Priya curled her lip. “What do you think it would take to get your mother here, Gigi? Shall you cry, or do you think she’d come quicker for Selene?”
“That’s enough.” With a few steps, Selene positioned herself in front of Gigi.
“As if you could tell me what to do.” Priya bared her teeth. “Are you scared, Gigi? Scared enough to jump from the roof ?” She lunged forward with the mirror.
Gigi staggered back, forgetting the rope that coiled like a snake beside the velvet wing. Selene grabbed for her hand—but she was too late. The sound of Gigi’s body slamming into the stage echoed through the auditorium. Selene dropped down beside her.
“It’s fine.” There were tears in Gigi’s eyes. She looked past Selene to Priya.
Selene’s heart thundered con furore. She could accept Priya’s viciousness on her own behalf—had been for years. But for Gigi, she would let the world burn.
Priya’s face was marred with rapture. “What are you going to do?”
The options were endless. Selene could sing the air from Priya’s lungs. She could summon fire and spark that fine dress into flames. She could grow vines to wrap around Priya’s pretty throat and squeeze until all the light was gone.
Except.
Magic was never to be used as a weapon. Magic was art and entertainment—beautiful, impractical, and privileged. It required years of study, careful attention to technique, and could turn dangerous quickly on a technicality.
And maybe it was hubris or recklessness or the privilege of never living in fear. Selene had been raised on the wild idealism that magic and art existed in the everyday. She had not been held to the standard that magic was only meant for this higher form. Selene didn’t understand why magic couldn’t be more. Her father had taught her first how to pull water from the sea into a bucket, how to hush out a candle with a breath of wind, how to find the heart of a flower and make it grow. It wasn’t until she’d lost her father and been sent to the opera house that she’d learned a fear of magic. Rumors abounded of magicians who tried to light a candle with the power of their voice and instead set themselves ablaze. Ruined for a flame.
Selene knew of ruin. She knew what magic could be. She didn’t care about candles or clouds. Those were simple, small things. There was so much worse magic could do. Selene had tasted the sweet poison of destructive power. There was already blood on her hands.
There could be blood on her hands again.
She banished those violent delights, breathing slowly and deeply. Priya wasn’t worth it. Selene wasn’t one of the silly dilettantes seeking a hobby before they shackled themselves to a wealthy spouse. Those practitioners weren’t here to win, not really. They wanted the prestige and stories to tell at parties. This didn’t matter to them like it mattered to Selene. Priya—despite her engagement to a viscount—actually seemed to want this. At least she wanted it badly enough to destroy anyone who stood in her way. And because of that, Selene knew exactly how to hurt her.
Her smile was the sharpened edge of a blade. “I’m going to be better than you.”
Worry flickered in Priya’s eyes before it was replaced with pity.
“It’s a shame the Mad Mage didn’t finish what he started.” Priya angled the mirror to reflect Selene’s throat.
The high collar of Selene’s dress had shifted, revealing the tips of the silver scars that circled her neck. Without thinking, Selene adjusted the lace to conceal them. She regretted it immediately. Priya’s smile curled at Selene’s show of weakness.
“Did your father lose his mind before or after he tried to rip out your throat?”
It was all Selene could do not to be crushed by memories of that day. She focused on the music—power building under her skin. She’d pull the moisture from the air and freeze it into a sharp shard. Priya would bleed, all the evidence melting into the red. The placement of the music lifted the back of her throat. High road be damned.
No.
She wouldn’t throw away her chance to be the King’s Mage for Priya. She wouldn’t give everything up for vengeance.
Priya’s smile faltered, her motives clear. She’d been trying to goad Selene into action. She’d gone after Gigi first, then Selene’s father. She’d wanted Selene to react and get herself thrown out of the competition.
Selene took a deep breath, letting the heat of her fury cool to an icy rage. She brought her hands together in a slow clap.
“Brava, Priya. Though you’ll have to try harder to—”
The surface of the mirror rippled.
Selene might have convinced herself that it was a trick of the light. But there was somethingthere. A face cast in shadow, all angles and furrowed brows. Cold, blue eyes that cut straight to her soul.
The melody came to Selene before she had the chance to process what she was doing. She sang the wind into a scythe that forced Priya back against the wall. The mirror shot in the opposite direction. Away, away, away. Selene waited for that beautiful breaking sound. It would be freedom. A mercy.
But the mirror did not break.
It didn’t even fall.
