XXXVI | THE PAINTED SKY CIRCUS
Of course, Celvene wasn't supposed to know that.
She only found out when she'd taken Khamisi to the opening ceremony, and he'd bought five bags of chocolate popped corn.
A merchant had grumbled about not seeing any of her profits, so before they left to see the show, Celvene had left a small tip and smiled at the woman in hopes it would cheer her up.
Judging by the woman's wide grin and profuse thanks, it had.
Celvene stood at the entrance, feeling small in a place so grand.
As usual, it was bustling with activity.
Laughter filled the clearing, and the cool night's breeze rustled the grass, gone dry by the groundskeeper's neglect.
Patrons milled about in front of her, flashing shiny coins and memorabilia—painted rocks, sewn hats, and dull necklaces dotted with fake jewels.
Even though she knew there was a performance tonight, thanks to the banner near the entrance, it was typical for the circus to be quite populated on their minimal days off. The merchants never slept, so they always had at least one customer waiting.
She stepped inside, shrinking into herself.
Normally, she'd have a hood, but now she couldn't disappear, thanks to her outfit.
There was a chance security would've been told about her, or recognized her from the papers, but they wouldn't have been able to tell that from her entering the circus—she slipped in through a gap in the fence near the back of the main tent that she'd discovered a few months prior instead of walking through the entrance and paying for a ticket with her nonexistent money.
The extent of her troubles was a few stares from workers and customers alike, and she knew why. She was still wearing the prison clothing she'd been put into in Noriya: nothing more than her black shirt and pants, plus flimsy shoes.
Would it have been nice to change out of such gaudy wear? Yes, but she was taken prisoner again the second she could've made her way to go change. She was just glad Elas had freed her before she could be locked up in another jail cell, whether or not she was wearing appropriate attire.
The overwhelming smell of sweets wafted over her, and she scrunched her nose.
Wandering towards the staff entrance, she kept her head low.
She wondered if there was anyone here she actually knew.
It had been a few weeks since she left, but Korvin didn't have an issue with firing those who didn't live up to his expectations.
Celvene had to hand it to him—his methods were effective.
She'd made a glaring error in her performance only once in her time at the circus.
The thought of meeting Korvin again after their last encounter made Celvene's stomach churn, though. She wasn't sure she'd be able to muster up the courage to speak to him the same way she had last time.
She still wasn't exactly sure who or where she was planning to go to, especially seeing as most of her friends wouldn't be happy to see her, considering she all but abandoned them with the news of the crown.
"Celvene?" a voice spoke from behind, and as Celvene turned and her eyes settled on the girl, a wide grin grew on her face.
"Quinn!" squealed Celvene, rushing forward.
Quinn was the gem of the Painted Sky Cirus, a diamond in the rough. She had deep tan skin, dusted with freckles and decorated with deep dimples on her plump cheeks that grew when she smiled.
A crowd favorite, she was skilled in everything, with a focus in acrobatics.
Celvene had always admired the way she could move her curvy body; she twisted her limbs in ways Celvene hadn't thought possible.
And her favorite performance involved Celvene because somehow, she was able to juggle flaming balls while she did her stunts.
While Quinn wasn't who she'd gone to for lessons in acrobatics, Celvene had never shied away from asking the girl for pointers. And Quinn was one of the people at the circus that wouldn't bite Celvene's head off for her leaving.
Probably.
She wrapped her arms around Quinn, relishing in the smell of ashen fire and ember that surrounded her. Smiling into the crook of the girl's neck, she froze for a moment before pulling back. "Are you the only one left?"
"Sheesh, Celvene, could you put it any more morbidly?
" said Quinn, though the cheeky smile that crossed her face told Celvene she wasn't mad.
The acrobat's grin fell, however, as a more serious expression took hold of her features.
"No. Korvin's been ruthless since you left.
Speaking of, why'd you leave? And what are you wearing? "
"What, you don't like my new outfit?" Celvene pulled on the itchy fabric of her lackluster shirt before placing a hand on her hip. "I think it makes me look like royalty."
Quinn's eyes widened in realization. "Gods. It slipped my mind. Circus has been too busy for me to keep updated. You wielded that sword, didn't you? For the new ruler?"
"Yes, but it hasn't exactly gone according to plan. Not that I had a plan."
"Must be pretty bad if you're crawling back to this godforsaken pit. What happened?" Quinn cocked her head to the side, thick black curls falling in tandem. The crowd grew louder behind Celvene—they must've been starting.
Celvene shrugged. "I'm not the only one who thinks they're eligible to take that crown. But I actually have a claim to the throne."
"I mean, let's be realistic. You're not exactly who they're looking for. You've lived like the other citizens in Aizasea since you got here, and they don't want someone who understands what normal citizens go through."
"But that's exactly why I should be queen." Celvene frowned. She could hear the over-exaggerated yells of Korvin introducing the first acts to the audience. "Wouldn't the people rather have someone that's like them? Not some stuck-up royal?"
"That's not how they see it." Quinn rested a hand on Celvene's shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
"Look, I have to go. Korvin will have my head if I'm not in the ring on time.
But we'll catch up later, okay? Go sit in the dressing room.
Dress yourself with some of my clothes if they'll fit.
.." she paused, eyeing Celvene's frame, "though you look like you've lost some weight, so it'll definitely be baggier than normal.
I'm sure someone will keep you company. "
"Hopefully not Korvin," muttered Celvene under her breath. "But thanks. I missed you."
"Missed you too, sihalwa." And with that, Quinn was bounding past Celvene, flowery cape and skirt fluttering behind her.
The quick flurry of violin and lute strings roared, filling the circus tent with a gentle yet entrancing melody.
Celvene recognized the song in an instant—it was a classic song heavy on instrumentals that Korvin would play to himself during late nights in his office using a recording spell.
She'd heard it often while passing by his room.
She proceeded into the staff area of the circus, ignoring the wary glances from new employees cast her way.
None of them would try to stop her as long as she didn't touch or attack them; they weren't paid enough to play security, even against a frail girl like Celvene.
And chances were, anything stolen from the tent was hurting the revenue of Korvin, not the workers.
She just had to avoid the actual security guards.
She knew her way to the dressing room, so it was a short walk.
Though the employees had changed, Korvin was sane enough to keep the layout of the tent the same.
The traveling band wasn't as lucky. Korvin would change the layout of the tent before each performance ended, leading to a dizzying maze of confusion for Celvene to traverse when she was done for the night.
Korvin had said it was to keep thieves out, but if thieves were that interested in stealing, she doubted a bunch of weak wooden stakes and cotton curtains would keep them from walking forward.
She checked the hallway for any guards before dashing into the dressing room. The curtains in here were dirtied, stained brown from constant movement as people got ready and kicked dirt into the air.
Racks lined the walls with various costumes hanging from the metal, ranging from frilly and flowery to distinguished and sleek. A few boxes were strewn about. Celvene was about to beeline it to one before she redirected her attention to the single mirror in the dressing room.
She walked over, inspecting the makeup with a grimace. Celvene never had to doll herself up, and she was thankful for that. The budget of the circus did not go into the appearances of the workers, and as a result, Korvin bought knockoff makeup that tended to make the workers' faces swell up.
As if on cue, footsteps approached from behind her. Celvene tensed. Her hand curled around a small handheld mirror. Korvin's aged face slithered into view, smiling as always.
Her stomach flipped, heartbeat stuttering in her chest. Suddenly, all semblance of courage vanished from her body.