“I don’t have anything to say, but it seems you do.” He crosses his arms over his chest. On the stage, Nadine shimmies her black cloth over her head again.

“Roman and I are just… friends.” I hesitate to say the word “friends,” but not for the reason Xander must be thinking.

Xander just nods toward the stage. “You should be watching this.”

Nadine pulls the curtain over her head and drops it, disappearing and leaving behind a swarm of monarch butterflies. They drift out over the audience, staying just out of reach of wandering hands.

Beautiful. In a different moment, I would be enthralled.

“I’ve seen disappearing acts before.” Not with butterflies, but they don’t matter.

“No. She is the butterflies. She’s transforming her body into something else entirely.” His voice is soft, awestruck. “Not many magicians can change themselves into even one animal, let alone a mass of them. And never apprentices.”

A bit of bitterness turns my mouth sour. Nadine doesn’t really want this, but she’s still better than me. I have ulterior motives too, but I also want this life. I try to shove my jealousy aside as the butterflies trail back to the stage. It won’t help me win.

He finally looks at me, one side of his mouth twisted downward. “So you and Roman are ‘friends,’ are you? I thought you were just learning from him, taking advantage of him. Are you with this family or not? Because he can never be a part of it.”

The butterflies swarm together, slowly shifting from a blob to a human outline. Then, just as they finish taking shape, they disintegrate, raining down like ash. In their wake, Nadine stands in a glorious orange gown, the skirts printed with a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

I burst into applause without thinking, and then stop. Nadine doesn’t want this. I don’t need to feel guilty about not clapping.

Xander doesn’t clap as Nadine bows and leaves the stage.

“She outdid me,” Willow says.

I don’t know how long she’s been standing on the other side of me. Her usually sparkling eyes are muted.

“You were beautiful.”

“Of course I was, but she was marvelous.” She gives me a faint smile. “Let’s hope Ethan sucks.” She winks.

“That’s a given.”

A few stagehands clear the stage, and Ethan lopes up the steps. We get no time between performances, and I’m next.

“I’m going to need a volunteer,” Ethan announces, strutting back and forth on the stage in an entirely white suit. The white has a sense of flashiness to it—the wicked dressed in snow. He doesn’t pull it off.

I jolt when I realize he’s stopped in front of me. His eyes narrow. “Ava.”

I wish, not for the first time, that he didn’t know my name.

Xander’s fingers wrap around my own. “Say no,” he murmurs softly.