Movement No. 12
Tempest
After the carnival closes, everyone meets in the hall for dinner before The Sinner’s Circus, and I struggle to keep my composure, especially while sitting near Reina.
Though there are two Executioners, I have theories about which one was responsible for my cousin’s death, even if nobody will confirm them yet.
I have found a friend in Taryn, and I am forced to work with Yasmeena, even finding some pleasure in it, but that doesn’t mean I have to be kind to everyone. Especially not Reina.
Nor should I.
I am one step closer to avenging Tyrus. I know my father’s mission is for me to kill the half-demon who gave the orders, but I still don’t have to like her. And I definitely don’t trust her.
I didn’t even really like Tyrus. I loved him the way you’re supposed to love everyone you’re related to, but I didn’t like him.
Honestly, I was jealous. My father never even suggested I try and challenge Tyrus to become Alpha.
It was like he never believed in me, and now look where we’re at. I’m his only option.
Tyrus made bad decisions, and he was likely going to run this pack into the ground, but he was family. Family and the pack must always come first. Lupion are loyal to a fault. Every decision I make here is grounded in that.
Reina offers me the pasta bowl, and I take it without a word.
“Thank you not in your vocabulary?” she asks, and I try not to take the bait. “Whatever, Temper.”
“Tempest,” I correct her.
“Don’t mind fangs, she gets a little grouchy when guests overstay their welcome,” Draven cuts in, and my muscles freeze.
Taking a deep breath, I try not to be exactly what she’s calling me. “I would leave if I could.”
Raph bangs a cup against the table and everyone stops their conversations mid-sentence. “Tonight’s performances will include: The Scorpion and The Butterfly, The Goliath, The Mermaid, The Pretzel, The Sphinx, and The Phantom.”
“So how does it work?” I ask, looking around the table.
“It used to be a fixed, rotating schedule, but now Raph draws from a hat. We’re all supposed to perform around twenty nights a month. If you get drawn and you’re busy that night, he’ll just pick someone else. We all agree this is much better for everyone,” Gemma explains, giving me a polite smile.
“There are exceptions, obviously,” Draven starts. “If the king or another governor joins us, Raph selects a special line up that almost always includes The Pretzel.”
A flash of discomfort crosses Lilian and Yasmeena’s faces for a split second, but neither of them say a word, and it’s at this exact moment I wish I could read minds.
“Interesting.” I look down at my empty plate and frown.
“We also try to schedule our most popular acts for Friday and Saturday nights,” Lilian explains. “Gemma and Draven’s new sphere of death show is our most popular act yet.”
“Yes, thank you. Our lovely sister Taryn’s duo with Rowan is also favored highly,” Draven shares.
Lilian’s smile broadens. “And my husband Baelor—The Carver—is a big hit.”
Draven and Gemma exchange a look, and I am once again too curious for my own good. “Oh really, what does he do?”
“He carves into people’s skin,” Reina says flatly. “That’s his show.”
“Ah.” I don’t have anything else to say other than yikes.
“We should get going. I have work to do tonight, so you can sit in the audience until Yasmeena is done performing.” Reina stands up and crosses out of the room, Absinthe following shortly behind her.
Great. Just what I wanted to do.
The Sinner’s Circus is a spectacle like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Everyone wears masks and elaborate costumes, even the attendees, and it’s hard to tell what people actually are.
There could be lupion sitting next to felion and depending on how much perfume someone is wearing to mask their scent, they might not even notice each other.
It’s borderline overstimulating as I make my way to my designated seat in the audience. I was given a plain, slate gray satin slip dress to wear with a wolf-inspired half-mask.
It’s not something I would’ve chosen for myself, but I love the way it accentuates the muscular planes of my stomach, while also showing off my back and biceps.
The lights are dimmed and Governor Raph—also known as The Phantom—takes center stage, a spotlight shining down on him.
“Come one, come all, if you dare—” Raph begins, reciting the sign from outside the front entrance of the big top. “Our first performer is sure to throw someone for a loop, please welcome The Sphinx.”
Through clouds of smoke coming out from the floor, Yasmeena enters the center seemingly out of nowhere, dressed in an all-black sparkly bodysuit. It showcases every curve, every flex of her muscles, and I have to stop myself from drooling.
Nobody would think anything of it, but something twists in my gut at the thought of lusting over her. It’s not even that she’s a felion or that our people hate each other. No, it’s deeper than that. It’s stronger than that.
