Page 11 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Azrael

Hidden in the veil of darkness, I watch the Ringmaster, waiting for my cue to enter the ring.

Slow, steady breaths ground me in the moment.

But beneath my calm facade, a myriad of chaos is building.

The effects of soul-sucking are often difficult to control after consumption.

My senses overwhelm me—there’s no tamping it down, not when the energy is begging to burst free.

I clench my jaw, fighting it back for a few more minutes.

Each second I resist the temptation for it to consume me is a testament to the strength of my power.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time to feast your eyes on the lion tamer,” the Ringmaster finally says, tipping his hat at me.

My restraint slips as I emerge from the shadows.

The lights dim, and the beast inside me takes control.

My eyes scan the ring for my mark, while ebony-streaked, misty shadows conceal my every move.

Underneath the big top, the air crackles full of anticipation.

The pounding of racing heartbeats from the crowd is all I can hear, thundering in my ears.

Taking my place, I plant my feet shoulder-width apart and roll my shoulders back.

I’m the model of perfect posture, standing tall, almost regal.

My body naturally shifts into a classic showman’s pose: leaning forward, hands on the baton, ready to engage the audience as soon as the spotlight lands.

My chin tilts down to touch my chest for an even more dramatic greeting.

All the while, I’m counting in my head. I know once I reach one hundred, the spotlight will flood the center of the ring.

Hushed whispers travel through the darkness as the lights come on and my shadows disappear into one long duplication of myself.

One. Two. Three. Four.

On the fifth beat, the spotlight flickers—then locks in place. Right on cue, my head snaps up and my lips pull back to reveal a dazzling smile. A deafening roar of cheers and applause echoes beneath the big top.

Feeding off the energy, my fingers twitch with a hunger I barely suppress.

I raise my arms overhead, baton in my fist, and stomp my feet to the music.

The crowd cheers louder. My smile widens.

I turn in a circle, waving to the sea of faces staring back at me.

A second spotlight flashes to life, my cue to introduce Marblas.

The beam sweeps across the tent, revealing small glances everywhere but the cage, as the audience hums, full of anticipation.

Once I reach the cage, the light casts shadows while illuminating a small portion of the thick metal bars.

Inside, Marblas paces back and forth, each footstep causing the wooden wheels beneath the cage to groan in protest. Nestled in the shadows, the giant white lion chuffs and growls.

The crowd gasps in terror at the sounds he makes.

But I know he’s only playing his part. I can hear the slapping of his tail as he flicks it in enjoyment, relishing in toying with the humans.

A dangerous energy emanates from the enchanted beast. Any second now, an offstage handler will unlatch the cage, and I’ll command Marblas to my side.

The tent is steeped in silence, so thick I hear the lock slide open.

A roar so loud my shadows feel the vibrations bellow out of Marblas as he lands on the ground in front of his cage.

The spotlight follows his every move as he works through the choreography.

He stalks around the ring until he positions himself behind my back, like a king assessing his subject.

His presence grates against my senses in warning.

He chuffs behind me—a signal to duck. I drop low just as Marblas leaps over me, landing with a soft thud and roaring right at the crowd.

His demeanor is menacing as I command him to my side.

He tosses his head around in protest but relents, meandering over and plopping himself down obediently at my feet.

I toss him a chunk of raw meat as a reward.

While Marblas chews, I flash a gleaming white smile at the crowd, and they go wild. I scan the crowd of faces for Mercy. Every woman in attendance stares back at me, entranced by the soul-siphoning charm radiating from my magic, casting a spell over the audience that only I can control.

I turn to finally acknowledge the giant white lion and offer him a nod.

Perfectly on cue, he tosses his mane from side to side, flicks his tail, and glares at the audience.

This time, when Marblas roars, it’s amplified by my shadows carrying the sound throughout the arena.

His roar is loud enough to shake the canvas.

The audience stares at the beast, wide-eyed and speechless.

Whispering a command only Marblas can hear, I direct him to a podium where another spotlight shines, illuminating it for the crowd.

He strolls obediently to the podium, steps up, circles once, then drops onto his haunches.

He shakes his mane and chuffs, setting his gaze to stare me down.

His tail flicks at his side, telling me he’s in a feisty mood, which means he’s putting on a show-stopping performance tonight.

Shaking my head, I flash him a knowing grin and toss him a scrap of raw meat.

He catches it with a snap of his powerful jaws midair, and the crowd explodes in applause. Marblas simply winks at me.

While the crowd is still distracted watching me, the crew set up a series of hoops.

They vary in height but share the same wide circumference—just large enough for a full-grown lion.

I make my way toward them, then toss my hands to the side, indicating Marblas should jump through the ring.

He stomps his feet in protest. I fix my gaze on him once again, speaking low so only he can hear the command.

