

Raith sat on the floor, leaning against the cage bars, and watched Salizar conversing in low tones with Loren. The new sign had been completed several days ago, spelling mistake-free, and the two men now discussed the terrible monster it described and how they would force it to entertain humans in the days to come.

Raith tuned out their conversation, uninterested in their constant plotting. Instead, he thought about the woman who visited him at night.

He thought about her a lot.

He pictured the rich tan of her skin and remembered how soft it was to touch. He tried to imagine whether her thick hair felt silky or coarse. He wondered if her scent, the soothing fragrance of lavender, would be stronger if he breathed it against her skin.

Every night, Harrow would sneak past the sleeping watchmen and bring Raith food and sweets and read more stories to him. His favorite was a tale of a terrible dragon who guarded a princess in a tower, slaughtering every man who came to rescue her and earn her hand in marriage. At the end of the tale, however, it was revealed that the princess and the dragon were actually the best of friends, and she thanked him daily for saving her from a loveless marriage.

Though Raith hadn’t found the courage to speak much, Harrow chatted away enough for both of them, telling him about her life at the circus, her friend Malaikah, and all the things they did together. She asked him questions about himself that he couldn’t answer, but she never pressed or seemed disappointed if he remained silent.

He lived for those late-night encounters, and during the day, he had caught himself forgetting to visualize killing Salizar, wondering instead what Harrow was doing at that moment. Was she reading fortunes for circus patrons? Spending time with Malaikah? He was desperate to understand her better but couldn’t quite bring himself to use his voice to inquire.

Salizar dismissed Loren from the tent and approached Raith. “Tonight’s show is beginning shortly, but before I go, you and I are going to have a chat.”

A week ago, Raith would have already been on his feet, snarling at his captor. Now, he was just bored. He wasn’t scared of Salizar or his magic stick, and he was sick and tired of being in a cage.

He lifted a brow, not even bothering to stand.

“Two weeks remain of our time in Allegra. For the final week, your sideshow will be open to the public. People will be admitted to your tent to glimpse the wraith. There are two things I need from you to complete our performance.”

Raith just looked at him blandly.

“If you perform without complaint, it will be painless. If you do not, I will force you. It makes no difference to me which you choose, and I daresay, a good fight will make things more entertaining. As part of the performance, I expect you to show off your wings and wraith skin.”

Raith’s lip curled. Over his dead body. Or, at least, unconscious body—which was probably exactly what was going to happen.

Salizar smiled thinly like he knew it, too. “If you don’t perform willingly, as I said, I will force you. Your wings come out when I prod you in the back”—he brandished the staff—“and your appearance reverts when you’re unconscious. Easy enough to arrange.”

He began to stroll back and forth across the tent. “This is how it’ll work. When the time comes, you will shed your disguise and show the humans your true wraith form. I’ll give you a chance to do it voluntarily. If you don’t, I will take measures to make it happen.”

A growl started low in Raith’s throat, hatred boiling his blood like lava.

“It will be humiliating for you. Even more humiliating than choosing to cooperate.”

Raith’s relaxed posture became rigid. Slowly, he shifted forward until he was crouched in attack position.

Salizar’s eyes shone with equal loathing as he took a bold step closer. “Oh, I know how much you hate me. Know that I hate you in equal measure. You might think I’m the villain here, but you’re forgetting the most important thing.” He took another step. “I know what you are.”

Raith growled louder, lip curling off his teeth.

“You’re a vile creature, responsible for the worst massacre in known history. And what’s to stop you from doing it again? If Furie gets an itch, you’ll be doing her bidding in a heartbeat.”

The growl died in Raith’s throat. Salizar really believed he was one of these wraiths. If they truly were responsible for a genocide, no wonder Harrow hated them. He hoped he wasn’t one.

“And now, for the first time, a wraith has been captured. Trapped in his physical body. Vulnerable to attack. But eliminating you isn’t my place. I’m simply the deliveryman.”

Salizar stepped back abruptly, staff at ease by his side. “Can you blame me for capitalizing off it in the meantime? If I’m going to expend such effort keeping you, I might as well make some money doing it. Money that will go toward providing for other Elementals who have lost their homes and the respect of humans because of Furie’s fucking war.”

He rapped the staff against the steel bars, and sparks shot out from the tip. “Fight me all you want, because I enjoy watching you suffer. I enjoy witnessing your pain, while still knowing it will never equal the pain your kind inflicted upon the Seers before you killed them all.”

He added in a low voice, “All but one.”

