Beside Tressa, I’d been invisible. Beside Shamino, I was Tressa.
They think we’re courting. He had to know this would happen.
Shamino’s arm had turned rock-hard with tension. If he was uncomfortable with the gossip, then it must have been because he didn’t like it.
He called me beautiful.
Because you were acting like an addled donkey.
We broke free of the crowd and went up the steps. He led me to two armless wooden seats behind the rail. I could lean over and see the people below—a sea of movement and color.
“I’m sorry we’re so high up,” Shamino said. “And with uncomfortable seats.”
“No, it’s glorious. We can see everything.” I leaned back and our arms touched. A strange, fluttery feeling ripped through me. I began to lean to the left, but a middle-aged man took the seat next to me. I pressed against Shamino once more and tried not to blush at the growing flutters.
“I’m not sure I can manage a Gaze spell…” Shamino frowned at the black curtains below.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Sometimes it’s okay to be normal. We can watch the play with perfectly unmagicked eyes.”
A small smile and a ‘hmph.’ “That’s what I like about you. You see the world differently. ‘Normal’ means without magic. Father would die if he heard you.”
Differently. Of course I did. “Do you not get along at all with your father?”
“No.” By the clipped way he said it, the topic was over.
Almost all the seats had filled. Lights over the audience began to wink out. One vanished, then a pause, and another winked out. Excitement bubbled higher in my chest with each extinguished Light. The play would start soon.
“Mother used to take me,” Shamino suddenly said. “Father thinks the theater a waste of time and money, but Mother took me to every performance in Dragonsridge. Rogan wanted to please Father, and Emory didn’t care for it.”
“Emory?”
“Younger brother,” Shamino said. “It’s starting.”
Massive black-velvet curtains parted. Within moments, I realized why the nobles loved the theater so. For a short time, you lost yourself in another person’s problems. I didn’t know if the actors were good, or the story, but it seemed wonderful to me. An Illusionist must have done the scenery, it was so lifelike and beautiful. Even those on the balcony could smell the food and feel the breeze.
We watched as Ian, an awkward young man, decided that the best way to understand a woman’s heart was to pretend to be a woman himself. He became a lady-in-waiting to Clarisse, the daughter of a duke. I laughed until I cried at the awkward situations ‘Iana’ stumbled into. Then I sobered as Clarisse told her dearest friend of her love for the prince. In that moment, Iana realized his love for Clarisse.
The curtains closed.
“What? It’s over?” I grabbed the railing, and the man sitting next to me stood and walked away. “Oh! I’m sorry—”
Shamino put a hand on my arm so I wouldn’t run after the man. “It’s intermission.” At my confused look, he repeated with a mostly suppressed smile, “Intermission. A break. The play isn’t over yet.”
“… Oh.” I sank into my seat.
“I can tell you’re enjoying the story. What do you think of…” Gradually Shamino eased me into talking about the play. My embarrassment lessened as we relived the hilarious parts of the story. All around, people stood, walked, chatted. Yet somehow Shamino and I sat apart in our own little place. I’m sure they whispered, I’m sure they stared, but somehow, I didn’t notice or care.
“Do you think Ian should tell her?” Shamino asked.
I bit my lip. I wanted to say yes, but how could he? “Ian has her friendship. And love, in a way.”
Deep green eyes met mine. Green eyes that matched my dress. I wondered if that had been why I’d wanted it so.
Shamino spoke, and I could hear his carefulness. “Think of what they could have instead.”
I focused on the closed curtain. “She may never forgive him. You know. For deceiving her.”
Silence. People began to return to their seats. Then Shamino whispered, “Ian should take the risk. Clarisse’s love is worth it.”
No. First One, no.
The theater grew dimmer. I willed the curtains to open, begged the play to take us away from my life where love was impossible.
The last Light winked out.
Curtains parted.
I sighed in relief. I was safe. Iana stepped onto the stage, I could focus on her problems and not my own for a little longer and—
Shamino’s hand slid into mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
My heart stopped. Below, Iana began lamenting her plight, but I didn’t hear. All my senses focused on Shamino’s hand: its warmth, the way his fingers fell into mine like perfection. Then, slowly, my heart began to beat again:
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
“I can’t,” I said in a strangled whisper.
Shamino tightened his grip.
Make it through the rest of the performance. Honestly, did I want him to let go? For another Sphere, I could pretend. I could live a romantic story as I watched one, and then…
Then I’d break his heart.
And mine.
In the play, Iana accidentally caught the prince’s eye. One morning, as Clarisse searched behind a sofa for a dropped needle, the prince entered the room with Iana and declared undying love to the dismayed lady-in-waiting. Clarisse stood and accused Iana of betraying her trust. Iana tried to explain, but Clarisse only grew more upset. As Iana turned to flee, Clarisse stepped on her skirts and fabric ripped. The audience laughed at the revealing of Iana’s true gender. A betrayed Clarisse fled as the prince made crude jokes, and my heart bled for poor Ian.
“See,” I whispered. “It’s over. Ian doesn’t even have her friendship.”
Shamino caressed the back of my hand with his thumb.
Ian returned home in disgrace and depression. Days passed. A servant boy asked the reason for his master’s melancholy, and Ian told him about his grave mistakes. Ian vowed never to love another, for no woman could match Clarisse’s beauty and spirit. The servant boy sprang forward and kissed him. As Ian
