By the time Revan came outside searching for Zara, Emran had been gone for a good five minutes. In that time, Zara’s attempts at fixing the wrapping of her dress was proving futile. Many times, the cloth slipped down to reveal her full chest, but she was too dizzy to really give it much thought.

“What in the fucking devil is it that you are doing, woman?” Revan grounded out, marching toward her.

Holding the cloth up to her chest, she could only whimper, leaning against the wall. When she saw the fury on his face, an urge to smile made her lips quirk. Revan’s eyes trailed down her sloppily-garbed figure to the pipe Emran had left strewn on the dirt near her feet.

The next thing Zara knew, her cheek was smacked red. She cried out, the tiny smirk having effectively been swiped off her.

“Oh my…” a woman’s soft voice whispered.

A couple of young women had come around the corner of the stage, holding hands. They were guests, and they seemed drunk. Zara had not even heard them approaching.

“A lover’s quarrel, likely,” the other woman spoke.

“The whore’s obviously pissed him off. Best not interrupt.”

They left the way they came, and Zara wanted to plead with them to stay. Revan’s vexation was quite unbearable to her already blooming headache. She wasn’t sure he could keep his temper in check if they were left alone, and it was clear he wanted to hit her again, but was refraining to.

“What do you think you are doing?” he said firmly. “I told you not to take anything.”

“Y-You told me not to drink,” she mumbled. “I didn’t. I just…took one tiny whiff off Emran’s pipe.”

“You shouldn’t have done that either.”

“…Will I die?”

His breath came out long and annoyed. “No. You are lucky it was not alcohol. It would not have interacted well with the potion I gave you. This is not good for you either, but if it was truly just a tiny whiff then it will wear off soon. Are you unwell?”

“I…think so. I’m starting to feel that way.”

He yanked her ear hard. “Good!”

“Ow!”

“You once so strongly expressed that you’d never touch these things. Now look at you. One puff and you’re on the wall. You deserve it. For your own stupid hypocrisy.” He let her go. “Where is Emran?” He looked around, then his brow rose up in realization. “You’re making him do something.”

“I’m not making him. I simply suggested it—”

Revan forcefully lifted Zara’s clothes and haphazardly arranged them around her to be more modest. He then pulled her, roughly by her hair, back inside the building.

“I know,” he said in a patronizing tone. “You’ve been playing around with your special magic all day haven’t you?”

Zara whined at the pain the hair-pulling was causing her skull. Thankfully the main room had emptied out and there was no one nearby to see or hear this.

“Have you resorted to wanton degeneracy then? The very degeneracy that you despise? That plagues much of this city?” he asked as he strode along without a care of her cries. “I understand. An easy option to get any man to do as you please.” Revan turned around, finally letting go of Zara’s hair. He leaned in close to her to whisper. “How did he come into contact with you? Have you let him fuck you already?”

Zara gritted her teeth. “No.”

“…But he’s touched you enough, hasn’t he?”

Her voice went quiet. “A little.”

“What were you thinking?”

“…I’m not sure. I just hate this place. They’ve…it’s a mockery. It’s a mockery of art. Of what I love. And these poor children…I just hate this. And I want it all gone.”

Revan scoffed. “How noble of you.”

“You will never understand, you heartless beast.”

“Oh you don’t believe I understand?” He jerked her hair back again, so her teary face tilted up at him. “You don’t believe I understand this life? A life I’ve lived through, being taken and sold and beaten and used, you don’t think I understand that?”

Zara’s lip trembled stubbornly.

He sneered. “We may share many people’s painful experiences. But we are not one of them. You need to understand that. The sooner you do, the sooner you will be at peace with yourself.”

“What does that mean?” Zara questioned indignantly. “These people…these kids…they don’t matter?”

Revan shook his head. “Do not make the same mistake you’ve made with the boy in Pria. Your sympathy will go to waste. Do not forget the history I’ve been teaching you. It has always been us against them. You may want to aid them as their fellows, but despite it all, they will see no issue in taking your life away. Taking the ones you have loved away. And as your flesh burns and melts off your bone, as the stones and rocks rain down on your head, as your shackled body is chopped to pieces, they will not remember your friendship. They will not remember a single kindness you’ve ever done for them.”