Then, with a grin, I tip my hat and flick it from my head, rolling it down my arm and catching it in one smooth motion.

On cue, the majestic beast springs to life, bolting for the hoops.

Every muscle in his body coils, propelling him effortlessly through the lowest of the three rings.

He clears it with ease, landing smoothly on the other side.

The crowd cheers. Directing him back to his mark on the podium, I toss him another chunk of raw meat.

He chomps it down, eating up the attention.

When he finishes, I throw my hands toward the next tallest hoop.

Once again, Marblas refuses—baring his teeth and swishing his tail feistily.

This time, I approach the podium, staring him down with each step I take.

With an explosive surge of muscle and power, the enormous cat bolts forward, leaping through the ring, then turns to face off with me after landing on the opposite side.

At the raise of my hand above my head, he bolts, launching through the lowest ring before returning to the podium.

The audience leaps to their feet, cheering and applauding.

“We have them eating right out of our hands, buddy,” I say in a low voice as I scratch Marblas behind the ear. He leans into it, enjoying the show of affection. Through our bond, I can tell he’s feeding off the electrical atmosphere just as much as I am.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The big top is once again flooded in darkness.

But I see everything as the Ringmaster jogs to his spot at the center of the ring.

He gives a quick wave—his signal that he’s in place.

The spotlight comes on, flooding over him.

In one hand, he holds a blazing torch. He lifts it high above his head, and once again, the audience explodes.

The Ringmaster lowers the torch, extending it to me in a sinister offering.

I clear the space between us, pluck the torch from his hand, and spin—throwing my arms out wide as I ignite the first ring.

It blazes to life in a whoosh of fire and smoke.

Moving carefully, I light the remaining rings, watching as the flames lick around the metal surging to life.

On the podium, Marblas opens his jaws wide and yawns, revealing his sharp, dangerous teeth.

This time, it’s me who offers the lion a dramatic wink.

There’s a shift in the air as the women in the crowd swoon, hearts racing with excitement.

The only warning I get before the lion launches is a twitch of his shoulder muscle.

It happens instantaneously. Then, in a blur of fur, he flies through the flames, unscathed.

He pounces toward the crowd, stopping just short of the edge of the ring.

The audience gasps in a wave of collective panic.

I toss him another piece of meat. He catches it, chewing as he paces across the center of the ring, tail swooshing back and forth.

The fire continues to blaze around the other two rings.

I point to the second, and Marblas tosses his head in protest before raking his paw across the dirt ground and barrelling through it.

The crowd screams and cheers, clapping for him.

Marblas turns and roars. The Ringmaster pulls the freshly extinguished ring to stand in front of the taller one and reignites it with a fresh torch.

Silence falls over the audience once more as they hold their breath in anticipation.

Marblas takes his mark, waiting for my cue.

I step behind the tallest ring, raising my hand to the flame—but it’s not the fire I intend to touch.

My shadows slip forward, unseen, ready to smother the flame the instant before Marblas flies through.

I hold up the meat, dangling it in the air, and his final jump begins.

The crowd hangs on every movement as it passes, and just when it looks like Marblas might land on top of me, the lights go out.

I step to the side, drop the meat to the ground, and spin to pat my old friend on the back before leading him back to the waiting cage.

A spotlight blinks to life just in time to catch Marblas mid-leap as he vanishes into his cage.

The audience roars louder than he ever could, rising to their feet as the white lion turns once and flicks his tail like a king retiring from battle.

I step into the center of the ring, sweep my hat from my head, and take a low bow.

As I rise, my eyes finally find Mercy. I zero in on her, unaware, uncaring if she returns my gaze.

I only want to run to her. To pull her into my arms, holding her tight and promising to figure out a way to end this suffering for her.

She’s mine, even if the Ringmaster doesn’t realize it.

I know it in my bones—an unspeakable truth the universe isn’t ready to let loose.

She smiles and claps, carelessly delighting in the show…

unaware of the pain her presence shoots through my heart, shattering it into thousands of pieces.

All too soon, the ring goes dark, and I’m forced to melt into the shadows.

The woman who rides the elephant is poised to enter as I fade away into the background.

My act is over. My presence is no longer needed.

The Ringmaster will conclude the show, and soon the audience will disperse for the evening—some to the carnival, others home to dream of the circus.

I’m resolute in my decision to find Mercy.

Slipping into the audience, I move toward where I last saw her, hoping to catch her before she disappears.

There’s a buzz in the air, and something else—an unfamiliar flicker of magic tugging at me, as if I’m not meant to reach her.

I suppress the forbidding dread hanging over the tent like a bad omen, refusing to heed whatever strange magic seeks to hold me back.

I push forward, weaving through the audience as the Ringmaster delivers his farewell.