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A burst of applause cuts through the hall as his mother finishes the piece.

“I didn’t sneak out.”

“You left before I woke up.” His gaze drags slowly over me. “That usually means something.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Liar.”

Heat rushes into my face.

Ciaran smirks, clearly enjoying himself, but then movement across the hall catches my attention.

The dark-haired man is still watching me. Only this time, when our eyes meet, he doesn’t look away.

Something cold twists in my stomach.

I know him.

“Rowan.”

I blink and look back at Ciaran too fast.

His expression shifts. “There you are.”

A woman in diamonds touches his arm lightly as she passes. “Your father’s looking for you.”

“He can wait.”

“Ciaran. Now, please.”

He looks visibly annoyed before finally stepping back. “Don’t disappear again,” he murmurs.

Then he’s gone.

I look back toward the entrance.

The man is still there, watching me.

And somehow, horribly, I know he recognizes me too.

19

ROWAN

Dreams are dangerous things. You don’t make them. They make you.

Ma used to say that whenever she caught me staring too long out the apartment window back in Düren, lost somewhere inside my own head.

The memory slips through me unexpectedly now as I stand beneath the rooftop terrace archway watching rain blur the glowing shape of Sero below.

Thunder rolls softly somewhere beyond the city while gold lights shimmer through the storm like fractured stars.

Will she still say that after tonight?

A faint smile tugs at my mouth. Damaris recorded the performance. He’ll probably send it home before the night’s even over.

For a moment, I picture Ma watching it on her old multi-slate in our tiny apartment.