Raith barely understood what Salizar was accusing him of, but it seemed Salizar thought he did. There was no point explaining it or reasoning with him, and besides, with no memory of his past, Raith couldn’t guarantee he hadn’t done those things. The part about being trapped in a physical body seemed to fit, at least; he remembered the odd sense of confinement he’d felt upon first awakening in the desert.

Perhaps Salizar was right. If he truly was the monster described, he was better off in a cage.

Salizar circled the outside of the bars until he was within striking distance. Consumed by thoughts of guilt he wasn’t sure were his to shoulder, Raith didn’t move. What was wrong with him that he didn’t care to defend himself from the attack he knew was coming?

“This is for Harrow.”

What did Harrow have to do with it? He was too caught up in his confusion to move when Salizar stabbed the staff into the cage.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

The sharp tip stabbed him in the chest, and lightning struck.

…

Harrow was more distracted than she’d ever been. And to make matters worse, her fortune-telling booth was busier than she’d ever seen it. Hours before the gates opened for evening performances, there were customers lingering outside—mostly women. Every one of them had come to consult the psychic. The very distracted, overtired psychic.

All week, Harrow had been consumed by thoughts of Raith.

She thought about his bronze skin and silky hair, how he cocked his head when he didn’t understand her, and how she’d discovered he had a sweet tooth and loved any sugary snack she brought him.

She thought about the times she’d made him smile. She thought about the fewer times she’d heard him speak. She recalled the intensity of his stare, and her stomach would flutter and her heart would race, and it would take all her control not to rush and see him right then.

Every night, she visited Raith instead of sleeping, and it was starting to catch up with her. She would zone out mid-conversation with others, and people had started asking her if she was feeling unwell.

She looked forward to those visits too much to care. She planned them all day, hoarding extra food she thought he might like and finding stories to read him and even planning what she would wear, for the Goddess’s sake. She worried constantly about him sitting alone in his cage, at the mercy of whoever found him there.

She was…obsessed.

And right now, readings were the last thing she wanted to do. But she did them anyway, as was her duty as a Seer. And her customers were so eager and receptive to her guidance that she began to get suspicious.

As her sixth client in a row ducked into the tent, wringing her hands nervously and staring eagerly at Harrow, she began to piece it together. The woman’s pale skin and elegant costume were remarkably similar to another customer she had served on one of her first days in Allegra.

The newcomer perched on the edge of the chair. “How much for a reading?”

“Ten pieces.”

The woman didn’t even blink before she dropped the coins on the table.

After stashing the money, Harrow held out her hands, indicating the woman place her own in them. She turned them over, studying the lines on her palms. A Seer saw those lines like rivers from a bird’s-eye view, snaking their way through the land to merge with the great ocean. “What’s your name?”

“Brianna, ma’am.”

Ma’am? A wealthy human did not offer titles of respect to an Elemental. “Why did you consult me today, Brianna?”

“Well, someone told me how you helped them, and I was hoping you might do the same for me.”

“Someone?”

“My friend Rosemary. You told her she was going to have a son. She’s so happy. She’s talked of nothing else since.”

Harrow sighed. Attracting attention was not smart. Humans that told fortunes mostly dabbled in the art, stumbling upon the occasional grain of true intuition. People visited them for the fun of it, perhaps hoping to receive some outside assurance their life wasn’t as meaningless as it felt. They didn’t line up outside the gate before opening hours, happy to pay anything, receptive to any advice they were given.

No—they did that only for Seers. Or had done that.

Harrow hadn’t been able to withhold vital information about her pregnancy from poor Rosemary. But now, here was Brianna and every other woman from the city, lined up and desperate for Harrow’s knowledge. Would they suspect what she really was?

Would they care?

These women were likely wives of wealthy, entitled businessmen—not the easiest of roles to fill. Such men expected their wives to be like delicate shadows, flitting around behind them, cleaning up their messes, offering their bodies at their husbands’ convenience. If Harrow could inject a little hope into their empty lives, maybe it wouldn’t matter to them who she was.

Deciding to trust Brianna, she shuffled the cards and laid out a reading. She told Brianna that her husband was unfaithful, but her youngest daughter would make a full recovery from the illness she currently suffered from, and if Brianna chose to leave her husband, she would face several years of struggle before finally finding a new life for herself and her children.

When Brianna left, an extra five pieces left on top of the ten she already paid, another customer came, and Harrow did a reading for her, too. And then another, and another.

But all the while, she never stopped thinking about Raith.

