Willow finally turns toward me. She eyes my light, just higher than hers, and shakes her head, her expression warring between jealousy and love. She places a palm against the glass as her light turns a garish red-brown, swirling now in a rapid, growing cloud and climbing to her neck in an instant. Her mouth opens to shout something or to scream, and the smoke consumes whatever it was. The last thing I see is her brown eyes wide with fear. I slam my hand against the glass again and again. My own scream rattles in my cage, drowning the dull roar of the entertained bastards I performed for.

And then everything is gone—the liquid lights, the red, Willow.

I sink to my knees and choke back a sob.

My bloody handprints float eerily above me, almost as if they’re reaching down to smother me instead of trying to escape.

They wink away just before I panic. The barrier disappears, and I spill over the edge.

I get to my feet in an instant. “Where is she?” I snarl to no one at first, but as I spin around like a cornered cat, I stop in front of him. The father who thought about letting me die.

“Relax, my dear. She’s only gone from our world, not yours. You won’t remember her, of course, but maybe fate will bring you together again when you get back.”

When you get back. The words are a slap. He’ll call me daughter, but only in private, because he doesn’t believe in me. Nobody’s placing bets on me. My hands clench, and then I relax them. Why would I want to stay here anyway? What good is all the power I’m fighting for if I don’t give a shit about the people around me? I care about Roman, but I can’t imagine an eternity here, looking at the people who betrayed me.

I want out.

I give Lucius a slow, accepting bow of my head and stumble away. People—or rather, magicians—clear a path for me. Most of them don’t have enough humanity to be called people. Roman starts toward me, but I shake my head. He’s the one thing that might stop me.

Nadine catches me in the hallway. Her eyes are damp, but there’s a hardness behind her unshed tears. “I don’t think she went home.”

“There’s only one way to know for sure. I have to get out before they wipe my memory.”

Her eyebrows go up.

“There’s nothing for me here. I found out… my troupe’s been lying to me. Everyone here is a liar.”

“You got your answers, then.” She waits to see if I’ll explain.