“The audience gives you magic?” I ask. It’s actually easy to believe when I think about the way I felt onstage with Xander, when the audience was enthralled and half believing he had real magic. It felt like I did too. It felt like I could do anything at all.

“Yes and no. The audience feeds the magic already in us. Magicians stuck together even back then, so they started experimenting. They found that more than one of them could move the ball only with their minds, but the conditions had to be right. They needed an audience to watch. Though now we’ve realized it’s more than the watching; it’s the believing. The magic’s strongest when your audience believes your tricks are real, and then you can make them real. Not everyone could do it, though. The ones who could do real magic described the feeling of being in front of an audience as a bubbling or humming in their blood. They passed it off as adrenaline, but it was something much more.” Xander pauses, and his eyes focus in on me, waiting.

Bubbling blood. I know that feeling. I passed it off as the rush of being onstage.

Mom knew the feeling too. Craved it.

“I’m one of you,” I say.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aristelle says. “You’re not one of us until you’re one of us. You’ve got magic in your blood, but that doesn’t make you special. Everyone does.”

I turn to Xander like I’m expecting him to rebut her and tell me I am special, but then I feel a little silly about it.

Xander sees my look. “We think everyone has a little bit of power in them, but for most people, it’s so insignificant that they’ll never feel it, and for those who feel it, they explain it as something else. Very few people have enough of it to use it.”

“But you think I do.” I narrow my eyes at Aristelle before shifting my stare to Xander. “You were talking about me before I sent the birds flying.” It was either me or the girl in gold, and technically he directed that invitation backstage to me. “You told me to come back after the first show. Did you already know who I was?”

“Aren’t you a sneaky little rat,” Aristelle says.

“You clearly want something from me, so I’d rethink insulting me.”

Aristelle looks like she’s choking on her tongue. Xander chuckles, but his eyes stay locked on mine like he’s trying to read me.

“You knew my name,” I press. “Did you already know who I was?” My skin prickles. I’m starting to feel like this was a trap set just for me. If they already know who my parents are, then maybe it was.

“I told you that you gave me your name. I didn’t use any manipulation on you.”