Her heart felt like it was being ripped slowly in different directions, each yank causing a bigger tear in her conscience. He may be right, but a part of her did not want to believe it, even though she should. She was of Revan’s kind. She’d just spoken out of line with him, disregarding all he had experienced, and he’d made her into a fool for it. But it just felt so isolating. Just she and Revan against this world. Against a world where innocents like Yohid and Jiyara were made to suffer. And according to Revan—a man who also experienced similar hardships and terrors at their age—they deserved to suffer.

She didn’t like it; she felt it was wrong. But what could be done about it?

Revan released his grip, moving it to her hand instead.

“Were you this provocative with the Madam’s brother as well?”

The Madam’s brother. That was the twisted familiarity rolling through her the minute she’d laid eyes on Rubi. Of course. Same stature, same eyes, similar cocky tone—though Rubi was more professional about it—and most of all, the same foreboding presence. Zara and Saren had walked right into their domain as soon as they had stepped into the market zone.

That soulless, desolate neighborhood they’d passed before ducking into the alley beyond this stage was for…what, exactly? The paying customers here? Was it designed for the workers to take shelter after their hours were complete? Or was it reserved for something more sinister? The wheels began to turn rapidly in Zara’s muddled brain.

Revan tugged her hand down to bring her attention back to him.

“Were you?” he asked again, firmly.

“No,” Zara denied.

“That is not entirely truthful, is it?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

Revan nodded sardonically. “Right. I saw it…well, bits of it.”

Zara scrunched her face. “Enjoyed the show through your Mirror did you?”

His grip on her hand was like a clamp. “Your eyes, Zara,” he whispered. “Both times. With that man you’ve vanished, and with Emran. I caught a glimpse when I went out to retrieve you just now. They were as crimson as the blood flowing between your legs.”

Ugh. How lewd.

Her humiliation and anger rose quickly.

“Calm. Down,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Okay,” she spit out.

“Zara?” they heard Saren calling. “Zara, where—Oh, there you are! Revan, you are here too.” Her voice and footsteps drew nearer, echoing down the hall that led to the back room. “We are supposed to go on now—Zara! What happened to you?! What happened to your clothes!”

“Your hair is a mess!” Muni shrieked. Zara hadn’t even noticed the other woman was behind Saren until she glanced their way. She was now dressed similarly to them, wrapped in a lavender cloth, though her face paints and jewelry were more subdued. She was a lot prettier made up than not. “Ugh! Were you fucking around with your master over here? Sir, with all due respect, we have a show to get to. Madam would not be pleased with you dirtying up the girl like this under my care. I’ll lose out on my pay!”

Revan’s eyes crinkled with devious amusement. “Apologies,” he said blandly. “I must have gotten carried away.”

Saren rolled her eyes, displeased. “What shit,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

“Now I have to fix her all up again,” Muni complained to Zara. “Your lip stain is all over the fucking place too! I obviously misjudged you, woman. You are not at all new to this kind of work after all. Come, we can’t waste any more time.”

Before Zara left, Revan held her back a second, bringing his lips down to her ear. His whisper was a pleasurable smooth tickle over her heightened senses.

“There is nothing to fear. Remember, you’ve performed on one stage already. Let us see how well you play out on this one.”

The foreign anklets were like shackles on her feet. If Zara knew that this Darhai trip would have led her to a place like this, she would have brought her own anklets. But she felt ready, much more so than the last time she was thrust for a performance she didn’t want to make. This time, she was better prepared, and she had a friend by her side. She squeezed Saren’s hand like a small form of apology, smiled at Jiyara like everything was just fine, and when the thunder of the drums echoed, they marched through the curtains—led on by the capable Muni—and stood in their places.