Finally, the main event in the big top commenced, and Harrow closed up shop for the night, eager to make it there in time to catch Malaikah’s performance, the finale of the show. But first, there was something she needed to do.

Picking up her Seer cards, she shuffled the deck and pictured the otherworldly eyes of the man who was becoming a permanent fixture in her thoughts. Aloud, she whispered the name he’d chosen. And then she laid out a reading, though he wasn’t there to see it.

Ice. Wetland. Waterfall. River. Ocean. And…

The Deep.

As she turned over the last card, images of that strange dream from the other night flashed before her eyes. Diving straight down, feeling the darkness surrounding her, certain she had chosen wrong…

She couldn’t deny the connection. But what did it mean?

She stared at his cards, trying to make sense of them. Ice. She closed her eyes and felt cold. Empty, isolated. Helpless. And pain. So much pain.

The next card… Wetland. That was a tricky one. Wetlands could be rich places of fertile soil, or they could be lifeless bogs. In this case, she sensed the latter. An image of a battlefield came to mind—after the fighting had concluded and bodies lay strewn about. Carnage and chaos.

Then, Waterfall. Waterfalls were the opposite of wetlands, full of energy and power, a sign of unpredictable and uncontrollable change.

Ocean was the most powerful card in the deck. Vast. Unfathomable. The source of all life. Often, but not always, benevolent.

And lastly…the Deep. The silent depths, where no light could penetrate, where stillness was absolute. Dark, silent.

And terrifying.

Why was it terrifying? The Deep had never scared her before, but it wasn’t a card she drew often. After that dream, however, she felt differently.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t do for Raith what she had done for the women who visited her today. There was no simple declaration of fate, no “do this and don’t do that.” For Raith, everything was hazy.

Was it because he wasn’t participating in the reading? Or was it because of Harrow’s involvement? Seers could never clearly read their own futures or those of the ones closest to them. That was the more likely scenario.

For better or worse, Raith’s fate was closely linked with her own.

More questions bubbled up until she thought her head might explode, and she couldn’t stand it anymore. Stacking the cards, she left her tent in a hurry. She didn’t stop rushing until she reached the big top, slipping through the backstage entrance.

Inside, the show was going full swing—quite literally, as Malaikah was currently swinging back and forth on a trapeze high above, preparing to make the precarious leap to the next one.

She sprang, her lithe body arcing with perfect poise as she sailed through the air to catch the next swing. But, oh! She feinted a fall, only to catch herself with one hand and swing with incredible strength around the trapeze, holding on with only one palm.

At the top, she steadied and balanced in a perfect one-armed handstand, spreading her legs into splits. Her panther’s tail whipped back and forth around her, aiding her balance. The crowd roared with applause.

Harrow shook her head in amazement. Malaikah never ceased to impress.

Salizar entered the ring below, wielding his pointed staff, demanding applause for the Amazing Malaikah, “exotic beauty of the Southern lands,” in a booming voice.

Harrow cringed. Both she and Malaikah hated that damn line, though Mal had begrudgingly learned to cope with it over the years, unable to deny its effectiveness in encouraging the humans to give up their money. It had always been a point of contention between her and Salizar, however.

While the extra volley of coin now raining down from the bleachers was unmistakable, to Harrow, calling Mal that was degrading to the brilliant woman who had reached a level of mastery few ever achieved, and that wasn’t worth any amount of gold.

Sure, Hybrids would always hold a level of fascination to humans, but it was born out of ignorance. Malaikah certainly looked different compared to everyone else in the audience, with her panther ears and tail and claws, but she deserved to be celebrated for her accomplishments and not for her appearance.

This was an old debate, but something made her think of it anew today. It didn’t take long to discover why—Raith. Salizar was planning to do the same thing to Raith, but worse. Keeping him in a cage like an animal, making him out to be a terrible monster when he wasn’t. It was sickening. Especially because it was Salizar committing these atrocities, a man she had always believed to be inherently noble, despite his ruthless reputation.

How could she have been so wrong about him?

Suddenly, she couldn’t stand there another second. Couldn’t watch the crowd cheering for the “exotic beauty” who landed perfectly on her feet, executing a graceful bow before them. Couldn’t stare at the back of Salizar’s head, at the top hat he wore to disguise pointed ears that made him just as exotic as the rest of the creatures in his circus. Couldn’t stand there thinking about how she was just as bad as him for hiding her own ears beneath a scarf every day and pretending she was human.

Without another word, she left the big top and went straight to the only place she wanted to be. She assured herself that Salizar would be busy with the show for another half hour or so.

There was no way he’d catch her.