Chapter Twenty-Six
LOLA
I’m seriously tempted to use Nic’s own glamours to singe him with the fire in my glare. “You knew from the start.”
“Knew what?” he asks innocently, leaning against a light pole and digging at his nails as though he has not a care in the world.
“That I was . . . her,” I whisper, darting a glance around to make sure no one is paying attention. “You deceived me.”
“How very surprising of me.” He smirks, dropping his hands into his pockets and sidling toward me, shoes squelching with fountain water. “The real question now seems to be why you are doing this game at all.”
I tip my head back to keep eye contact when he comes to a stop mere inches away. The ocean breeze lifts the soft, familiar scent of cigar smoke and cinnamon from his jacket, and I find myself breathing in deeply in spite of myself.
“You’re not charging admission, so it’s clearly not for profit,” he continues when I do not reply. “Could this be an elaborate decoy to draw the city’s attention away from something else?”
“Why would I tell you?”
“Does my brother know?” he asks. “Who Nocturne is?”
“No,” I snap. “And you’re not going to tell him.”
“He’d probably appreciate being informed.” Nic makes an exaggerated show of going up on his tiptoes and cupping his hand over his brow to shade out the sun that fully set twenty minutes ago. “Where did he get off to?”
The Unbreakable Lie zings a warning under my skin.
“I can’t be held responsible for what I might do to you if you try to tell him,” I say truthfully.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Not a threat. Candid honesty.” I thrust out my jaw.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means don’t tell Enzo,” I snap. “I quite literally might be forced to hurt you if you do. Or hurt myself. Or maybe the whole world would divide asunder. I’m not really sure.”
Nic’s grin fades. “Who would force you?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I wave him away. “Also, same goes for if you mess with my illusions again. That wasn’t even a little bit funny.”
“People laughed.”
“Correction.” I narrow my eyes. “You laughed. Everyone else was too busy being awed by my illusions to notice your nonsense.”
“Illusions that you stole,” he points out.
“Borrowed.”
“Borrowing implies you’re going to give me something back. Which you’re not.” He points past me. “Oh, look. There’s Enzo. If no one can tell him you’re Nocturne, what would happen if he finds out you steal magic? Surely he’d find that an important tidbit.”
I grab his forearm tight as a vise. “You do not care whether Enzo knows; you want something from me. Tell me what.”
He considers, tracking Enzo’s progress on the other side of the square. “You’ve drawn the entire city’s attention.”
“Are you”—I sink back, scrutinizing his face—“jealous?”
“What would I have to be jealous of ?”
“You don’t like that they’re paying attention to me and not you. You don’t like that I’ve been on the front page of the newspapers since the invitations went out or that more people showed up tonight than did at the tournament’s opening night four months ago.”
“That is hardly a fair comparison. First off, people had to pay to stay at my resort . . .”
I sidestep his rebuttal with a glare. “If you didn’t want to be forgotten, why did you disappear?”
He tilts his head, drinking in my breath like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. My mouth waters, the taste of our last kiss suddenly sharp on my tongue. “Disappearing,” he whispers, “is what liars do when people stray a little too close to the truth.”
“You’re trying to hurt me,” I say. “Or manipulate me. Probably both. It won’t work.”
He raises a finger to trace the outline of my cheek and smirks when I tremble. “Won’t it?”
He probably expects me to pull away, but I hold my ground. Stare right back at him. Ignore the sparks trailing under my skin in the wake of his touch. “What are you planning, Nic? Why come to my game if you know it’s a farce?”
He smirks. “You’ll receive a list of players. If you don’t want Enzo to find out about you, make sure those are the only ones who make it into the final enclosure of your game.”
“Who are they?” I ask, chest tightening. Why would he care who makes it to the last round? And where did Laurel go?
“My silence for your compliance. Take it or leave it.” He holds out his hand. “Do I have your word?”
“Only if you give me yours,” I say, raising my chin. “You don’t speak of Nocturne’s true identity to anyone, not just Enzo. And you play the game as though you have no idea how it’s being run.”
“Fair. Will you shake my hand now?”
I narrow my eyes. “And no more sabotaging my glamours.”
He nods at his hand. “Any more stipulations?”
“I get to burn the fedora.”
“This one? Good luck. It’s soaking wet.”
I scowl. “All of them.”
“It’s a signature look.”
“It’s silly.”
“It’s iconic.”
“It’s conceited.”
“You’re just sour because you know your illusions will always pale in comparison to the ones at the Liar’s Den.”
“No, I’m sour because you’re an ass.” I stick out my tongue.
“Oh, look, Enzo’s on his way back.” Nic nods toward the refreshment table. “With a platter of at least forty-two pastries, it appears. Your time is running out, little thief.”
I dodge a look over my shoulder and sigh. “Fine.” I grasp his hand so hard his knuckles crack and shake it once, praying this isn’t a huge mistake. “Now go away.”
Nic winks, then grins when I roll my eyes, rippling into invisibility just as Enzo elbows past the last group of people to reach me, holding his overflowing platter like it’s a chest of veritable treasure.
“I got at least two of everything,” Enzo announces.
“You are going to rot your teeth out.” I shake my head, steering him toward the record shop.
“Who needs teeth?”
We slip into the alleyway where onlookers won’t glimpse us vanish through the wall, and I try to ignore the cold of Nic’s watching eyes on the back of my neck.