No matter what good we do together, I could never care for someone who participated in the murder of Tyrus. It was an attempt at destroying my pack, and it was a betrayal of the pact Luc Morningstar made with my father and Alpha.
Truly unforgivable.
The lyra comes down and Yasmeena grabs the hoop and performs a flare before getting into her first pose. Her body moves with undeniable fluidity—she might as well be made of water.
Just as I think that, water starts moving up and down her limbs, wrapping around them much like my aerial silks do. It’s entrancing and downright mesmerizing to see it flow around her as she continues to make new shapes on her hoop.
She’s beautiful. A beautiful fucking nuisance.
When Yasmeena jumps off and poses, the audience stands up in applause, and Governor Raph comes on to introduce the next performer.
“Give it up for The Pretzel, who is sure to twist your arm off!”
Lilian makes her way into the center, placing her hands on a handstand cane, and getting into her first handstand before contorting her figure into unique shapes.
She could easily use her wings for balance, or even to cheat, but she doesn’t. If anything, her wings seem like a hindrance to what she’s trying to do.
“Hey,” someone whispers from beside me, and I turn to see Yasmeena in her performance bodysuit, but wearing a mask I’ve never seen before. It looks like the skull of a cat. “Mind if I take this seat?”
“Nope,” I say, not that it would matter. I’m stuck in a demon circus being babysat by strangers. What a fucking disaster my life has become; I should be preparing to lead my pack, but instead I’m playing house with a cat. She’s lucky she’s cute.
Once Lilian’s act is complete, Raph introduces Taryn and Rowan’s joint act. Taryn is placed into a giant martini glass and performs a series of poses before Rowan comes on in a Cyr wheel. The two continue performing together, interacting as they move their bodies to the music.
I can’t help but wonder if when I’m instructed to finally take Draven out, if Rowan will be one of the people I’m forced to face, or if he’ll be too busy with his own family.
Maybe I can find a way to ensure most of the carnies aren’t home.
I could freeze camp, or find some other way.
Send them on vacation—something to ensure there are no more casualties than there needs to be.
“When were you going to tell me you have access to magic?” I ask, and Yasmeena doesn’t respond for a few beats.
“All of The Devil’s Masquerade have access to magic, and not that it’s any of your business, but the king is planning on rolling out magical access to citizens of Haeresis in the next few years,” she finally answers.
No wonder they were able to kill Tyrus.
“When were you going to tell me?” she asks, “I learned when we were out hunting.”
I roll my eyes. “I figured you read it in my file.”
Though it’s up to me to execute Draven, my entire pack will be fighting Yasmeena and the others. They need to know they all have magic, and I need to find out exactly what kind.
“Do you not realize how asinine that sounds? He’s going to roll out something everyone should already have?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I know you’re an expert in wolfy politics, but you can’t even begin to comprehend the complexities of something as large as running an entire planet,” Yasmeena bites back.
I cross my arms, trying to focus on Taryn’s performance, before I finally cave to my more primal desire—being right. “And you do? Who died and left you king?”
“It is quite literally my job to try and listen to everything that’s happening, every microscopic detail, and see the bigger picture. So yes, I have magic.”
“Consider yourself lucky, then. Most of us with magic had to sacrifice or fight for it.”
“I had to fight for it too, Princess. Luc didn’t just grant me magic one day—I had it before I ever joined the carnival.
It was how my brother and I were able to escape Ira.
I couldn’t even control it for the first few years, and only now am I beginning to understand how to properly wield it,” she explains, and a sprinkle of guilt fills me.
“I understand the rage you feel regarding the royal family controlling the magicite, trust me. I understand it all too well.”
“My ancestors invented those runes. They were the ones who discovered magicite could be turned into atra,” I say, unsure of why I felt like sharing that. “They’re why I’m able to wield ice.”
“Light a candle and tell them I’m grateful,” she says, and I nod. The audience applauds Taryn and Rowan.
Raph comes back to the center and introduces Gemma and Draven’s act—The Sphere of Death, their knife-throwing burlesque dancing extravaganza.
Gemma and Draven are equally captivating as they take center stage, both bringing an energy and charm that I want to bottle up. The way she moves, and the way he reacts in tandem, it’s effortless.
“They’re amazing,” I say as they take their bows. Their strengths and talents are equally breathtaking and terrifying.
Yasmeena looks at me and smiles. “We can be too.”