The big top stood tall by the time I returned, secured by a myriad of ropes, its highest flag sailing among the clouds. I wasn't technically late, but as I ducked under the entrance flap, it became clear that I'd kept Silver waiting—and that was a crime in itself.

"Corey!"

She was pacing back and forth in the center of the ring, with the trapeze equipment in place and dangling above her. When I caught her eye, her expression relaxed and contorted all at once, leaving me wondering what exactly to brace myself for.

"You're here!" she exclaimed as I came closer. Her cheeks were flushed and her dark pixie cut was mussed, like she'd been running her hands through it all morning. It still managed to look good, though; Silver always carried off her signature style with a sense of edgy elegance that nobody else could nail. "Jesus, I was wondering if you were even going to show this afternoon."

"Sorry. I, uh . . ." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "I got caught up."

"Well. You're here now, and I guess that's what matters. We're down for first practice, and Rhona's been giving me filthy looks for the last half hour. I've wanted to scream at her. I can't make you appear out of thin air, can I? I'm a trapeze artist, not a magician."

I looked up at the stalls, following the direction of Silver's subtle nod at the mention of Rhona's name. Sure enough, she was in one of the middle rows, surrounded by her permanent entourage of her four co-performers. The aerial silk girls were the only group who tended to stick within their private gaggle, separating themselves from the rest of the crew. Rhona, the lead, was the worst of them all. Petite, blond, and three years younger than Silver, she was only capable of conversation that ended with bickering.

"Anyway, whatever. We've got fifteen minutes until their slot, and I'm not about to waste it."

Silver gestured toward the center trapeze, hanging empty above the ring. "I want you to get on center and show me the lead routine." I froze. This wasn't what I'd been expecting—at least, not today. Our group was a trio, composed of a lead and two backups. I formed one half of the latter, alongside the third member, Kendra. There had always been three. Not just since my trapeze skills were deemed performance ready—even in my earliest memories, when I'd been nothing more than an awestruck little girl content to stand at the side of the ring for hours so I could watch the trapeze artists, there had been three performers. Over the last three years, I'd grown used to the dazzling spotlights and sweaty palms of performance, but never as the lead.

It had always been there: the unspoken agreement that I'd one day take over, stepping into Silver's shoes. But it had never been more than a distant thought, a speck on the horizon. Now that it was happening, it seemed much too soon.

"What about Kendra?" I asked, scanning the ring for the familiar bottle-blond curls of my partner. "Aren't we going to wait for her, or . . . ?"

"Kendra rehearsed earlier." Silver's dismissal was quick, emphasized by a wave of her hand. "I need to know that you can do the routine. Which you can, obviously. I just want to see how it's looking."

I took a deep breath. "Uh, okay."

It was strange that after a three-year alternating cycle of rehearsal and performance I chose now to be nervous. Sure, there was the common case of jitters that swept through the entire cast before an opening night, but that was easily remedied by the glare of a spotlight and a round of applause. The audience I now faced, though a fraction of the usual crowd, was still intimidating in its own right. Perhaps it was Rhona and her cronies, looking on with disdain, or merely the fact that Silver seemed to be on the brink of a decision, and the performance I was about to give would tip her one way or the other.

I tried to calm myself down as I approached the trapeze. At the very least, it was familiar, which was my main focus as I settled my buzzing nerves. How many times had my hands encircled these same pieces of wood and rope? If it was enough times to toughen their layers of skin, easing the discomfort as I gripped them with all my strength, then surely I could put my trust into them one more time.

I kicked off my shoes and tossed them aside. A hair tie around my wrist quickly slicked my dull brown hair into a ponytail, sweep- ing the flyaway strands from my face. The trapeze had already been lowered to the ground and was waiting for me. One deep breath, and I took a running leap at it, launching myself so my palms encircled the bar and my feet swung up to join them. Once I got started, there was no going back.

The eyes in the tent followed me as I dived headfirst into the routine, running through the musical accompaniment in my mind. I tried to channel Silver's confidence as I sat sideways on the wooden bar, my left arm twisted intricately around the rope. It was from that position that it all started, the routine I'd seen hundreds of times from behind, pieced together from fleeting glances caught when my head was the right way up.

I coiled myself around the supports, stretching out my entire body and using the trapeze as a makeshift harness. The feeling had taken some getting used to, but now I embraced it: being completely suspended in midair, supported by nothing more than a flimsy piece of equipment.

Once I got started, the movements arrived more fluidly, allowing me to transition from the first suspended trick to the second and those beyond. Silver's image remained vivid in my head as I pulled myself into an upright position, my feet curling around the rounded bar, and bent forward into a seemingly impossible version of a leg extension.