Zara wished she could be glad they weren’t at the very front near the hooting crowd, but they soon would be when it was their turn to dance. The audience were like obscure dim shapes from where she was standing on the third step of the elevated platform. She glanced at Revan standing by the curtain offstage. He nodded his assurance before leaving. She would let her inner strength and the heat in her core guide her tonight.

Suddenly, Zara’s body convulsed, and for a minute, she fell into a disorienting state.

Sound ceased to exist. All movement had paused. The people around her had blurred. The audience seemed to disappear.

“Re-Revan?!” Zara choked out. “Where are you? What’s happening?”

Breathing rapidly, she turned to see a woman draped in an ornate black cloak. Her dark hair flowed in waves around her, and her face was a sharp beauty. Her eyes, an enchanting hazel, glowed, and she sent Zara a red-lipped smile that quivered her bones.

“It is a pleasure to see you up close, my dear,” the woman spoke in a silky tone, with an accent extremely similar to Revan’s. “My name is Dayana. I will visit you all again, in person next time. Please let Revan know for me.” She smirked. “I imagine he’ll tell you the rest.”

It was like the world literally shook Zara awake. Every sense assaulted her at once, and she almost keeled over from the pain of it.

“What is the matter, you damn girl?” Muni scolded, yanking Zara forward. “You don’t ruin this for me. You hear?”

“Are you okay, Zara?”

Dazed, Zara looked down to her right at Jiyara. There were dozens of other younger boys and girls across the row as well. Zara was shocked that they were already being paraded to the very fucking front. Even though they were near the back before that maddening vision of that mystical woman cloaked her wits. How long had she been out of her mind? Was it because of the drugs from earlier?

No…she wasn’t sure it was. It had worn off like Revan said it would, and she felt fine now. So what the hell was it then?

“I-Yes, I’m okay. I just had a…shock,” she whispered.

Jiya smiled sweetly and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay to be scared. There’s lots of people here. I’m a bit scared too.”

Saren gently moved Jiyara to her other side before taking her place back next to Zara. Her frown only told her to get a move-on as their dance sequence began. As Zara took the first step, it dawned on her that the ever-so-observant Saren had no idea what had just happened.

She felt Revan touch her mind, sending an apprehensive tingle through her body. She twirled and felt immediately dizzy afterwards but there was no time to dwell or fall over. She bounced on her feet, giving her anklets a shake, then twirled again. The crowd whistled and hollered and laughed and clinked their liquor glasses together, and Zara thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Their routine was practically done already. Next, she would simply have to stand to the side while the rest of the scene played out.

That was her only main thought, really, as there was no breathing room to think about anything else. There was too much going on all at the same time while Zara did her best not to trip over herself. Her dance—her passion—was continuing to prove difficult yet again. She wished could just enjoy it and bask in the present. If she ignored every shitty context surrounding this performance and the leering men and women with all the dirty money to throw at it, this could have been nice.

The woman’s foreboding figure slunk into her head again and again, but that was all it was. A memory or strange vision that had only been visible to her, and one she couldn’t talk about until she was alone with Revan again. Could it have been another mage, like she and Revan? Or something greater? Something more akin to Saren’s kind? The woman—Dayana was her name—was a mystery, but it seemed like she was familiar with Revan.

Revan…

She could feel him again.

The air smelled faintly of smoke.

The music bellowed across the platform as Zara and her group twirl in front of the audience one more time, slow and steadily, giving a clear show of the numbers on their backs.

It was right when Zara felt a grab at her ankle—from a wayward audience member who had pressed himself too close to the very front of the stage where she was—that one of the luxury dogs among the crowd snapped away from its owner and launched an attack.

Zara kicked the man who had tried to touch her right in his nose. He wailed angrily and bled, and was soon quickly helped by some servants.

The show, however, had to go on. When the performers faltered at the interruption, Rubi got on stage and ordered them to keep going. The wayward man was dealt with. The dog, along with its begrudging owner and the few people it had injured, had been kicked out of the event. And life on stage continued on as though nothing had happened. They were truly in their own world; a new background was dropped in the back, and some of the set pieces were swiftly changed. The singers went on belting out their song through it all.

