I stand on the stage in front of the same group of people who cheered for my blood the day before yesterday, but I’m not worried about them. They’re almost a pleasant distraction from Lucius, who sits in the middle of the crowd on a raised gold platform. I focus on his chair instead of him, but that’s a mistake. The chair’s legs are made of thick icicles, the kind you might see on the ceilings of frozen-over caves. The thin points of them dig into the ground. The back of the chair is a fan of icicles with the sharp ends pointing outward. The part that bothers me is what’s trapped inside each one: a rose that hasn’t blossomed.

Of course I think of Mom. She loved roses.

My hands shake as I pretend to adjust my knives, but I can’t stop fixating on those roses. Is it some kind of message? Does he know I’m the daughter of the woman who left him? Xander doesn’t. My troupe doesn’t. All they know is that I had a magician mother who knew Lucius. But Lucius was going to let me bleed out. Xander said that Lucius was blocking him from healing me. Maybe he blocked me, too. I couldn’t feel my magic, but that could also just have been my own weakness. I don’t know.

I force myself to look at his face. His eyes are cool and distant, but when he notices my stare, they become sharp and critical, like he’s inspecting me for cracks. I turn my expression to ice and glare back.

He smiles. He knows. I can feel it, but I won’t be certain until I confront him.

My palms sweat at the thought, but I need to focus. There’s a family watching from the audience that wants me to do well so I can stay with them. They want me.

I turn my attention back to where I am. Willow and Nadine, dressed in matching black skintight outfits, flank me. I wear dove-gray pants and a short-sleeve black T-shirt. The pants make the black knives attached to my ankles stand out. Everything is about standing out, making the small details unforgettable. I even let Diantha and Reina rim my eyes in darkness and paint my lips in plum.

I dip into a slight bow to Lucius, then rise to address the audience. “Don’t get too excited. I’m not going to stab them.” A few of them have the gall to look disappointed. Most laugh, though, giving me what I want.

I turn my attention to slightly above their heads, so it seems like I see them but don’t. Xander’s trick.