Ringmaster

I squeeze her hand. “That doesn’t bother me.” I came to the circus to get away from everyone and everything. I cut myself off from the world, and that’s the way I like it. If people don’t like that, they can go to hell.

“It bothers me. For your sake. People should know how lovely you are.”

I give her a crooked smile, and my heart flops in my chest like a landed fish. Lovely? I don’t think anyone’s ever called me lovely. I look down into the beautiful oval of her face, her darkened lashes outlining her glittering blue eyes. The plush pillow of her lower lip. Just one little tug, and she’d be in my arms.

Which is exactly what I told myself I shouldn’t do.

I hear a distant shout; one of the stagehands yelling at us that it’s time to start the show. We both come to our senses at the same time and run for the big top, still hand in hand, hurrying around the striped canvas to the performer’s entrance at the back. Ryah’s fingers slip from mine just as we pass through the tent flap, and she goes one way to her place and I go the other.

I carry the warmth of her hand in mine all night.

A few days later, it’s time to debut our act. We have a dress rehearsal that morning in the empty big top, and it all goes smoothly. Ryah steps away from the board when I’ve finished collecting my knives and does a little dance.

“I’m so excited!” she says, her ponytail swinging. “I still can’t believe I convinced you to do this.”

“Neither can I,” I say dryly, pushing my knives back into their holsters. I watch her covertly as she threads her fingers through her ponytail, gazing around at the empty seats. She looks incredible in the tight Lycra.

“I can’t wait to find out what everyone thinks of the act.” She casts me one last, dazzling smile, and then hurries out of the tent and back to her wagon.

I feel a buzz of excitement under my skin all day. It’s the way I felt when I first joined the circus and started performing all those years ago, and despite a few lingering misgivings about whether I’m putting Ryah in unnecessary danger, I find I’m looking forward to the show as much as my fearless partner is.

We’re set to go on right before the interval. When it’s time, I take a deep breath and step out into the arena. A spotlight catches and follows me as I walk to the center.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is a special night.” I pause dramatically, gazing around at the audience. I take my jacket off and throw it aside and roll my shirtsleeves back past my elbows. “We have a brand-new act for you tonight.”

I sense everyone sit up a little. I start taking my knives out of their holsters, and I hold up two in each hand. I sharpened them this afternoon and the edges glint in the bright lights. “Brand new, and very dangerous.”

I turn slowly, gazing at the seats. Ryah was right. The audience is enraptured. Their eyes are wide and their mouths open.

“I’m going to need absolute silence from you all. Distractions of any kind could put lives in danger.”

Just one life, actually. One very precious life. I stare hard into the audience, because while a lot of what I say is for the drama, I mean it about the distractions. Once I get started, I only want to focus on Ryah.

“I’ll need one important thing before we begin. My partner.”

Chapter Thirteen

Ryah

There’s a blaze of music and lights, and I’m carried out into the arena sitting mermaid style. I’m atop a heavy board, supported on the shoulders of four of the strongest stagehands. They set me on the ground, and Cale reaches down a hand to help me to my feet.

I look up at him, and I’m reminded of the day we first met, when he reached down to me from Jareth. Our eyes meet, and I know he’s remembering too. His dark eyes warm. Then his attention is back on the audience as he introduces me, and I stretch out an arm in a flourish and smile like my heart isn’t trying to batter its way out of my chest.

Behind me, the stagehands are arranging our set. Cale leads me over to the board and I arrange myself in my first pose, a Y-shape with my arms above my head. He turns to the audience, motioning them to be silent. Then he looks at me. The spotlights reflect off his broad shoulders and slicked back hair. I breathe out slowly, imagining this is just another practice. We’re alone. I’m with Cale, and so everything’s perfect.

Knives thud into the wood by my arms and legs, as close as a whisper. He still only throws five knives. The sixth always gets put back.

The audience erupts into applause. So far so good.

My second pose is my hands on my hips and my feet apart. Cale’s knives land, one above my head, in the circles created by my bent arms, and two between my legs. Again, huge applause.

Finally, the moving pose. This is the most challenging of all and I have to watch him as carefully as he watches me. I turn to one side and slip my feet into the concealed rings at the bottom of the board. With my arms at my side, I watch Cale lift his arm, a knife held in his hand. As he starts to throw, I let my body fall forward, much further forward than a person usually can without toppling over, thanks to my feet being strapped to the ground. This is the pose that has my nerves screaming in alarm, though I’m careful not to let my face show it.

Five knives follow the path of my falling body in rapid succession. Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk. I can feel the vibration of every single one.

Cale comes forward and takes the knives out of the board and puts out a hand to help me right myself. We step forward and take our bows. It’s as if someone has flipped a swi

tch. The audience’s applause and whistles cascade over me in a torrent. I can barely think it’s so loud, but I’m beaming, and so is Cale.