1
The Dire Woods flashed by Daron’s window like a nightmare he knew well. Blurs of black trees and branches jagged as thorns, bumps riddled along their path as though they were driving over scattered bones.
Only the dead could feel alive in woods like these.
Daron recalled his first trip to Glorian, how he’d tried not to pay much attention to any of it. Aunt Cata had always warned him and Eva of the woods no one dared enter, and that first carriage ride alone had only been a taste. Even in the safe confines of a coach with a map in hand, the shadow weight outside seeped through the walls. There was a reason no one was ever foolish enough to enter the Dire Woods without a sense of where they were going. Getting lost led to something slow, something suffering.
That fear was long gone after what had to be his hundredth journey through the woods.
Even with the occasional chill, he’d become numbed to the sight of trees flashing by like shadows reaching out to him. Their touch had dulled, the woods no more than a horror story. An incomplete and immensely infuriating one.
Hellfire House was nowhere to be found, almost as if it didn’t want to be.
As if it never existed in the first place.
No matter how many times Daron shook the thought away, a slight thrum of panic remained.
No.
He couldn’t entertain the idea.
It was all they had, a hope dangling on a hook already crumbling to pieces.
Daron stared hard at the words glaring at him across the seat, a bolded headline bracketed between the reader’s polished sharp nails holding the paper out before her.
SPECTACULAR SCANDAL: A DOOMED DUO, DEMARCO DISGRACED
No one can say for certain what truly happened in Glorian during the last night of Spectaculore. Conflicting stories have cropped up from all over Soltair, ranging from one outrageous tale to the next. The facts are few, and only questions remain:
How does a star disappear into thin air?
And what does a showman’s fall from grace—
“Do you really have to read that?” Daron turned back toward the window, his throat tight. “Right now?”
The issue lowered, and Lottie’s serpentine eyes peeked over the top. “What? I’m reading quietly.”
The headline taunted him. “You couldn’t have picked a book?”
“This isn’t some short pleasant jaunt through the park,” she snapped, shaking out her paper to smooth out the crinkles. “As much as it pains me to read the New Crown Post, it’s better to know what stories the world is believing.”
Judging by the stack of issues crammed inside Lottie’s emerald briefcase, there was far more coverage on him than during his performing days on stage.
“How do they even know?” Daron dragged a hand down his face. “I thought you and Erasmus arranged a deal. You’ve been the only eyes on the ground.”
Lottie snorted. “I swear, for someone who was once in the thick of show business, you really overestimate the morality of others. I might be the only pen here now, but people talk. Letters find their way to the right and wrong hands. Your case is probably close to bursting, so it won’t be long before a flood swarms in to cover this story.”
Zarose. Daron hadn’t opened his courier case in a while. Not since the constant telltale clicks of new letters started up again, until he finally shoved the damn thing under his bed. Just like when he’d first stopped performing, the world wanted answers. So the stream of letters kept coming.
He had no time to wade through them. His scouting trips through the Dire Woods kept him busy enough.
Every day, he searched through the dark for a glimmer of something. For the flash of a rooftop or hint of a building between the trees. He stared as though he could will them into being, though hours brought him nothing.
Finding her, however, was never hard. All he had to do was close his eyes.
And there she stood in that dark, just as he last remembered.
You’ll be here …
The whisper pulled at him. Her voice from memory, or perhaps from the woods.
… at the end of this, right?
Daron squeezed the bridge of his nose, his stomach churning. He had to get out. Stretch his legs a bit. Breathe. Hours in the carriage sometimes passed in a blink, or dragged on like a slow death. But that was how he spent his days. Every day.
Most times he’d go alone on horseback, but today was a coach day when Lottie offered her company. Thankfully, she secured a ride for them easily. Like much of Glorian, even the coachmen scowled at Daron whenever he approached. But in the end, they took their payment with gruff silence. Coin was coin no matter who gave it.
Not that it mattered much. Daron was used to cold shoulders. Far better to be alone than in the company of those who despised him. Or just barely tolerated him.
“I’ll drop you back off.” He cleared his throat, knocking a fist against the roof. “I don’t know why you even came with me this time.”
They rarely talked. Merely occupying the same room would lead to an argument one way or another, so he was surprised the carriage hadn’t caught fire yet.
“A long drive is good for the mind every now and then.” Lottie gave a half-hearted shrug, watching him knock at the ceiling. “And I was curious.”
His fist paused.
Curious. Coming from her, it was an omen.
“About what, exactly?” Irritation reeled through him as the driver kept on. No sign of slowing, or turning around.
Firmly situated, Lottie tossed her folded newspaper aside and crossed her arms. “You’re not going to find her out here, you know.”
The wind rustling the trees outside stopped.
You’ll be here …
Daron’s heart strained.
That whisper wouldn’t leave. Every day, it grew louder.
“I’ll drop you off,” he repeated tersely.
“The driver’s on my coin today, so I’m in charge of where we go.” Sighing, Lottie straightened her newspapers into an orderly pile. “Come on, Daron. You need to stop this. You’ve combed through these woods for—”
“Sorry if it’s not more exciting work. You’re more than welcome to stay back with the others.” Daron held back a scoff. It came as no surprise how easily they’d fractured almost as soon as they’d banded together. The first to drop from the group was Canary, who had no patience for hours-long rides through the woods, or for Daron. The fire-eater had never much liked him when they’d begun working together, whereas Aaros at least somewhat endured him. Though judging from the assistant’s eventual absence to carry on his own lead in the city, perhaps Daron was wrong about that, too.
“If you haven’t found anything remotely promising by now, you must move on,” Lottie pressed. “You’re just going in circles.”
