Page 31 of Lux

Minchae. I didn’t even notice her come up beside me, draped in a purple robe that obscures her costume. “It’s not a matinee night, and I’ve done that particular performance a million bloody times, but the bastard insists. Perhaps I can use your advice to get him to let me change it?”

“Oh no!” I stammer, nearly biting my tongue in my rush to add, “You were amazing! Incredible! I can’t even imagine?—”

“Enough.” Smiling, she raises a hand to render me silent. A faint flush paints her cheeks. Her gaze is clouded. Confused.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” I croak. “Truly. It’s just that you were…”

Magnificent.

She sighs. “Don’t worry yourself. I know you mean well. It’s been a while since I’ve come across anyone so green. They really didn’t let you out of their commune, did they?”

She doesn’t mean the other realm and the fae. Her disdain is for a “settlement” where they marry sister to brother. To what ends? Something that results in beings like her. Like me. Half-formed creatures deemed different by most.

Yet, the sentiment is all the same, no matter what place she refers to.

“Yes,” I say with a nod. “I was not allowed out.”

Her eyes widen and another emotion flits across her face too quickly to name. A shudder runs through her as she drops the edges of her robe tighter together, then crosses her arms around herself. The gesture is universal, as naive and sheltered as I may be, she is unnerved by me. I make her uncomfortable.

Shame creeps in, eating away my thrilling excitement. I am that creature again, who lurked within the halls of the archives, forgotten and unwanted. I am unworthy of notice and shiny, beautiful things.

I deserve nothing.

“Come on.” Minchae has turned her attention from me, and frowns as Cyrus continues his rambling speech. “Let’s get out of here before the bastard makes me do an encore.”

She leads me back to her tent but holds up a hand before I can follow her inside. “Just a moment.” She darts between the fabric and reappears a moment later with a silk robe nearly identical to hers, but a vibrant, emerald green.

“Put this on. No use in giving these sick bastards a free show.”

She gestures to my red costume, and I tug on the edge of the short skirt. As I slip the robe around me, I marvel at its softness and comfortable length. Some greedy part of me recognizes it as the same color the fae wear in their robes in the other realm. Like Day.

I may never wear clothing of the same status, but this is just as good. In this smooth, watery silk I feel as regal as the Lord Master ever could.

“Frankly, I’m surprised that anyone managed to pay attention to me with you gaping like you were. I looked down at you and nearly slipped off my trapeze.”

She laughs.

I feel my face turn bloody red.

“Oh, I am so sorry! So sorry!” Perhaps I should hide my face like Caspian does in the sun. Rather than for my own protection, it would be for those around me. If my excitement can cause such disruption to others, how dare I express it so openly.

Yet, a niggling doubt creeps in. Caspian saw me just as excited as this, if not more. He thought me beautiful then, worthy of devouring. He wanted me more.

“Goodness, you are a strange little thing,” Minchae says, still smiling. Another laugh escapes her, but it is strained. Exasperated. “I thought it was an act at first. I know plenty of beautiful girls who pretend like they don’t notice. It’s an act they put on to make the men around them swoon and drool. I’ve worked with countless vain, spoiled, greedy bitches. Frankly, I’m jaded. But you…” She spins to face me, her gaze thoughtful. Inquisitive. “You are the real deal. You have no idea, do you? The effect you have on people?” She gestures around us with a wave.

I follow her stare, confused. Around us are tents and cages of creatures and beings of all sizes and shapes. There are noises and smells and sounds. There are crowds of people milling to and from the main stage and random bursts of gasps and laughter.

Minchae has led me away from the chaos. Even so, people gather here. Staring. Lurking. They pretend as if they aren’t enthralled by one sight, yet it draws their interest over and over.

Me?

No, her. Obviously, her.

I look back to her, questioning.

She laughs. “You’re an odd one, alright. Very, very odd. Cyrus is probably counting up the gold he plans to make off you as we speak.”

She leans against a nearby cage and sticks her fingers between the bars. Inside of it is a strange creature. It resembles a goat of some sort, but with too-large eyes the color of moonlight.

---