“There she is,” Victor said. “Is it worth the risk, after what happened today?”
“It’s not your turn.” Selene arched an eyebrow.
Victor’s sheepish grin was reminiscent of any time he’d been caught, hand in the cookie jar. Selene was transported back, back, back to another time when she was another girl—just for a moment. Victor didn’t notice. He tossed something no bigger than her thumbnail up into the air. He tossed it again, this time almost losing it to a sea breeze, and held it to his body, cupping his hand toward the starlight to make sure it was still there.
“Whatisthat?”
“Terrible use of your question.” Victor lifted his palm up to the light so she could see. “It’s a nautilus shell. Unusual for these parts.”
Something about it tugged at Selene. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Listen.” Victor held it up to her ear.
Selene could hear the song of the sea echoing within. The melody was simple and sweet and familiar. She’d done this with her father, shell after shell, identifying the pitches with him. He’d used it to teach her about resonance. The shell had no song of its own; it captured the shallow sounds outside of it and amplified them.
A song that sang itself.
Selene shivered.
Would this be enough for the mirror?
“May I have it?”
Victor brushed his calloused fingers down the length of her forearm, cupping her hand. He placed the seashell in the center of her palm.
“It’s not your turn to ask questions, Selene.” His voice was low and playful. She dared to look into his eyes. He watched her like she was the sea. A wonder and a force of nature and something deadly to behold. She thought he might kiss her. She was very sure he would.
A wave splashed up. Victor wrapped his hand around hers, protecting the tiny shell and shielding her against the water. She was speckled with it, but he was soaked. His laugh sounded like bell tolls. He released her and took a step back, deeper into the water.
“What do you think my father will say?”
“Nothing,” Selene said. “But he’ll make you—”
She swallowed her words. She didn’t want to say it, even though it had been true their entire childhood. She couldn’t say it. There was so much unspoken between them about the way the king had treated Victor. She hoped it wasn’t true anymore.
“He’ll make me pay for it later,” Victor finished. The lightness of his voice did not meet the void of his eyes.
“Does he still?”
The great clock in the great hall struck. The sound of it was amplified, and it nearly startled the shell out of Selene’s hands. She looked to him, eyes wide. This was it. This was the moment she’d find out if she was enough. If all her dreams would coalesce.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Victor reached for her hand. “We can be fish again, back in the sea. You can live a different life.”
She pulled her hand away. “I’ve worked too hard for this, Victor.”
“There’s a whole world outside your opera house, beyond this city.”
She wondered then, about the wideness of the world and the magic within. Did they have opera houses filled with ruthless and hopeful magicians who’d do almost anything to win? She didn’t think so, but couldn’t say for sure. Any simulacrum of L’Opéra du Magician in other places could be no more than a shadow. But she hadn’t paid enough attention to anything besides her music and magic to have even a sense of that. “I don’t want the world. I want to win.”
He put his hands in his pockets. “You’d better run, then.”
The bell of the clock tolled, counting down the moments before the competitors were unmasked. Selene picked up her skirts and sprinted, Victor close behind her, carrying her shoes. The crowd gathered in the ballroom, spilling out the expansive doors. All manner of masks and extravagant colors marred the usually sparse ballroom. Selene slipped through a secret entrance and followed the passageway. It would deposit her at the edge of the dais—right where she needed to be.
Victor caught her hand, just before she entered the room. His skin was wet and sandy but warm.
“Keep your eyes open,” he whispered. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
Promises, promises. She didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant. She was swept up into the line of her competitors. They made a half-moon at the back of the dais. Gigi was on the other end of the stage, the beginning of the line. Selene was the end. She cast a glance at Selene’s bare feet, one eyebrow lifting above the mask. Selene flashed her a smile, glad to focus on that rather than the raucous beat of her heart.
