Killian reached the heavy doors at the main entrance and heaved them open with all the rune-enhanced strength in his limbs. The wind poured through the sudden opening with force, sending the palace staff scurrying as papers flew everywhere.
The guards outside—Tingara’s elite—brought their pole-arms crashing down, and Killian went through them as if they weren’t there, the sharp steel barely registering on his forearms.
The guards shouted, uncertain what to do. Was the emperor under attack? They scanned all directions in alarm, but they couldn’t perceive any threat.
Killian ran for the iron fence and gripped the bars with white knuckles. He stared into the face he hadn’t seen in an eternity as the blood throbbed in his veins. His breath came short, and without realizing, the iron bent and twisted in his hands as he examined every aspect of her visage.
“It’s you,” Killian breathed.
Remembrance thrust his consciousness back in time, to a time when he’d been happy, truly happy, for the first time in his life.
The show was over, and tomorrow there would be another, so the circus tent was left standing, the seating gallery erected, the trapeze swinging high, the animals fed, their cages scrubbed. And as usual, Marney was already worrying about tomorrow night’s routine, rehearsing in his head every last detail of the performance they’d given a thousand times.
It was the perfect opportunity for Killian and Carla to get away.
He held her hand as they ran through fields of summer flowers while stars sparkled overhead. The encampment was just outside Seranthia, a ten-minute walk from the wide road that led from Seranthia to Salvation. Marney had chosen the place well; though the long grass was dry, there was fresh water for the animals nearby as well as thickets of trees for fires and hunting.
Killian wanted to see one of the night shows he’d heard Jak the mime talk about. He raced across the fields, his lover’s hand held firmly in his own, bounding over the uneven ground, feeling his limbs burn with the fire of youth.
Carla laughed beside him and pulled him up. “Slow down! We’ll trip up in a rabbit hole.”
The bright night was lit up by scattered stars and a full moon. Killian glanced at Carla, seeing her raven-black hair glow, her teeth shining white against her skin, and he grinned. “Can’t you smell the rabbits out?”
“Nothing to smell. They’ll run when they see the light cast by the human torch.”
Killian laughed. He and Carla teased each other endlessly about their most striking feature: her long nose and his wild red hair.
“Come on,” Killian said. “Hurry up! We’ll miss the shows.”
“I’m hurrying!”
“You run like a girl.” Killian grinned.
“You’d rather I ran like a man?” Carla followed the comment with a fist-pumping, grimacing run, like an athlete at the Imperial Games.
“I prefer it when you walk,” Killian said. “Particularly if I’m standing behind you, where the view is best. Actually, when I’m holding you on the trapeze . . .”
Carla pulled him up short and yanked her arm from his, placing both hands on her hips. “That’s enough from you. I’ll face you when I walk.”
She came at him with solid, lumbering steps, like an animal tamer intimidating his beast—she was an excellent mimic—and held a finger up at Killian’s chin. He realized the finger was a distraction only when she hooked a leg behind his and pushed forward so that they both fell down.
Carla was now on top of Killian’s chest, looking down at him, their faces close together.
“And this is how I like you,” she said.
Carla leaned down and brushed her lips across his, sending fire through his chest and deep into his stomach. Her long hair tickled his face as it brushed across his skin.
“The night’s warm,” Carla breathed as she leaned in to kiss him. Killian felt her hands on his belt. “Seranthia can wait.”
The night passed like a dream.
The two lovers returned from Seranthia with less energy than they’d left with, strolling rather than running, but laughing just as much. It was late, nearly dawn, and Marney Beldara, Carla’s father, would be angry, but Killian didn’t care, and neither did Carla. Marney was as much of a father to Killian as he was to her, and Killian knew he had a bright future with the troupe.
Nevertheless, Killian and Carla hurried along the stretch of road leading back to the camp. Killian was partway through a joke he’d heard from the fire-eater twins when Carla suddenly grabbed Killian’s hand and pulled him off the road.
“What . . .?”
“Shh,” Carla said, hauling him far from the road as she pointed. “Look.”
A large column of men marched back in the direction of Seranthia. Carla pulled harder on Killian’s hand and began to run, continuing until they were out in the fields, and then she made Killian lie beside her on the ground.
“Shh,” she said. “Don’t make a sound.”
Killian felt her tense beside him. He started to wonder what such a large group of men were doing out so late at night.