Page 42 of Dream in Darkness
“I think she’s pissed they won’t let her work The Sinner’s Circus yet, but she’s too young,” I say and Yasmeena nods.
“Agreed.”
“Brat,” we both say in tandem and then let out a burst of laughter, and I’m once again reminded of how easy it is to get along with her when I allow myself to let go.
Enjoying my fiancé’s presence isn’t a crime. As long as I stick to my mission, maybe it’s okay to enjoy a stolen moment every once in a while.
We step inside, and Absinthe looks like a madwoman. There are pins strewn about the workbench, and strips of fabric covering the floor. She smiles as we make eye contact and gestures for both of us to stand on adjacent platforms.
I oblige, stepping onto the small wooden box.
“Hold still,” Absinthe says, pulling a tape measurer around my waist.
I huff a strand of hair from out of my face and try my best not to move. “What are we here for exactly?”
“I need to fit both of you for your costumes.” Absinthe marks some numbers down on her piece of paper. “Do you like corsets?”
“Not particularly. Not great for movement.”
“Hmm. Okay, step off. I’ll have to make you something flexible. Would you preferblue or green?”
“Blue,” I answer, and look over to where Yasmeena is still standing, her golden eyes shimmering back up at me.
“I will have something finished for you in the next few hours,” Absinthe says, and turns to Yasmeena. She grabs a small pile of fabric off the table and hands it to her. “Here, try this on.”
I turn and close my eyes as Yasmeena undresses. I hear the distinct sound of a zipper, and anticipation somersaults in my stomach.
“You can turn around,” Absinthe says, and when I do, my heart rate spikes.
Yasmeena looks heavenly. The black bodysuit sparkles against the bright, golden brown of her skin. One of her arms is exposed, the other covered in a clear mesh, her legs dressed in the same sheer material. It hugs every curve, showcases every muscle, and I want to drink her in.
I’m desperate to get my hands on her, but instead I nod.
“You look great,” I say, because it’s all I can manage to muster; my mind a muddled mess.
Absinthe continues marking down measurements. I can’t help but feel jealous of every touch—every moment her fingertips brush Yasmeena’s skin.
“Do you like weapons?” Absinthe asks, her eyes a little crazed as she places a pin in the fabric next to Yasmeena’s hip bone.
“Eh,” I answer honestly. “I have claws and magic, what good are swords?”
“Don’t forget teeth,” Yasmeena says, biting her lower lip.
I know it wasn’t meant to be sexual. Hel, it wasn’t meant to be anything, but the motion drives me wild, and I force myself into a more appropriate headspace.
“I like bats and clubs,” Absinthe shares, her eyes wide with mischief, and she walks across the room to jot something down.
I’m not trying to make more friends here, but I’mdefinitelynot trying to be friends with this strange jester.
“What is wrong with her?” I ask, my voice hardly a whisper.
Yasmeena smiles. “She’s the other Executioner. I think she’s just getting into the right headspace for her job later tonight.”
I nod, but I can’t help how all the warmth and joy seems to leave my body at once. At that cruel reminder, my blood runs cold. Reina had already shared this with me, but hearing those words from Yasmeena’s mouth is somehow harder. The fact that she is so close to Absinthe and Reina, knowing what they did to Tyrus, makes her complicit in his death. It’s important that I remember she’s one of them, especially in the moments where she starts to feel likemine.
No matter how many times I might laugh or enjoy the company of these carnies, they are not my friends, and I have to keep my distance. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. I can’t care for them anymore than I’ve started to.
Not if I’m going to succeed.
