Chapter 22 #2
Victor’s half smile was lazy and all-knowing. “Ah, Selene. You lie to your friends, and I’ll lie to mine. But let’s not lie to each other.”
She buried her feet in the sand, pulling her dress up to keep it safe from the oncoming wave. She looked at him with naked determination. “Winning is my only option.”
“There she is,” Victor said. “Is it worth the risk, after what happened today?”
“It’s not your turn.” Selene arched an eyebrow.
Victor’s sheepish grin was reminiscent of any time he’d been caught, hand in the cookie jar.
Selene was transported back, back, back to another time when she was another girl—just for a moment.
Victor didn’t notice. He tossed something no bigger than her thumbnail up into the air.
He tossed it again, this time almost losing it to a sea breeze, and held it to his body, cupping his hand toward the starlight to make sure it was still there.
“What is that?”
“Terrible use of your question.” Victor lifted his palm up to the light so she could see. “It’s a nautilus shell. Unusual for these parts.”
Something about it tugged at Selene. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Listen.” Victor held it up to her ear.
Selene could hear the song of the sea echoing within.
The melody was simple and sweet and familiar.
She’d done this with her father, shell after shell, identifying the pitches with him.
He’d used it to teach her about resonance.
The shell had no song of its own; it captured the shallow sounds outside of it and amplified them.
A song that sang itself.
Selene shivered.
Would this be enough for the mirror?
“May I have it?”
Victor brushed his calloused fingers down the length of her forearm, cupping her hand. He placed the seashell in the center of her palm.
“It’s not your turn to ask questions, Selene.” His voice was low and playful. She dared to look into his eyes. He watched her like she was the sea. A wonder and a force of nature and something deadly to behold. She thought he might kiss her. She was very sure he would.
A wave splashed up. Victor wrapped his hand around hers, protecting the tiny shell and shielding her against the water. She was speckled with it, but he was soaked. His laugh sounded like bell tolls. He released her and took a step back, deeper into the water.
“What do you think my father will say?”
“Nothing,” Selene said. “But he’ll make you—”
She swallowed her words. She didn’t want to say it, even though it had been true their entire childhood. She couldn’t say it. There was so much unspoken between them about the way the king had treated Victor. She hoped it wasn’t true anymore.
“He’ll make me pay for it later,” Victor finished. The lightness of his voice did not meet the void of his eyes.
“Does he still?”
The great clock in the great hall struck. The sound of it was amplified, and it nearly startled the shell out of Selene’s hands. She looked to him, eyes wide. This was it. This was the moment she’d find out if she was enough. If all her dreams would coalesce.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Victor reached for her hand. “We can be fish again, back in the sea. You can live a different life.”
She pulled her hand away. “I’ve worked too hard for this, Victor.”
“There’s a whole world outside your opera house, beyond this city.”
She wondered then, about the wideness of the world and the magic within.
Did they have opera houses filled with ruthless and hopeful magicians who’d do almost anything to win?
She didn’t think so, but couldn’t say for sure.
Any simulacrum of L’Opéra du Magician in other places could be no more than a shadow.
But she hadn’t paid enough attention to anything besides her music and magic to have even a sense of that.
“I don’t want the world. I want to win.”
He put his hands in his pockets. “You’d better run, then.”
The bell of the clock tolled, counting down the moments before the competitors were unmasked.
Selene picked up her skirts and sprinted, Victor close behind her, carrying her shoes.
The crowd gathered in the ballroom, spilling out the expansive doors.
All manner of masks and extravagant colors marred the usually sparse ballroom.
Selene slipped through a secret entrance and followed the passageway.
It would deposit her at the edge of the dais—right where she needed to be.
Victor caught her hand, just before she entered the room. His skin was wet and sandy but warm.
“Keep your eyes open,” he whispered. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
Promises, promises. She didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant.
She was swept up into the line of her competitors.
They made a half-moon at the back of the dais.
Gigi was on the other end of the stage, the beginning of the line.
Selene was the end. She cast a glance at Selene’s bare feet, one eyebrow lifting above the mask.
Selene flashed her a smile, glad to focus on that rather than the raucous beat of her heart.
The past King’s Mages shared the dais with them, sitting in a row behind the thrones.
Offra looked worn thin. She was pale and pinched, not at all the bright, bronzed girl who had taken the title seven years before.
There were gaps between the mages, leaving space for those who were now gone.
For her father. And for Maris, who had gone mad a year into her tenure.
Her departure was the reason why Giuseppe had been called back.
It was a sort of déjà vu seeing these mages again now, each of them adorned with enough jewels to make a king’s ransom.
Selene had thought of this moment a thousand times.
Thought of seeing these faces, being with the people who shared the same title as her father.
Looking at them now, it was no wonder that they hadn’t been the ones called back.
It was as if all the color had been drained from them, the light gone from their eyes.
Her father hadn’t been like that. He had still been bright and effervescent, until the end.
The king stood. The queen and Henri did, too. Victor had managed his way around the back of the dais and was dripping on the velvet cushion, looking endlessly pleased with himself. The king flashed him a dark look, a muscle working in his jaw. He put out his hands and the crowd hushed.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice slick, “is the beginning. Tonight, we unmask the magicians who will have their chance to win L’Opéra du Magician and be my mage.”
A chill ran up Selene’s spine at the way he said my mage.
“Only the greatest magicians can serve this court,” he said, glancing to the pointed edges of the half-moon.
Selene and Gigi. Selene cast a glance to Madame Giroux, standing just out of the light next to the dais.
Her hands were tight on her cane. “Which of you will serve me? Step forth, and we shall find out!”
One by one, her competitors moved in a line.
Ramin’s hands trembled. Priya looked smug, despite her lackluster audition.
Revelio’s eyes were downcast, refusing to make contact with Selene.
There were only ten of them now, down from thirteen.
How many more would be cut tonight? The number varied from year to year, with only the best going on to perform for L’Opéra du Magician. Selene reminded herself to breathe.
Let it be me. She wished her father could hear her.
There was a great flash of light.
Selene wanted to shut her eyes and block it out, but she remembered what Victor had said, only moments before.
She kept her eyes open. Her mask burst with a blinding flash of luminescent color.
The orchestra swelled, timed with the symphony.
The stage magicians sang the light and bent it to new spectrums, turning it into a kaleidoscope of color on her skin.
The crowd roared, drowning out the sound of the music.
Selene reached up, just to be certain. Her mask was gone, leaving her face bare. Those still masked were ushered off. Revelio looked at Priya with shock and seething rage, just before he was ripped from the dais.
The king put up his hands again. They looked older than they should, with papery skin and age spots. The room went silent.
From the corner of the stage, Selene could see Madame Giroux. She expected to see pride or joy or pleasant surprise. But Madame’s eyes were wide, mouth gaping. She looked like she was trapped in a nightmare, like this was the worst thing that could have happened.
But only for a moment, a slip of the mask. And then she had a vague smile on her lips. Her hands gripped her cane tight enough to snap it.
And then there was Victor. His dark eyes were lanterns, lighthouses. He looked at her like she was just out of his reach and he’d stop at nothing to reach her.
“Introducing the talent for L’Opéra du Magician: Gigi Giroux, Priya Ankari, Cameron Garnier, Ramin Mondego, and Selene Dreshé.”
Selene closed her eyes and listened to the music of the applause.