While Zara was shaken from the man who had grabbed her, she still found a bit of humor in the situation. She followed Saren off to the side, relieved to be away from the front lines and from lewd eyes. She looked down at herself, checking to see if her dress had slipped too much. Almost none of the people on stage with her were modest, but they weren’t naked either.

Revan was invisible to her, but she could tell he was happy with the result so far. They both figured she had influence over living beings other than people, and Zara had confirmed it once at the beach. The dog was yet another confirmation, the only difference being she was in more control of its actions. It hadn’t been much, certainly not a showstopper—Rubi made sure of that. It was merely like an appetizer. Zara felt rejuvenated. She vaguely wondered what the main course would be.

Now they had to pretend to be servants for the queen. Most of the men had exited the stage, but a few stayed behind, an odd cluster of handsome servants and what looked to be like soldiers. The children had gone, save for Jiyara. Further back were those costumed as angels on the right, and the demons were gathered on the left. Zara had no idea what role they were supposed to play here. If Muni hadn’t bothered to explain it, then perhaps Zara didn’t need to care.

However, she knew Emran was supposed to be a part of this scene. But thanks to Zara, he wasn’t here. The queen character, a sexy lavishly-crowned beauty that had the crowd gazing in awe, stood waiting, trying not to let the confusion show in her perfectly painted expression.

The stench of burning wood was still weak, but Zara worried it would get strong enough for everyone to notice.

“What’s happening?” Saren whispered to her. “Was that your doing before? Where is Revan?”

Zara gave her a short nod and reassuring smile. With Revan’s guidance, she was feeling better. Even her stomach hurt less.

“Don’t worry about him. This is just practice.”

“What are you talking about?” Saren hissed.

“Shhh!” Muni scowled.

The audience fell into a hush when the music slowed, and Jiya hopped up to the front. Zara cringed at just how short the girl’s dress really looked up there. She took her spot next to the “queen”. This scene, according to what Muni had told them, was supposed to be of the heartbroken queen breaking off her affair with her house boy—who was supposed to be played by Emran. He would say goodbye to his daughter—Jiya—and she would sing her song of farewell to the father she could never have.

Jiyara singing with innocent sorrow was sure to get the men in the audience riled up. Just how many have memorized the number on her back?

Zara clenched her jaw, plastering on a fake smile as Jiya was forced to start singing early. She had a lovely voice for someone so young. The lyrics made no sense without Emran present, but there was nothing Rubi could do about it. The woman looked wild with irritation as she continued piecing this play together at the other end of the stage as best she could with one of her important actors missing. Zara bet that if Emran had come, every woman in the mob would be drilling his number into their heads.

Wait, did he have one?

She couldn’t remember. She didn’t think to check his back during their little tryst. But she hadn’t been aware of it when he’d first arrived to speak with her and the others as a group either. Had she even seen his back at all tonight?

What the fuck did it matter. Girls and women would be all over him all the same, number or not, based on his handsome looks alone. He was easy to pick out from a crowd. He also worked closely with Rubi, so anyone better acquainted with her would probably be able to request him easily.

Worse, Muni had said—while she’d been fixing up Zara’s clothes again—that he and the “queen” would share a bit of intimacy. On the fucking stage. They had already brought in a little love seat for them to do it on. Zara didn’t know how she would have handled seeing something like that happening in front of her.

Thank the Hells that he is not here.

And thank the Hells if the fire he is setting spreads fast.

Zara sighed impatiently. She was getting no other signal from Revan yet. Jiyara was almost finished with her song and the queen looked as awkward as ever standing near the love seat by herself.

Saren sniffled with a frown. “What is that smell? It is like a forest is burning.”

The signal came, like a strong trembling wave through her head and neck. She shuddered and her legs almost wobbled.

But she knew what to do. And she would do it whatever way he desired. Zara would prove a hard year’s worth of his lessons had not gone to waste.