‘We’ve called this kris because what happened tonight affects the entire clan – and not just us, but everyone in our kumpania.’
I searched frantically for my brother’s hand. Francis felt my touch and looked down at me. I saw the light of fiery anger behind his eyes. That tiny glimmer steadied me. My brother had supported Sebastian from the beginning, even when so many others had been unwilling to trust him because of what he was.
‘What’s happened?’ I whispered to him.
Francis turned his eyes towards our father. ‘I don’t know,’ he said tensely, through clenched teeth. ‘I heard there was another chimera attack.’
I froze. Had those demonic beasts we’d fought on Copper Mountain infiltrated the Circe while we were gone? Were people blaming Sebastian for not being here to protect them? If so, then it was my fault. I’d been the one to ask him to come with me. Guilt twisted my lungs like a tourniquet. All I’d wanted was some time with Sebastian alone – a moment of peace away from the business of the clan. It was the Marksmen’s job to patrol the Fairgrounds.
How could they blame Sebastian for this?
Leo, the head judge, addressed the crowd, turning his old withered face to the benches full of people. ‘The purpose of this kris is to determine the guilt or innocence of the accused.’
My throat seized up. Accused?
‘Nicolas!’ Sebastian’s voice suddenly rang out from the center of the tent. Jacque took a swing at him with his fist, but Sebastian ducked his head out of the way. ‘I demand to know why I’m here.’
Leo’s head snapped around. ‘You will speak only when directed to, gargoyle!’
‘I have the right to—’
‘You have no rights in this court,’ said Andre, cutting him off.
I felt my stomach sink even lower. Andre was my Circe partner. It wasn’t a secret that he was wary of Sebastian, but the malice in his voice took me by surprise. All around me, people were murmuring. People I’d always considered my friends – or, at least, people I’d always liked. Now, it was as though someone had poisoned the entire room with dark thoughts.
Quentin leaned across the table. ‘Leo, for the benefit of the court … and the accused, of course … why don’t you state the accusation?’
‘Very well,’ said Leo, drawing up his wrinkled face. ‘Sebastian Grey, you are on trial for the murder of Karl Corsi.’
The crowd exploded around me. I gasped and dug my fingers into Francis’ arm. Karl was dead? A cold shiver went down my spine. Karl had been more than just our circus trainer. He’d been like a grandfather to us all.
At Leo’s accusation, Sebastian slumped forward, as through someone had punched him in the stomach. The life went out of his inhumanly silver eyes. He looked sick. My heart wanted to burst.
‘No,’ I said loudly. Francis pulled on me, but I broke out of his grasp and rushed to the table. ‘That’s not possible. Sebastian was with me all day.’
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Quentin went rigid all over. He turned his piercing eyes in my direction, and I saw the familiar set of his jaw that meant he was furious with me. But I didn’t care. What they were doing was wrong. It was all wrong.
My father was also staring at me. ‘We’ll cover the details in time, Josephine,’ he said slowly. ‘Go back to your place.’
Though his voice sounded relaxed, his expression wasn’t. I felt the tension between us, and I knew I’d come dangerously close to overstepping my bounds. At this moment, I wasn’t Nicolas Romany’s daughter. I was a member of the Romany clan, and he was my bandoleer.
Every part of me screamed inside. But the authority of the kris was absolute. I was bound by it, the same as anyone else. With a huge amount of effort, I managed a stiff nod at my father. I felt Francis guiding me back to my place. He took my hand in his, holding it tightly.
‘There’s nothing you can do,’ he said quietly in my ear.
I watched with mounting dread as Leo regarded Sebastian with a frigid look and crossed his arms expectantly.
‘Well, gargoyle,’ said Leo. ‘What is your plea?’
Sebastian pushed himself up as straight as possible against the support pole. The clanking of his chains echoed eerily in the silent tent. Trickles of purple-black blood ran down his hands from the metal cuffs. His gray skin looked oddly pale, but his expression remained resolute. Sebastian looked steadily at each and every man at the table, and his silver gaze fell lastly on me. He took a deep breath and said in a voice loud enough for the entire room to hear:
‘I didn’t kill him.’
The neon sign of the Gypsy Ink flashed, ripping me from the memory. The horrible scene of the last few hours vaporized, and I found myself staring at the black door of the Corsi tattoo parlor, the place where Sebastian had spent most of his life. My chest ached.
How was I going to tell them about Sebastian?
I took a deep breath and flung open the door. A group of heavily tattooed men turned to face me. I looked around the room, trying to catch my breath and squash my nerves at the same time. I clutched Quentin’s keys in my fist, wondering how long it would be until he realized his SUV wasn’t there.
‘Where’s Hugo?’
The three men gaped at me, then turned their heads simultaneously towards a narrow hallway. I heard the clamp of heavy, steel-toed boots approaching on the tile floor. I squared my shoulders and pulled my robe tighter around my Circe costume as Hugo Corsi, the leader of the Corsi clan and Sebastian’s foster brother, stepped into the room.
‘Josephine.’
Hugo’s voice was rough and harder than concrete. The voice of someone used to being in charge and giving orders. The tone in which he said my name demanded answers to questions he hadn’t even asked.
‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted out, my nerves getting the best of me. ‘I tried to come sooner, but I couldn’t get away.’ I felt utterly ridiculous in my stage outfit and makeup. My Circe life was so different from Sebastian’s world – the world I was standing in now. ‘My father’s been watching my every move since it happened.’
‘Since what happened?’ Hugo punctuated every word. His dark eyes shifted to the door and back. ‘What are you doing here? And where’s Sebastian?’
I glanced over Hugo’s head, at the skull-and-crossbones clock hanging on the back wall. I had less than an hour until our show began. Andre, my routine partner, would realize I was missing the second he came by my dressing room to fetch me.
‘Sebastian’s gone,’ I answered.
Hugo tossed his cleaning rag aside and stormed around the counter. The muscles beneath his neck tattoo bulged, and the ink seemed to come to life across his skin.
‘What do you mean he’s gone?’
Before I could reply, a huge man standing on my right reached for me, his touch surprisingly gentle on my arm. He gave me a small smile. ‘Why don’t you start over, from the beginning?’
A man with red hair and a lip piercing shoved a stack of magazines off the couch and motioned for me to sit. I barely knew the Corsis, but I could pick them out from Sebastian’s descriptions. The red-haired man was Vincent. The stocky, thick-shouldered