Page 12 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Mercy

Blush creeps over my cheeks, heating them.

The intense, tortured gaze Azrael is inflicting on the audience is actually aimed at me.

I try to swallow, but my throat is suddenly dry—gritty with sand.

My eyes dart everywhere but up to meet his stare.

I gulp and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, staring at my feet, all I can do is hope he doesn’t come searching for me after the show.

One sideways glance at my father confirms what I already know: If Azrael finds me, it will be my father’s breaking point.

Entranced by the show, my thoughts drift back to Azrael, replaying his performance.

I picture his muscles flexing beneath his tailored suit jacket, imagining how they might feel wrapped around me.

His act was spectacular, as if he fed off the crowd’s energy and excitement.

His confidence was captivating, and with every blink, I feared missing something extraordinary.

The lights flash on, pulling me from my daydream.

People push and shove, pouring out from beneath the big top, wandering home for the evening.

Children shout, telling one another about their favorite part of the show while parents tug at them.

I look to my mother for guidance, but just over her shoulder, I see him. Azrael is walking right for me.

Go away, I beg silently, willing him to hear me. To turn around. To not ruin everything.

My heartbeat pounds in my chest, but I’m powerless.

I can’t bolt without consequence. I might be an adult, but my father sees me as his property—his to barter or sell.

I shudder at the thought. It’s only a matter of time before he does just that.

I’m trapped, and there’s no escaping this reality.

Everything is going to change for the worse.

Dread settles deep in my bones as I brace myself for whatever happens when my two worlds collide.

I watch in horror as Azrael continues to weave his way through the crowd, slowly inching closer to where I stand with my family.

Goosebumps race over my body at the sight of him this close, caressing my skin in warning.

If only I could get a message to him. If I could warn him that’s not why I’m here.

Inside, something fragile snaps—because I know what’s coming will break me.

We should have discussed this, but he’s so damn elusive it’s impossible to even have a conversation these days.

It’s always gentle touches that leave me craving so much more.

The feel of his skin brushing mine makes my knees weak, my body shuddering, filled with a desire for more than I know he’ll ever allow himself to give me.

I want to scream to release my frustration, but somewhere inside of me, I already know my scream would only drive him closer.

A sultry brunette I recognize from my academy days—back when I traded chores for lessons—steps in front of Azrael, laying a hand on his chest. And to my surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he smiles flirtatiously at her.

My jaw drops open just as my father grabs my hand and yanks me into the sea of people.

Azrael catches my eye as I look back over my shoulder.

I hope he feels every dagger I throw with my stare.

My father tugs me harder, and I slam between bodies, shuffling to the exit.

When I look back again, all I can see is Azrael’s top hat, and the brunette, close behind him.

I sigh, hanging my head in defeat. I don’t know why I’m allowing this to hurt me.

I knew there had to be someone else, and that’s why we could never be more than just friends.

I hate him. I hate him for giving me flowers and showing me kindness.

It’s not fair. Why couldn’t he care for me in that way?

But even with all the venomous anger and heartbreak filling my veins, I still, after all this time, wouldn’t trade our sad song and dance for the cold comfort of having never met him.

The cool air breathes relief across my stinging eyes, snapping me out of my sulking.

We’ve burst free from the chaos beneath the tent.

Behind me, the flaps loom, threatening to swallow me whole, dragging me back into the nightmare I just escaped.

Seeing Azrael smile at her—the way I foolishly thought he only smiled at me—breaks something inside me.

I no longer care if he sees me. All I want to do is go home.

I welcome the aching tug on my arm as we file toward the circus gates, passing the vendors calling out about souvenirs, popcorn and candy.

Our adventure has finally come to an end, and I know my mother and I are both relieved to be leaving without a single embarrassing incident.

No. My mouth forms the word without sound as I feel the familiar soft touch around my elbow. The resistance causes my intoxicated father to let go, flailing forward, tripping over his feet and narrowly missing a face-first tumble into the ground. I spin around, heart pounding. Let go, I mouth.

When my voice finally catches up with the rest of my body, I sob, “Stop. Don’t do this. Get out of here.”

My eyes plead with Azrael to turn and run, but he only looks at me, confused.

Everything else happens in slow motion. He shakes his head, sliding his grip down my arm in an electrifying caress, pulling me into his embrace.

I fall against his chest, pressing away from the very arms I crave.

Like a flower resisting the sun, I fight his hold.

And then Azrael does the absolute unimaginable.

He tilts my chin up to meet his sparkling blue eyes. I stare into their depths—deep like the sea and hypnotizing beneath the glow of the moon. I wish I could look away, but the spell is cast and my body zings for him.

“I’m sorry, Mercy. I was looking for you and then she stopped me.

When I said no, and by the time I pushed past her, you were already moving in the opposite direction.

I saw the hurt in your eyes, and I promise you, Mercy, there’s no one else.

” He presses his lips to my forehead and whispers, “I want you, Mercy, but you don’t belong to me.

There are things I can’t tell you, but I don’t want to fight this anymore.

I can’t. So if you’re going to be my undoing, then all I want is to crash and fall with you in my arms.”

His thumb strokes over my cheek in a tender show of emotion, and out of nowhere, he slips a marigold stem behind my ear.

Then his lips brush over mine, and the entire world stops.

Time freezes as my body sings in response to his kiss.

A warm tingle erupts from head to toe, drowning me in a blissful wave.

