The Cirque is quiet as I slip in through the back and move fast down the winding corridor until I reach the dressing room. I shoot a glance over my shoulder and when I see no one’s there, I push through.
Heading straight for the clothes, I rip my backpack off my shoulder and start stuffing it full. Outfits. Jewelry. Wigs. Anything that’ll help me transform into someone else tonight.
Once I’ve grabbed enough, I sling the bag back on and step out, but just as I hit the corridor, I hear her behind me.
“Aurelia.” Madame’s voice slices through the quiet, stopping me cold.
My eyes close, feeling caught out before I turn on my heel and face her. She doesn’t say another word, just gestures for me to follow and disappears into her chamber.
I breathe out, jaw tight, muscles locked, and move forward, every step heavier than the last as I step inside and brace for whatever punishment she’s about to give.
As soon as I enter, she’s there behind her desk, lighting a cigarette like she’s been waiting for me. I stop in the middle of the room, watching the smoke whisp through the air before her eyes finally meet mine.
“Aurelia,” she says, calm and unreadable. “Tell me about yourself.”
My body tenses, the question landing like a slap.
“What?” I blink, caught off guard.
She takes a slow drag, then exhales. “I know you were with Kyro for some time, but there’s nothing about where you were before that.”
My jaw tightens and my teeth grind. I hate when people dig.
“And why would you want to know?” I bite, keeping my voice level but tight.
“You’re an outsider,” she says simply. “You didn’t come from where the rest of us did. I needed to know if you’re a threat—to the Cirque, and to everything we’ve built here.”
I raise an eyebrow, arms folding across my chest.
“And did you do the same with Noir?” I challenge.
She mirrors my expression with a slight tilt of her chin, cool and unaffected.
“I didn’t feel I needed to.”
“But you do with me?” I press, my tone edged.
She doesn’t answer. She just stares without blinking.
“I was fostered,” I admit, just to give her something so she’ll back off.
“By whom?” she asks, casual as ever, like this is small talk.
“Does it matter?”
A soft, cunning smile curls across her red lips as she lowers her eyes, flicking ash into the tray.
“Dark Night’s in a few days,” she says smoothly. “You’re not ready to perform, but you’re more than welcome to watch.”
“Watch what?”
Her dark eyes flick back up to mine as she takes a long, unhurried drag.
“People be killed, of course,” she answers, like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
I just blink, offering nothing, but she’s watching me closely, waiting for some kind of reaction, yet I don’t give one.
She snickers, smoke curling from her lips.