The afterparty is a swirling kaleidoscope of colors and characters. Crew members and performers mingle together as fireflies hover in the air, casting a soft glow like suspended lanterns. The room buzzes with laughter and lively conversations that dance across the space in hues of red, orange, pink, and purple.
My palms are slick with sweat as I weave through the crowd, feeling the weight of every gaze in the cramped tent. I can still feel the lingering energy from the performance, the unnatural confidence that surged through me onstage. I know that whatever happened out there wasn't entirely my doing—it was Cyrus's influence. Deep down, I understand what I am, and what I am not. And I am not a Fortune Teller.
"Aye, Miss," a voice calls out from my left.
I turn to see a gray-haired man with plump cheeks and a patch covering his left eye waving me over. He's dressed in black and white striped pants, with a worn red shirt that doesn't quite cover his round belly.
"You were amazing out there!" he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear, despite the gaps in his teeth. "Truly amazing. The last Fortune Teller could barely string two words together. She wasn't around long, sadly. But you? You're a natural."
My heart sinks at the mention of the last Fortune Teller. I need to know more about what happened to her.
"What's your name?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light.
"Name's Fendrel," he replies, his toothless smile widening. "Been working with the lions for the past decade. We used to have more, but they never last long around here."
"Sounds a lot like the Fortune Tellers," I say, testing the waters.
Fendrel's face flushes scarlet. "No, no, that's not what I meant. Lions... they're just harder to come by, Miss. When we do get them, they're usually older. All the animals that perform here have been rescued from a cruel master."
"Really?" I raise an eyebrow, intrigued and confused. Cyrus Hardgrove, a man who rescues animals from horrible situations, yet rains fire down on Theo for trying to speak? The contradiction gnaws at me, making it harder to decipher who Cyrus truly is.
"Really," Fendrel beams, his pride in the Ringmaster evident. "He's a real hero, Cyrus is."
"Tell me, Fendrel," I begin, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow, "what's your favorite part of the show?"
Fendrel leans in closer, the earthy scent of manure clinging to him. "Every once in a while, Cyrus and Freya perform together. It's... well, you'll just have to wait and see, Miss."
I blink, trying to make sense of this new piece of information, my mind spinning from all the fragments I've gathered in the last few hours. Everything feels like it's coming at me too fast, too soon.
As if sensing my confusion, Cyrus appears beside me, a saccharine smile plastered on his face. "You didn't change," he observes, his tone light but edged with something darker.
I glance down at my costume. "Was I supposed to?"
"Kenna," Cyrus scoffs, the sound dripping with mockery, "you're positively naive."
Fendrel gazes up at Cyrus like he's the brightest star in the night sky. "Sir, what a marvelous show tonight. Truly something else."
"Thank you, Fenny," Cyrus replies smoothly.
Fendrel practically glows under the nickname, his cheeks reddening. "Can I get you anything, Sir?"
"Could you check on all the animals?" the Ringmaster asks. "We'll be heading to our next destination tonight, and I want everyone comfortable for the journey."
YOU ARE READING
Spectacular! - ON HOLD
Fantasy"Smoke and mirrors are for cheap tricks and county fairs, Kenna," he says quietly. "The circus... the circus is where magic and mayhem collide." Nineteen-year-old Kenna Oberman leads a sheltered life taking care of her sickly mother until she's gift...
