The ringmaster’s brows furrowed. He spun once, his hand coming up to swipe at nothing.

A loud screech echoed through the tent and chatter lifted from the crowd as one of the white lion’s cage doors slid open. Then another, and all the rest followed. The ringmaster spun on his heel as the lions emerged, barring their teeth, growls rumbling through the tent.

Timblewon suddenly appeared back beside Apple, and Apple screamed. He slapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her down the row toward the exit. I was hot on his heels, Zane dancing backward down the aisle, casting his electric-eyed glare at the intrigued audience. Wanda fidgeted by the tent flap; I fell into step beside her, and we broke into the cold night, the coloured smoke gliding over us. I glanced back to find Zane waiting for Mirkra. Flowery security creatures rounded the path just as Mirkra burst from the flap; Zane grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down a different path than us.

Apple craned her neck toward me. “Hurry, friend!” she called. Kilen appeared from a tent across the pathway and walked parallel to our group.

A figure shifted at the edge of the path, mostly shadowed by a tall checkerboard tent. My heels skidded to a stop. The others didn’t notice—Timblewon led them around the snowy bend toward the field where we’d left Fred’s sleigh.

The figure crept from the shadow, and my breathing stilled. The firelights illuminated his white beard, his droopy eyelids, and his bright, golden irises.

“Helen!” I heard Zane somewhere at my back.

The man with the white beard glanced behind me toward Zane’s voice, then back to me. He raised his hand like the ringmaster had done, and he flicked his wrist.

It was so quick; I almost didn’t feel the tether wrap my waist. My body was sucked forward like I was speeding through a straw.

I vanished.

THE SIXTH

My gasp filled the air as I landed on my feet. My wide eyes looked around the cozy space.

A tent. I was still at the circus.

I turned, hands balled into fists. The navy tent fabric rippled in the breeze coming through the open flap, silver star-shaped wind chimes clattering overhead.

There the man sat, fiddling with a mechanical gadget and not even paying me any attention. The table before him was covered in metal pieces, like oddly shaped bolts and gears.

“Excuse me?” I said, snapping my fingers in front of him.

The man shot me an annoyed look past his droopy eyelids. Then he went back to his fiddling.

I huffed. “I know you saw me,” I said to him. “In the Trite world. I know it was your eye; I recognize your tent.”

The man only shrugged. “What of it?” He looked up again and raised his brows.

“Uh…” I blinked. “Why? Aren’t you even going to tell my why you’ve been watching me?”