Page 31

We dip under the archway, revealing a circle of benches, each row rising to offer an unobstructed view of the central arena. The acrobats spin along ropes and swing from above, the prelude to keep the audience happy while we wait for the show to begin.

Charming takes the lead into the middle row, and Gwyneth sighs as she follows him. I guess for it to count as a date, she needs to be close to him. I can chaperone from beside her. Plus, I have a magical broom to warn off floof-fiddling fingers.

Malachi slides in next to me. I lean around, finding the seat next to him empty. “Where’s Hart?”

“He went to get snacks.” That man knows how to get to my heart.

As the pre-show continues, I’m glued to every detail of the wonders unfolding before me. From the miniature horses that seem oddly more terrifying than their larger counterparts, to the people dressed as clowns entertaining the audience with their antics of falling over everything and nothing.

“I think I identify as a clown,” I mutter. “At least I’d get paid for it.”

Malachi snorts as a pink cloud on a stick appears over my shoulder. I blink. Floating pink clouds?

“It’s cotton candy,” Hart explains. I twist my head to stare at him and grin as I take the stick. He offers another to Gwyneth.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I could get you snacks,” Charming says. “Any that your heart desires.” He knows he’s not in competition for her heart with the knights, right?

“I’m good with this,” she comments.

We both take a bite of the giant cloud. Sweet, crunchy spun sugar dissolves on my tongue, disappearing in an impossible feat, making my brows lower.

“You don’t like it?” Hart asks.

“No, I love it. It rivals sausages. But how does such a huge bite dissolve into nothing so fast?” I take another swipe with my tongue, and it happens again. Wow. Malachi’s throat bobs as he watches me lick the candy floss. “You want some?” I ask.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it. “Yes.”

I guess I can share. He gently pushes my hand away and leans in, his eyes glittering as his tongue swipes out and licks across my lips. My heart thumps in my chest as my eyes go wide.

“Fucking delicious,” he mutters. Umm, who abducted my sweet, happy twin?

“Don’t even think about it,” Gwyneth snaps. I lean forward and catch Charming mid lean-in. Aww, he’s trying to steal my knights’ moves. But for them to work, the female has to actually want him. He huffs as he sits back in his seat.

Gwyneth makes a humming, joyful noise. She has a secret sweet tooth.

“New favorite?” I ask. She nods and takes another bite. “I agree.”

My broom swats my head. I glance behind me, finding it hovering. It seems sad. “I cannot eat you,” I explain. “Favorite things have categories. This is my new favorite thing to put in my mouth.”

“I’m sure I can change your mind,” Malachi mutters.

The broom tilts to the side like it’s trying to understand me. “Then we have cleaning utensils. You are most certainly my favorite.” It swats me on the head twice, making Hart snort. “Umm, I can’t christen you as my favorite magical creature. The others might get upset.”

The broom lies on the floor at Hart’s feet. Oh, no—I’ve upset my broom.

“Is your sister speaking to the enchanted broom?” Charming asks.

“Yes. Don’t interfere,” Gwyneth advises.

I search my mind for how to make the broom feel included before snapping my fingers.

“I know. Why don’t we name you? None of the others have a unique name.

” Although now I’m thinking about it, they probably should.

They might even already have a name, and I have never bothered asking for it. I am a terrible friend.

The broom hovers higher like this pleases him.

I tap my chin with my index finger. “How about Dusty Do-Gooder?” He falls on the floor in a huff.

“You’re right. That makes you sound judgy.

Umm, Sweepy McSlapface?” No response. “I have it. Something regal that befits your station in my life with the knights. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot.”

The broom rises and zooms around the tent, skimming people’s hair.

“I think he likes it,” Malachi says.

A guy in a midnight velvet coat with gold buttons points at Sir Sweeps-A-Lot. “All magical objects not associated with the show should be kept on a leash or checked at the door.”

My broom finishes his lap and comes back to settle at Hart’s feet like a faithful puppy, just as the lights flicker and descend into complete darkness.

“Ladies and gentlemen, creatures great and small, prepare yourselves for the spectacle of spectacles. Let your imaginations run wild, for tonight, your darkest desires and wildest wishes will ensnare your senses and deliver a show that will stay with you for an eternity.”

A hushed hum of anticipation rushes through the crowd. Malachi’s hand dips inside the silk of my pants and curves around my bare thigh, making me suck in a breath.

A spotlight appears in the very center, leaving the crowd in darkness.

The first act begins with a flourish of dark petals that rain from the ceiling.

Their heady scent makes my blood burn hot.

A female dancer steps into the ring, her movements hypnotic and serpentine.

Her body glimmers as if kissed by moonlight, and with each twist and turn, the shadows surrounding her deepen, creating forms that writhe and whisper.

They beckon the audience, their eyes burning with invitation and danger.

Gasps ripple through the crowd as the dancer’s shadows break free, becoming figures of their own—dark, faceless shapes that entwine with the patrons closest to the ring, their touches fleeting but electric. Laughter and shivers mingle in the air, a strange blend of delight and unease.

The next act follows seamlessly. A gilded cage descends from above, carrying twin acrobats whose movements defy gravity and morality alike.

Their routines are not merely feats of skill but displays of connection—the kind that makes the audience shift in their seats and hold their breath.

They spin and tumble, their bodies mirroring one another with perfect precision until, at the crescendo, they vanish entirely in a burst of golden smoke.

Malachi’s fingers draw maddening circles on my sensitive flesh, gliding higher on my thigh and making me shift in my seat.

I glance over my shoulder, finding Hart’s gaze lasered on Malachi’s hand and not the show.

His eyes, which look like orbs of midnight in this dim light, meet mine, and his lip curls at the side, most likely remembering what we shared.

Malachi pinches my thigh, making me yelp, and my head twist to him.

“Eyes on the show, Daphne,” he murmurs as Hart trails a finger along my nape, making shivers ripple down my spine.

The crowd erupts into applause, but the sound is almost drowned out by the sudden haunting strains of a violin.

A single performer emerges, a figure cloaked in shadows with a bow that dances across the strings on its own.

The melody is a siren call, tugging at the hidden desires of every listener.

Images of being naked between the twins assault my mind.

Hart’s breath on my nape, his harsh and unrelenting hands plucking and pulling at my nipples, while his brother’s soft lips coax me to let go of all my inhibitions.

Somewhere in the circus’s darkness, laughter bubbles—soft, sensuous, and tinged with malice. The ringmaster strides into the center of the ring, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Ah, but this is merely the beginning,” he says, spreading his arms wide. The light flickers, and the tent stretches, growing larger, its walls pulsing with a life of their own.

“Dare you stay for more? Or will you leave before the circus unveils your deepest truth?”

The audience murmurs, uncertain yet unable to resist. The magic of the circus is not in its acts, but in its promises—dark, seductive, and irresistible.

“What will it be, Calamity?” Hart purrs in my ear. “Stay or go?”

My spine arches as my breasts swell and heat gathers low in my belly. I already know the answer, as do they.

“Stay.”