The past King’s Mages shared the dais with them, sitting in a row behind the thrones. Offra looked worn thin. She was pale and pinched, not at all the bright, bronzed girl who had taken the title seven years before. There were gaps between the mages, leaving space for those who were now gone. For her father. And for Maris, who had gone mad a year into her tenure. Her departure was the reason why Giuseppe had been called back. It was a sort of déjà vu seeing these mages again now, each of them adorned with enough jewels to make a king’s ransom.
Selene had thought of this moment a thousand times. Thought of seeing these faces, being with the people who shared the same title as her father. Looking at them now, it was no wonder that they hadn’t been the ones called back. It was as if all the color had been drained from them, the light gone from their eyes. Her father hadn’t been like that. He had still been bright and effervescent, until the end.
The king stood. The queen and Henri did, too. Victor had managed his way around the back of the dais and was dripping on the velvet cushion, looking endlessly pleased with himself. The king flashed him a dark look, a muscle working in his jaw. He put out his hands and the crowd hushed.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice slick, “is the beginning. Tonight, we unmask the magicians who will have their chance to win L’Opéra du Magician and bemymage.”
A chill ran up Selene’s spine at the way he saidmy mage.
“Only the greatest magicians can serve this court,” he said, glancing to the pointed edges of the half-moon. Selene and Gigi. Selene cast a glance to Madame Giroux, standing just out of the light next to the dais. Her hands were tight on her cane. “Which of you will serve me? Step forth, and we shall find out!”
One by one, her competitors moved in a line. Ramin’s hands trembled. Priya looked smug, despite her lackluster audition. Revelio’s eyes were downcast, refusing to make contact with Selene. There were only ten of them now, down from thirteen. How many more would be cut tonight? The number varied from year to year, with only the best going on to perform for L’Opéra du Magician. Selene reminded herself to breathe.
Let it be me. She wished her father could hear her.
There was a great flash of light.
Selene wanted to shut her eyes and block it out, but she remembered what Victor had said, only moments before. She kept her eyes open. Her mask burst with a blinding flash of luminescent color. The orchestra swelled, timed with the symphony. The stage magicians sang the light and bent it to new spectrums, turning it into a kaleidoscope of color on her skin. The crowd roared, drowning out the sound of the music.
Selene reached up, just to be certain. Her mask was gone, leaving her face bare. Those still masked were ushered off. Revelio looked at Priya with shock and seething rage, just before he was ripped from the dais.
The king put up his hands again. They looked older than they should, with papery skin and age spots. The room went silent.
From the corner of the stage, Selene could see Madame Giroux. She expected to see pride or joy or pleasant surprise. But Madame’s eyes were wide, mouth gaping. She looked like she was trapped in a nightmare, like this was the worst thing that could have happened.
But only for a moment, a slip of the mask. And then she had a vague smile on her lips. Her hands gripped her cane tight enough to snap it.
And then there was Victor. His dark eyes were lanterns, lighthouses. He looked at her like she was just out of his reach and he’d stop at nothing to reach her.
“Introducing the talent for L’Opéra du Magician: Gigi Giroux, Priya Ankari, Cameron Garnier, Ramin Mondego, and Selene Dreshé.”
Selene closed her eyes and listened to the music of the applause.
Chapter 23
Selene had been the last one to the carriage, guests still reaching for her, trying for another dance, another drink, another entreaty. Selene barely registered the sights, the sounds, the rush of bodies. She hadn’t found Victor again after she’d been named. Everything was a blur until she was settled inside. The colorless silence let her thoughts regain purchase.
Grief and exhaustion had pulled Gigi into sleep, her head resting on Selene’s shoulder. Adrenaline coursed through Selene; she could barely sit still. It was only the three of them: Selene, Gigi, and Madame Giroux. Madame did not look at her. The night rolled by, the weight of their earlier conversation hanging between them, made heavier by the secrets. Selene cleared her throat.
“I saw you.” Selene looked at Madame. “I saw your face, right before the names were called.”
“There is more to life than titles and jewels, Selene.”
“Why can’t you just be happy for us?”
“Know when you’re being used.” Madame’s eyes flicked to Gigi. “Do you think this is all there is? Songs and sorcery? There’s a whole world out there.”
“I don’t want the world.”
Madame Giroux sighed. She kept her eyes on the road. “When Monsieur Avile and his patron declared the auditions complete, they asked about each of my students. When they asked about you, Selene, I told them no.”
Selene’s skin went cold. This betrayal should have been more of a surprise, but the certainty of it settled on Selene. Madame had known about Revelio and had said nothing. Madame had witnessed sabotage after sabotage and done nothing. She’d treated Gigi like an afterthought for the last seven years, dismissing her daughter’s talent and dreams. She was not the hero Selene had thought, not the brutal and honest teacher and mother figure Selene had kept so high on a pedestal. She was just a petty woman in a position of power.
“The king insisted you be allowed to compete, like he insisted you be brought here to train.”
“Not Victor?”
“You think Victor has that kind of power?”