Toes pointed, chin up . . . there was barely time to remember these pointers as I leapt from one move to the next, matching the imaginary rhythm pulsing inside my head. Silver's eyes were trained on every movement, analyzing the position of my muscles, the way I held my head, the concentrated expression on my face. I pulled myself back into the seat of the trapeze, but there was no time to pause; extracting every shred of exertion from my upper body, I heaved my weight upward, forcing my legs straight into the air for one terrifying moment. Then, they fell back as quickly as they'd risen, spinning me around with impossible speed.

I could feel a breeze on my face, caressing my skin, which had already become sticky with a layer of sweat. I was exhausted, and yet the physical reality had a peculiar way of fading into the back- ground. In moments like these, trapeze was the only thing that mattered, and I didn't want it any other way.

The big finale was fast approaching, and it was a circus requirement to go out with a bang. Swinging myself back underneath the bar, arms stretched above me, I gathered all the momentum possible. There was no room for mistakes. Squeezing the last of the energy from my muscles, I propelled myself forward, folding into a tight somersault before landing feet first on the mat.

I froze like a statue in the end position, the trapeze swinging behind me.

There was no applause. Instead, when I turned around, I was faced with the smile that had materialized across the width of Silver's face—which turned out to be a lot more satisfying.

"That," she said, "is what I wanted to see."

The raw pride on her face coaxed out my breathless grin; the misty eyes and the heartwarming smile I hadn't seen since the day she got engaged to Jack, Mystique's technical director. I didn't know what to say.

My eyes flickered toward Rhona for a moment, noticing that she was looking on with an expression of poorly concealed jealousy. Even from the center of the ring, I could see her catlike eyes were narrowed, and she clearly wasn't happy.

"Well, that makes it easy for me, doesn't it?" Silver continued, stepping closer. "You're on lead trapeze tonight. And do me a favor: please kill it like you did just then."

"Wait, are you—" Confusion cut my sentence short, and I had to find another. "I mean, are you sure? I wasn't expecting it to be so soon. I mean, I only just—"

She clapped a hand on my shoulder. "It was going to happen sometime, right? You were always in the running to take over. I'm going to be retiring soon, anyway—twenty-four's pretty much elderly, isn't it? Now that I'm pregnant, things are just going to be happening a little sooner."

"I—" There was a second's delay before her words hit me. "Wait, did you just say you're pregnant?"

Silver smiled and nodded. "Just found out last week. Guess you're going to become the star of the show sooner than you thought, huh?"

The news caught me off guard, and when combined with my ragged breathing, it was a wonder I was able to get any words out. "I don't know what to say. Well, first off, congratulations."

I guessed she was about to thank me, but she never got there— the moment was interrupted by an exaggerated throat clearing from across the room. "Excuse me," Rhona hollered, rising from her seat. "I think you'll find that your practice time is over. It's our turn now."

Usually, I had to brace myself for an argument any time Rhona and Silver were in the same room, but Silver just smiled. "It's all yours," she said sweetly. "After that, I'm pretty confident we don't even need the practice."

If Rhona wanted to retaliate, she wasn't given the chance. Silver had already turned back to me. "I'll see you backstage usual time, okay?" Her gaze flickered toward the stalls, in the opposite direction from Rhona. "For now, I think Dave might be after your attention."

Dave. The name sent a jolt through my chest. He was as familiar as the circus itself, his scruffy appearance and muddy-brown eyes as easily memorized as one of my trapeze routines. At nineteen, he was the only guy in the circus near my age. And for that reason alone, there was an unspoken agreement—from everyone—that we'd get together eventually. If nothing else, the pressure on all sides was sure to force us together.

While Dave seemed to have no issue with this arrangement, I differed. A childhood spent together meant he'd become like an older brother: someone I always had fun with but could never in a million years visualize myself dating.

However, this was the circus, and options were severely limited. With no permanent location, we packed up our belongings and left without a trace every couple of weeks. Outside relationships were impossible. Life on the road meant exactly that, and it wasn't to be complicated by tethers to anything—or anybody—outside the circus. Only a chosen few could hack that kind of life, and we were among them.

Despite my feelings, the decision was already made for me. With the circus came Dave, and if I wanted one, I'd have to settle for the other.

Silver had already taken off in the opposite direction, though not before shooting me a surreptitious wink. Now, alone in the ring, I was the only thing separating Rhona from her precious practice time, so there was nothing left for me to do but start toward Dave. He was slouched on one of the seats in the front row, having adopted his trademark carefree stance, the sleeves of his T-shirt straining over his muscles. A familiar smile curled his lips as his eyes followed me.

