Midnight. Christi Whitney J.

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       2. Josephine

      It was sweltering underneath the stage lights. My thick tights clung damply to my legs, and sweat tickled the back of my neck. As I eased carefully into a headstand, balancing on Andre’s shoulders, my sequined costume scraped against my arms.

      Once I made it through the routine, the show would be over, and I would be free. I tried to focus, to keep myself in the moment of our performance, but the Circe continued to fade around me … my mind traveled, the crowd blurred …

       The Holding Tent emptied quickly after Sebastian’s trial. The benches were abandoned and the space was eerily quiet. Except for one sound – the sound of labored breathing, the sound of someone in pain.

      He was still chained to the center support pole, just as he’d been during the kris. I stared at Sebastian in sickened shock. His jeans were ripped in several places with long tears. There were gashes in his arms, covered with his strange, purple-black blood. A deep slash cut across his chest. It had ripped the fabric of his t-shirt away. His jaw was discolored, his gray skin turning an unsettling shade of indigo.

       My eyes rose to his face, and his eyes met mine.

       I ran across the room.

       ‘Sebastian!’

       ‘Josephine,’ he answered. His voice was hoarse. ‘What are you doing here?’

       I studied his wounds. ‘Oh, God, what have they done?’

       ‘I’m fine,’ he said, smiling.

       He kept his lips closed, as always. But how could he smile right now? I tried to laugh, but it felt like I was choking. ‘You suck at lying, you know.’ I suddenly remembered the Marksmen. ‘Are they still here?’

       ‘They’re in the woods,’ he answered. He shifted his body, trying to loosen the chains around his middle. I could see pain flicker behind his silver eyes. ‘What’s going on?’

       ‘A handful of grotesques near the back gates.’ I looked away, hating to say it out loud, to admit the next bit. ‘And two chimeras.’

       Sebastian growled. The sound was inhuman, threatening. But it wasn’t directed at me. It was for himself. I saw the glimmer of sharp teeth as he started to speak. ‘I should’ve—’

       I pressed my fingers against his mouth. ‘Don’t go there. I’m the one who told you to leave Anya and Matthias. The Marksmen will deal with them. Even if you had killed those chimeras on the mountain, it wouldn’t have prevented all this from happening.’

       I removed my hand, and I saw him swallow back another growl. His eyes, which had taken on a fierce gleam, softened again. I felt a kind of unspoken communication pass between us, wrapping around me like a blanket, familiar and comfortable. We were in this together, no matter what happened next.

       Sebastian’s wings suddenly shuddered against the cords, and he winced. He maneuvered his body, trying to find a comfortable position, but the Marksmen had done their job well.

       Quentin’s Marksmen.

       Anger licked across my stomach as I remembered how nonchalantly Quentin had withheld casting a vote in Sebastian’s verdict – a decision that could’ve set him free. Quentin’s hatred of the shadow world was fierce. I’d once seen it as noble. But after this …

      ‘They’re wrong about you,’ I said, placing my hand against Sebastian’s neck. I felt him tremble. ‘I should have challenged my father and the kris. I should have forced Quentin to change his decision. You’re innocent.’

       ‘There’s nothing you could’ve done,’ Sebastian replied, giving me that same, gentle smile that made me feel all kinds of things. ‘Not even your father can go against the ruling, you said so yourself. I don’t know much about your people’s laws, but I saw the power of the council tonight. They’d already made up their minds.’

       My shoulders slumped under invisible hands, pushing me down. ‘I know my words wouldn’t have changed anything but, believe me, I’m not done trying. There has to be another way.’

       I stared into his eyes, and a powerful, electric silence fell between us. He leaned forward, but the chains prevented him from going very far.

       ‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘For believing me.’

       ‘I’ve always believed you, Sebastian.’ I raised my hand to his face and pressed my palm gently against his right cheek. His skin was cool to the touch, like a stone plucked from a mountain stream. I felt my heart beat faster as our eyes met. ‘You’re the only one I can believe.’

      Applause roared around me. I jerked to the present. My legs wobbled in my pose. The chair Andre was balancing on teetered underneath his feet, but he adjusted so fast, no one in the audience would’ve noticed. But he did. I came out of my handstand. He offered his hands and I dismounted beside him.

      ‘What’s in your head?’ Andre hissed in my ear. ‘Focus!’

      I sprang onto his broad shoulders again for our next pose, the most difficult of our combinations for the routine. His hands wrapped around mine, giving me a cue with one firm squeeze. I pulled myself up again, this time, balancing on one arm. My body quivered. Just a few more seconds. I tried to block out the crowd, the lights, and the pressure. But my mind …

       Sebastian …

       I said his name like a plea.

       Sebastian …

       He turned his silver-moon eyes toward me. Guilt, like a massive explosion, struck me from the inside out. I strained to reach him through the bars of the cage. I couldn’t. He was too far. I’d come too late. All I could do was whisper the same phrase, over and over again.

       I’m so sorry … I’m so sorry … I’m so …

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