Page 33 of House of Clowns

"Hey, beautiful," Hypno said, breaking my thoughts because he handed me a cup of coffee.

I breathed in the warmth, the smell grounding me. "Ready for the show tonight?" I said, sipping.

"Yeah," he said with a sly grin. "Planning to hypnotize a lion this time." His laughter was a flash of teeth, winking and even charming.

"And I plan to fly," I said, my eyes blinking twice as the warmth of the coffee seeped into me.

Hypno's hand found mine, his touch steady and warm. "I know it's hard for you," he said, the softness of his tonesurprising. "To take her place. But she'll be with you the whole time.

"I know," I replied, a sad smile curving my lips. "Her and Dhalia, welcomed me like I was family. I'll never forget that.

Rocco's voice boomed outside the tent to introduce the next act.

I turned to the mirror, my gaze drinking in my reflection. Tonight, I was wearing a burgundy satin jumpsuit with panels of see-through across my chest and arms, Ace of Hearts playing cards stitched onto the fabric.

My makeup was soft—my lips painted into that heart shape Ruby always did with perfection, her trademark. Black hearts stretched from my brow to my cheekbone, and a pale pink blush softened my features. Well, tonight I was the Ace of Hearts—for Rio, and for her. It was all for them in that one dance.

"Break a leg," Hypno whispered, and gave my hand a squeeze.

"Hope not," I said, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek as I dodged toward the back of the tent.

As I approached the platform, Soap&Skin'sMe and the Devilbegan to play, mournful strains filling the tent with their haunting beauty. I raised my arms and flew towards the middle of the ring, feeling the give of sand beneath my feet grounding me as neon lights cast their glow over everything. Three silks hung suspended in the air, alight, calling to me. I leaped, catching one of the silks and wrapping it around my leg as my body spun in slow circles. The world below me shrank small and unimportant. Higher and higher I climbed, winding my body around the fabric until I hung midair, weight tugging at the silks, ache of muscles reminding me I was alive. I slid down, fluidly unwrapping myself in a graceful movement until the audience began murmuring. Then, at that moment, the people—the applause—were just all far away, and the world was nothing but colors and music tinted into one another.

I reached out and caught another silk, wrapping it around my arms, pulling myself up, and twirling in the air, my feet kicked free. Here, I could fly; here, nothing or no one could get to me. In ugliness, I had found this shining, bright bit of beauty, a space I could flee to. As my act came to an end, I let my body unwind, spiraling down, closer and closer to the floor, until I hovered just above the ground. I was breathless, and just as I prepared for my final move, one single rose of red color floated down, landing into the sand before me.

All have been silent, thinking it is part of the show. But as I looked up, there he was, Rio, watching from the shadows. His gaze was steady, but I could almost feel the distance between us, the ache in places that had not been resolved—the words that had not been said. My heart clenched as I reached out for the rose, my fingers brushing over its petals. Then, ready not to forget him yet, I threw it onto the ground, turned back to the silk, and let it carry me into another final spin.

The audience erupted into applause, their clapping like waves crashing up against me, but I barely heard it. They thought I was performing, that I was okay, dazzling, and whole.

Still, inside I was piecing myself together, pretending all was well. Because, after all, that's what we do under the circus lights; we pretend, we perform, and we make beautiful.

NINETEEN

JOKER

Iwatched her fly tonight, no bigger than an angel, hovering over the crowd, yet not quite anchored. She'd been a vision, flying in direct defiance of gravity and everything I thought I knew about reality. In a heartbeat, she'd gotten me to believe in magic. And knowing I was going to have to let her go again broke something deep in me. But I had no option. Not yet.

Her brother, Christian, was my"friend"since school but we never really liked each other, but in times of need we turned to each other, bartering for information or favors. I'd asked him once to dig into my past at this orphanage, and he did. He found that onNovember 13th, 1990, I wasn't the only one born. I came first, then Oscar, Silvio, and Enzo. Enzo, they said, was stillborn. So that left just three of us, triplets, each flung into a different destiny.

I was sent toOrphanage Santa Vittoria, a part of the monastery. My white hair and poor health made me an oddity, the child no one wanted. So I stayed, under the care of the sisters. Perfect, they said, was Oscar, a"golden child"with a tinybeauty mark beside his lips. That same night, he joined the Russi family, known as the son of Rome's mayor.

Then there was Silvio, a case of oversight by mistake or perhaps because it was meant to be so. The driver, who was to carry him toSanta Vittoria, forgot him and took him home. Rather than owning up to his mistake, he turned Silvio over to his brother, a locksmith.

Three lives, bound together by blood, yet separated because of, some may say cursed by chance. Our family line, Romanov, ran like a stain through our veins, binding us to a woman named Rose Romanov and to her father, Alessandro. We were bastards in every sense, carrying the mark of her sins.

If I ever met her, I'd spit in her face for what she'd done to us. She deserved a place in the deepest, darkest pit of hell, and even then, I think she'd make the devil run. But no one knew the truth, not even the woman I cared most about in this world.

Only three of us knew what had happened, and it gnawed in my gut, this living a life unworthy, weighted by my mother's sins.

All my life, I wanted to know why. Why she did do what she did, threw us away like nothing. I knew now, though, that her reasons were probably that she couldn't stand the reminders of her transgressions. Even thinking about it made me ill.

So here I was back again, within the House of Clowns, trying to atone for sins not even of my doing. Rocco had called me back and told me he wanted to break away from the Family, from the Circle. He had this sort of plan, though he refused to say what precisely. I had to come. I had to see her again.

There had not been a single day when I had not thought of her, of that night that we shared. She was the only thing that made me whole, the thing that made me more than a clown. To her, I was hers, the broken pieces and all.

I eased inside the tent, keeping myself well out of sight, and watched her from behind the shadows. She was dressed in red;anAce of Heartswas stitched on it. I knew it was a message from and for me. She'd sewn it for me.

She was talking to him, his hand resting on her shoulder. Anger flared through me as his fingers brushed her skin, a touch so familiar that it clenched my fists. Every bone in my body screamed to hurt him, rip his hands off her, but I knew that would only end up hurting her too.

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