The woman had, in fact, been severed like a felled tree trunk. All her limbs, as well as her neck, were chopped with manic precision—a bloodless upper thigh rolling off the board and settling at the feet of the patrons in the front row, causing a delicate lady to scream and then faint. Back on the wheel, the woman didn’t bleed, but rather seemed to separate, her severed head resting at an odd angle with her eyes open.

Lara felt the room spin. Shit, she was going to faint again.

The thrower, upon securing her thigh back in its place, spun the wheel, letting it come to a halt on its own. He then turned his back to the woman and put his hand to his chin, like he was waiting for something to happen. Only then did the woman step off the platform entirely whole to take a deep bow.

The ringmaster entered the ring, his hand sweeping proudly toward the performers. “Louis et Marie.”

The delighted audience roared and jumped to their feet, the sound of their shoes hitting the stands like thunder echoing through the big top.

Lara looked around the arena, horrified. Guests were gripped, staring at the spectacle, pointing and laughing.

Next came a group of synchronized tumblers dressed in aqua-and-gold leotards and pink-and-gold leotards, all striped the same pattern with gold beading.

Through the tumblers came a white horse. The animal was magnificent with a flowing white mane. On the horse’s head was a plume of aqua feathers. From the description in the journal, Lara knew it could only be His Majesty.

Doing a backbend on the horse with her shins on His Majesty’s neck and her hands on the saddle was Margot Cabot of Le Cirque Margot. The entire floor of the circus turned into flames and His Majesty continued his steady gallop as Margot lifted her legs into a graceful handstand and then dipped under the horse, into the roaring flames. Both rider and horse seemed unfazed, but Lara could feel the heat rising from the floor. Like a graceful ballerina, Margot hung off the animal with one leg while swinging her other, then stood up on His Majesty’s back on one leg as he simultaneously leapt in the air. Finally, the flames engulfed both horse and rider until the pair broke through a wall of fire, completely unharmed. The horse made a bow of sorts as Margot jumped off his back to curtsy.

In a flash, the flames were gone and Althacazur was back announcing the next act—the Dance of Death. Twelve androgynous clowns began to waltz, their elaborately beaded costumes a muted color of blush and their hair white. They looked ghostly, but the dance was beautiful. Three elephants made their way onstage and lifted the clowns onto their backs in perfect unison. From the ceiling emerged three Spanish Webs.