I want to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in deeper. But then I remember… I’m not alone.

My father’s voice booms behind us, and Azrael pulls away like I’ve burned him.

The warmth of the kiss vanishes in an instant, replaced by a chill that licks down my spine.

Turmoil erupts. Azrael stumbles back, clutching his face.

He wipes blood from his mouth onto the back of his hand.

Screams and shouting swirl around me like a hurricane of panic.

I wrap my arms around myself, scanning the crowd for my mother.

In the distance, the pounding of footsteps can be heard.

“Take your hands off my daughter, you circus trash!” my father roars, swinging another blow at Azrael and catching him across the back of his shoulders.

A small yelp escapes my lips as I watch, terrified. My mind plays out a thousand different endings to this scenario, but none of them end well.

My father raises his fist again, but this time Azrael dodges, spinning and swinging a leg out to knock my father over. He falls, landing hard on his ass.

“How dare you! Abomination,” my father snarls.

“Father, no!… Stop! Please,” I cry, as my mother’s arms encircle me in a knowing embrace.

My mother struggles against me, trying to pull me away from the growing crowd, but even though I know it would be better to leave with her, I resist—struggling to break free from her.

My father notices. He zeroes in on me, eyes darting from my guilty face to Azrael’s. He glowers at me with a disappointed stare.

Everything happens so fast. Father raises his hand over his head, and the next thing I know, there’s a biting sting across the flesh of my cheek. I scream, falling to the ground, pressing the palm of my hand against the sting from his hit.

Through tear-streaked eyes, I watch Azrael explode.

He moves unnaturally fast, blurring against the shadows, but it’s probably the swelling as my eye puffs up.

My father raises his hand to strike me again, but Azrael grabs his wrist and throws him to the ground, landing a kick into his ribs that leaves him sputtering.

“Assault!” my father bellows, loudly attracting even more attention. “You all saw it! He laid hands on my daughter, then attacked me! This circus is dangerous.” He jumps to his feet, ready to attack Azrael again.

My mother, knowing this will not end well, once again tries to drag me away, but it’s no use. I’m hysterical.

I look at Azrael, tears streaming down my face, and bottom lip quivering.

He risked it all and now... well, now everything is going to change.

A giant beast of a man, covered in thick brown hair from head to toe, has Azrael in a firm hold, keeping him from charging.

The strongman from earlier—the one who bent steel with his bare hands—grabs Azrael’s other arm.

Together they drag him out of view, leaving me to wonder if he’s more man or beast.

The marigold from my ear lies lifeless in the dirt, alone and uncrushed. Noticing my stare, my father walks over to where the marigold lays abandoned, looks me in the eyes, and stomps on the bloom—crushing it beneath his boot.

I try to scream, but my mother’s hand cups over my mouth, smothering the sound. Not a single noise escapes, and I finally crumble into her.

A forbidding crunch of dirt and gravel fills my ears, followed by stinging silence. I dare to look and see the Ringmaster standing like a bad omen, glaring at my father, who is still carrying on about how he was assaulted.

“Enough.” His assertive voice rings out over the crowd, booming and loud.

A hush falls over the circus grounds, quieter than anything I’ve ever known.

“Go home,” he says.

“All of you. Except you.” He points a long, bony finger at my father.

The crowd quickly disperses. Soon, the only ones left are our little family and the circus folk, slowly surrounding my father.

The bearded lady holds a hammer used for nailing down railroad ties, swinging it in her left hand.

She raises it to point at my father, then slams the head of it into her opposite hand while lifting her lip in a snarl.

The hairy beast-man who dragged Azrael off moments ago now stands, chains wrapped around each massive fist. They clink as they kiss the dirt.

Several dwarf-sized men cluster together with torches and menacing faces illuminated by the flames.

One of the trapeze fliers kicks at the dirt, his show makeup smeared.

He brandishes a medium-length dagger with a blackened metal blade.

Beside him, a man whose gnarled hands end in hooked claws instead of fingers clutches a splintered plank of wood like he’s ready to bury it in flesh.

Together they are menacing as they glare at my father, who is now trapped in the center of a circle with nowhere to escape.

“How many tickets did you purchase tonight?” the Ringmaster asks.

“Four,” my father lies.

“Then I shall pay you for two,” the Ringmaster replies, raising his brow in a challenge.

He throws coins at my father and steps out of the circle, leaving a spot for my father to walk out behind him.

My father shuffles over to where the coins landed on the ground and bends, scooping them up into his greedy fingers.

“Do not ever return to my circus. You are no longer welcome here. And should you try anything—any funny business, arson, anything at all—only death will await you. Agonizing, torturous death. Do you understand?” His smile is so wicked, a chill rolls over my body.

He laughs, delighting in the fear on my father’s now ghostly pale face.

“Y…y…y…yessss,” my father stutters, before running out the gap in bodies, not bothering to wait for us.

Only silence follows—until a single, eerie howl pierces the quiet, escaping the beast-man’s lips. I gulp in fear, feeling the trembling of my mother’s body against my own.

The Ringmaster looks around at his performers with a swell of pride in his chest, then walks back beneath the cover of the big top. I’m certain I catch a swirl of smoke and shadows snaking around his boots as he makes his exit.

My mother and I quietly tiptoe away, vanishing into the sleeping town. But home is no safer. Home is where my father’s wrath awaits.