“We had it covered,” Diantha says, wrapping a hand around Reina’s wrist as if holding her where her wound was can bandage something else.

“Of course,” Roman says. He steps back, but his eyes linger on mine.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

He shakes himself. “Maybe.” He plucks my knife from the ground. I reach my hand out for it, but he’s not even looking at me. He taps his thumb against the sharp tip.

His eyes move back to mine while he runs a finger down the edge of the blade. I force myself to meet his stare. Two can play this game. One side of his mouth quirks up the tiniest bit. Finally, he speaks. “I’d like you to perform with me.”

I feel a tiny zing of excitement at the thought of performing with a guy who stabbed his own hand in front of a group of kids, but I don’t answer.

“No, thanks,” Reina says.

“I’m in need of a second knife thrower for a new act. Don’t you think you owe me a favor?”

“Why me?” Surely there are other magicians who throw knives.

“I need you,” he says simply.

Those three words are nice. They distract me from my line of thought. When someone says they need you, it makes you want to toss yourself into that need, expand yourself to fill it, or cut yourself in half like a magician’s assistant if that’s what they require, because helping them will make you feel whole for a moment. Until they don’t want you anymore, and you’re left contorted and gangly, and you can’t quite remember your original shape.

The words pull at me like they always do, but this time I swat them away. “I don’t want you throwing knives at me.”

“I’m quite good,” Roman says.

“I don’t care.”

Roman tosses my knife in the air, catches it by the blade, and holds it out to me. “I won’t hit you, and what’s more, I’ll give you a turn to throw at me too.” His voice is solid, firm, unquestionable—almost tangible enough to hold on to. It makes me trust him.

I hesitate for a moment, then, “Fine, I’m in.”

Reina groans.

CHAPTER 12

Their names were James and June. Cute. Too cute, like Hallmark poetry. It made sense, though, since they were a Hallmark couple. They even had a golden retriever. Our last foster home had been cold. We were two of three foster kids in the home. The oldest was a teenage girl who went in and out and didn’t really speak to us. It felt like nobody really spoke to us besides telling us to come to dinner or get ready for school. It felt like we were ghosts that appeared only when someone needed us to do something.