“Have you forgotten that these woods aren’t normal? They’re known to lie and play tricks.” His nostrils flared. “You’re the one who brought up that bloody club in the first place.”
“And I know when to step back once a trail goes cold,” she countered. “It was an interesting lead, but it’s led nowhere.”
Daron desperately wanted to escape this coach, even if it meant exploring the Dire Woods on foot. “That could change any day. It’s fine if you don’t agree.”
Lottie clenched her fists. A feat, considering the length of her nails. “I could shake you, I swear,” she huffed. “When will you realize you don’t have to do this alone, and that I’m on your side? For Zarose sake, we’re all on your side.”
Daron gestured indifferently at the empty space around them. “Quite a team we have on our side,” he said, leaning back. “Why are you even here?”
His voice was all ice, the only thing holding him together. And no one brought it out in him more than Lottie.
He still hadn’t forgotten. After what she’d done, all those years ago, his body remained primed for attack just in case, waiting for the Poison of the Press to spin her web of stories. Miraculously, she’d stayed her pen against him for this long, but that wouldn’t last. For people like her, it would be a shame for a good story to go to waste.
“Despite what you think, I do have a heart,” Lottie said pointedly. “And I know what yours is going through. Again.”
Daron averted his gaze, bracing himself against his seat.
Why did she have to do this now?
“I went through it, too. I understand how lonely not knowing feels,” she continued. “But you don’t have to be alone for it this time. Eva wouldn’t have—”
“Don’t.” His pulse stilled as the ice returned, the shadows swarmed.
Her name, said aloud, snapped something inside him every time.
“We have to talk about her sometime.”
Even with every bump and jerk of the carriage, they were frozen. Lottie, damn near a statue on her side. He couldn’t bear to even look at her now, not when Eva entered the carriage. She remained between them in every room, every conversation. A whisper, a ghost. Lottie had made her one to the world years ago when her story had gone to press, despite claiming they’d once been friends. A friend would not play up another friend’s disappearance to captivate her readers. Even if it was to throw the world off to carry on searching in secrecy, she still got her money’s worth. Eva was gone, and a glamorous stage tragedy filled her shoes instead.
“Is that why you’re still here?” Daron asked stiffly. “To finally corner me? Get some new angle?”
Lottie’s eyes slitted to dark slashes. “Is this your new front?” Her voice turned so cold that the ice in him faltered. “Can’t confront what’s wrong now, so you keep digging up the past?”
“It’s no front. I just don’t trust you.”
He must’ve been out of his mind to think this time would be any different. From the moment she’d stepped into Glorian and spotted him, she’d been hungry for blood. No one changed appetites that quickly.
There was so much in her heavy glare, the harsh twist of her mouth before diffusing under a humorless laugh. “You just love making me the bad guy, don’t you? It’s so easy,” she drawled. “When you’re no better. And I’m done hiding it.”
Daron frowned. “What did you just say?”
The passing shadows of the trees outside flickered over her face, but her eyes remained lit. Livid. “I’ve tried patience with you, especially now. But if you’re determined to just sit in coaches thinking that’s the best course of action, then here’s some entertainment for the ride,” Lottie said, nostrils flaring. “I’ve covered your ass from social ruin long enough, Demarco. Had my suspicions even longer. And not once did I air them out, because Eva didn’t.” The corner of her lip turned slightly in disgust. “Clearly in protection of you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Eva’s name was no longer gentle or hesitant between them. Lottie wielded it more like a sword, a lit match held over a trail of oil. Daron could hardly summon any anger. Only confusion. “All of my secrets have been aired out.”
It was front-page news all across Soltair. However outlandish the stories, they got one thing right: Daron was a fraud. No power to his name—not true magic, at least. Once, it had flowed through him. He was a born magician, after all. Same as Eva.
But what was a magician without powers? If such powers only came and went whenever they pleased? After Eva had vanished, so much else had fallen away from him. His love for magic, the stage, his grasp on his own power. Grief had hollowed him out so thoroughly, it only made sense that his magic followed suit.
Until he came to Glorian.
“You truly believe that’s all there is?” Lottie tsked. “I thought you were just playing dumb and powerless.”
Powerless.
His heart lurched as Kallia’s face flashed before him. The pain gripping her body, her features, as she fell to the floor drenched in mirror shards.
While he rose to his feet, power flaring in his palm.
He’d replayed those last moments a million times in his head. Again and again, the melody wouldn’t leave. Not until he knew every note of the music.
And the part he played in making it.
“I … I thought it had to be Glorian.”
Eva had always brought it up. Something wasn’t right about the city lost in the cursed woods, or any of its alleged mysteries. It was the only reason he’d come in the first place, with no other lead to Eva’s whereabouts in sight.
“You thought.” She raised a dubious brow. “Well, have you ever thought there could be more to it?”
Daron touched his temple, begging his thoughts to quiet. Every time he saw Kallia’s face in the back of his mind, the knife dug deeper as he remembered her last words. Her last look.
It had always been staring him in the face, since he arrived in Glorian.
Since he’d met—
Lottie’s bitter laugh sounded across from him. “If I’m right, then this began long before you came to this city. No surprise you’re only noticing now. Too much spotlight will do that,” she muttered with a shrug. “Do you really think as the Daring Demarco, you were running the show that whole time?”
“Of course not,” he bit out. “Eva and I always worked—”
“Together? Is that why you’re here and she’s not?”
Cold blood thundered in his ears. It ripped away the numbness like a curtain drawn back, revealing more. All that he’d missed and ignored so often.
There was him, every time he took final bows at his past shows, grabbing Eva’s hand so she could join him. And her fingers trembled. Always trembled in his hold.
Then the shadows under Kallia’s eyes—he’d seen shadows like that before. Exhaustion plagued them after every performance.
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