A prickle settles over my skin. I look up. In the leftmost window on the third story, the glow of gaslights reveals a silver-haired beauty with golden-brown skin. She’s glaring out from behind blue satin drapes. Grandmère Clair.
I brace myself. The trip through time had momentarily distracted me from what happened tonight. I killed a white man. “Let’s go in and get this over with.”
Shadows hang over Demetri’s face, almost darkening his skin to my shade. “Okay.”
Together, we approach the house. Before we’ve taken more than a few steps, the door swings open and Grandmère marches out.
“Gran,” I call.
“Are you all right, child?” She smooths her bob before scooping me into her arms. My body goes limp. I exhale, praying that she isn’t angry. But tonight I endangered the two things Grandmère cherishes most—her family and the circus. So I doubt I’m off the hook.
“Yes, Gran,” I reply as our hug breaks apart.
“Grandmère, you look beautiful tonight,” Demetri says.
Grandmère Clair raises a brow. “I’ve always admired your honesty, young man. You children have had an eventful night, now haven’t you?”
I glance away, fixating on the winged warrior woman statue nearby, and avoiding the disappointment in her eyes. “I granted a bad wish.”
“Oh, my perfect little bird.” Her eyes trace me from head to foot. But her gaze is more steely than reassuring. “If I blame anyone, it’s that mother of yours. Letting you get attacked by your own audience! What’s she gonna do next? Why I ever thought I could hand the reins of Le Cirque Noir over to Isabel, I don’t know.” She touches my cheek with a chilly palm. “All my years of sacrifice, planning, shielding you, to have you end up in a situation like this.” She looks at me like a wolf trying to decide if a cub should be eaten or given warmth. She sighs. “Grandmère sent for you the second I heard, dear.”
“I—” I look down at the grass, baffled. “I thought you’d be furious at me—”
“Nonsense.” Grandmère’s dainty fingers go under my chin, lifting my face. “Stars don’t hang low.”
I smile, but my eyes get misty again.
“If your mother had been present to chaperone you,” Grandmère insists, “instead of off somewhere rehearsing for her own act, this never would have happened.” She pinches my brother’s face. “Thank goodness she had you, dear boy.”
Demetri kisses her cheek.
“But Demetri, dearest, you shouldn’t have had to protect Emma. That’s a parent’s job. You were both endangered tonight. If your mother managed the circus better, we wouldn’t have these issues. You’ll never be safe in a world like ours. But your mother sorely tempts me to send her to the future so I can call child protective services on her. My poor grandbabies.”
Demetri smiles at her words, but his eyes look sad and guilty, as if he feels disloyal for reacting to the joke.
With a wave of Grandmère’s hand, the sky around us ripples and shifts. “Enough of that… Put your palms out, Emma.”
Grandmère’s kindness is unsettling. I know my recklessness should make her rage blow as hard and fast as a storm. Is she going to use her power to slap my palms or have me struck by lightning? But when I comply, putting my hands out and praying they don’t tremble, all she does is snap her fingers. A bright swirl of moonlight pulls down from heaven, morphing into a crystal Cleopatra headpiece adorned with stars and moons. It lands on my open palms.
I gasp. “It’s beautiful, Grandmère!”
She snaps her fingers again, and a white flash of moonlight spirals around me, lifting the headpiece and placing it on my head. Grandmère leans in. “I put the old one in the car for you, birdie.”
“Thanks, Gran.” I reach up to touch the delicate crystals.
“And for my handsome gentleman…” Light surges again as Grandmère conjures a diamond crescent moon–shaped tie clip onto my brother’s tie.
“Thank you, Gran.” Demetri flashes a smile in her direction.
Grandmère’s hooded gaze seems to study the shadows again, but thistime her lips twitch upward into a smile. She strides away without a word, her posture regal in her royal-blue silk gown.
“Where is she rushing off to?” I ask.
Demetri shrugs, but he won’t meet my eyes.
Grandmère approaches her bodyguards and whispers something that sends two of the guards toward the car where Mom and Papa are probably changing. The rest remain at their posts around the house.
“She’s so secretive,” I say. Demetri is still gazing off into the distance, his face unreadable. “Just like you.”