It wasn't that I didn't enjoy his company, but with each day, the wordless pressure seemed to swell, like I could feel the whole crew looking on and wondering why we weren't together yet. As kids, it used to be funny, but nowadays the knowing smirks and air of impatience had drained the sweet simplicity from our relationship.

"You looked great out there," he said when I stepped into earshot, approaching the barrier at the edge of the ring.

"Thanks," I said honestly. I reached up to run my hand through my hair, but stopped short when I remembered it was still in the tight ponytail I'd pulled it into ten minutes before. "I, uh . . . didn't know you were watching."

"Yeah, of course I was. After I finished setting out your equipment, I couldn't resist sticking around to watch you practice. You were crazy good."

"It was okay," I dismissed him lightly. "I could've pulled off the somersault a lot better, but at least I landed on my feet and didn't break anything."

He chuckled. "Well, not breaking anything's always a good result."

I peered up at him, not really knowing what to say. I couldn't count the number of times I'd found myself looking at his face. His strong jaw had been prominent even as a boy, while the rest of his features had an almost lopsided quality about them. This was particularly true for his smile, which had always been sort of goofy—but in a familiar rather than a cute way.

I wished there was some way I could force myself to feel differently about Dave, but it wasn't going to happen. And though I didn't know how this would bode for the future, I'd taken to pushing it to the back of mind, resolving to deal with it only when absolutely necessary.

Dave seemed to have leaned in slightly closer, and I wondered how this had escaped my notice. "I never get tired of watching you perform," he said. "You really are an amazing trapeze artist, Corey." The tone of his voice made my heart pound. I dreaded these moments, when I was sure he was about to make a move. I didn't want to be thrust into a position where I'd have to turn him down, because that was sure to make things unbearably awkward for both of us.

"I'm, uh . . . not really that good," I said quickly, breaking eye contact. "I mean, I'm okay. Nothing special."

Thankfully, he appeared to sense the moment had passed, although the flicker of disappointment in his eyes didn't go unnoticed. "Well, you've got more talent than me, anyway. The circus only needs me for my muscle." He grinned and flexed, and all at once the tension shattered. My laughter was full of relief.

It was true. Dave formed part of Mystique's backstage crew, and there were at least twenty of them, all burly men with huge muscles and at least one tattoo. Dave was no exception, although his ink was limited to a single spiky design on his shoulder, which was tame by comparison. Even between the setting up and dismantling of the circus tent, they were endlessly busy, forever checking or changing equipment, or carrying heavy loads across the pitch. Dave had been born into the circus and had been recruited as soon as he was old enough to work alongside his dad. If only my own story was so simple.

"Hey, do you want to hang out tonight?" he asked. "I'm think- ing late-night pizza after the show, if you're up for it."

It sounded good, the same way any other plan with Dave did— especially if it involved pizza. Tonight we'd be riding that post-show high, and I couldn't think of anything better than stuffing my mouth with pizza so greasy it would make Silver scream in horror, and laughing with Dave until our stomachs hurt.

But I still couldn't stop my thoughts from backtracking to the boy from the diner. I wasn't sure why my mind chose now to dwell on his effortlessly charming smile, his genuine interest in circus life, the way his appearance had drifted perilously close to perfection. We'd clicked, plain and simple, and I couldn't deny the easy connection that had been quickly established between us. It was worlds away from what I had with Dave.

For any other girl with a normal life, I knew what a conversation like that would mark the start of. It was the beginning of something with the potential to blossom. But the bottom line was I wasn't a normal girl, and the life I pursued came with its consequences.

Luke could never be more than one flirty conversation—a charming stranger, someone I'd turn my back on forever in just two weeks. So why was I thinking about him in the middle of a conversation with Dave?

That was when I realized I'd slipped into a daydream without answering Dave's original question. "I, um . . ." I pushed Luke's image into a dark corner of my mind and smiled. "Yeah, sure. Pizza sounds great."

"Cool. I'll catch up with you later, okay? I'll be in the crowd, watching you kill it on that trapeze."

"I'll do my best."

He grinned. "Well, it's not like you need it, but I'll say it anyway: good luck tonight."

There they were again—the same words, identical to those that had escaped Luke's lips not long before. In that moment, before Dave shot me a last goofy smile and turned to leave the tent, they were harmless. Luke's were too. But only in that moment.

They became ominous only when the night started to go terribly, terribly wrong.