I trail behind him, almost running to catch him with the long strides he’s making down the hallway.

“Roman.” His steps falter when I say his name.

I grab his arm. His bicep tenses under my palm for a second before relaxing, and I almost drop my hand. His face is cool as he turns toward me. His eyes drift to my hand wrinkling the white material of his shirt.

“Why didn’t you clap?”

A passing woman with blue lips glances toward us with her purple eyebrows arched.

Roman grabs my upper arms, whirling me into a nook with a statue of a nymph sprouting real flowers around her feet and in her hair. One of her elbows pokes me in the back.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t you want Willow to win?”

His mouth opens and shuts in a way that makes me believe he doesn’t know the answer. His hands tighten on my arms, but not hard enough to hurt.

My own hand still grips his sleeve. To anyone passing by, it might look like lovers sneaking a moment.

Our little nook suddenly feels too hot.

His eyes dart all over my face like he can find his answer there.

And then he lets me go, spinning fast enough to snap his arm out of my grip.

He stalks down the hallway and out of sight without looking back.

I lean against the wall of the nook for a moment. The nymph’s seductive smile looks outward at the passing magicians. Reaching down, I pluck a white, pink-veined flower from her feet. It grows back the second I snap the stem.

I sigh and step back out into the hall.

Xander leans against the wall on the other side, only ten feet away from where Roman and I just stood.

I flinch like I’ve done something wrong.

His eyes narrow on the flower in my hand and then shoot to my face.

“It’s not—” I start.

He turns and walks away in the opposite direction of Roman, leaving me alone with a flower that’s already wilting from being cut off from its magic.

I find Xander back in the performance hall. Nadine’s on the stage, shaking a black curtain up over her head. When the curtain drops, a peacock stands in her place. It fans its glorious plumage as I spot Xander’s green hair and push my way to the front to slide up beside him.

“It’s not what it looked like.”

His eyes never leave the stage. The peacock disappears in an explosion of blue-green feathers. Nadine reappears from behind one of several colored curtains decorating the stage. The silver jumpsuit she wore a minute ago is now a deep blue dress accented with peacock feathers dropping from the waist.

“Xander.”

His eyes slide toward me and away.

“Talk to me.”