Chapter 1
Mercy
Ituck my head low behind the sleeve of my worn wool coat as I duck around the heavy red curtain of the big top, stealthily dodging the ticket taker. Each movement is precise, well-executed— the choreography like a familiar muscle memory, something I’ve practiced a million times. Despite my father’s wishes, I practically grew up under the circus tent. This place has always been an escape for me, where nothing else matters and time stops. The familiar smells and sounds ground me, lulling me into a false sense of security.
But it’s more than just solitude. This is the only place anyone ever saw me. The first time we met, Azrael noticed me. After that, we were inseparable, until my father found out and forbade me from seeing him. Azrael went along with it. And I’ve never forgiven him. I needed him to be my light in the dark, but my only friend abandoned me at a time when I already felt alone.
My chest heaves with the emptiness of the void his absence left behind. There’s an undeniable pull between us. No matter how much I hate him on nights like tonight, he still feels like home. That’s why I came here, though, isn’t it?I need to see him.As long as I remain undetected, he won’t even know I’m here. I’ve snuck in hundreds of times. This one will be no different.
I creep along, slinking behind the crowded seats, blending in with the other guests as I make my way to the front of the ring. All around me, people chatter excitedly. Everyone in town is drawn to the excitement of the show the Ringmaster and Azrael put on—myself included. It’s my secret little escape from reality, and the only chance I’ll have to see him.
Peanut shells pop and crunch beneath my feet. The crowd cheers, and I slink closer until I’m right up front. I settle against the barrier, waiting for Azrael to step into the ring. The show never disappoints. Under the big top, the stands are always packed. People flock from all over to see the Ringmaster. He’s captivating, commanding the entire tent. It’s impossible to look away while the spotlight shines on him, illuminating his every move as he orchestrates the show.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” his deep voice rumbles as silence falls beneath the canvas. “Welcome to the circus. I hope you enjoy the show this evening.”
The spotlight dims. Hushed whispers fill the air. The Ringmaster is magnetic, but when the light hits Azrael, every eye shifts to him. His onyx hair glows beneath the warm yellow lights. A strong, chiseled jawline runs the length of his face, and broad shoulders give him a striking silhouette. Shadows lap at his back,threatening to swallow him into their abyss. He’s breathtaking in a tailored suit that matches the Ringmaster’s—crisp and immaculate beneath the lights.
I fight the urge to swoon as an audible gasp erupts from the crowd, but it’s hard not to let him affect me. He’s all grown up now. It’s been four months since I last saw him, and even if I refuse to admit it out loud, I’m just as drawn to him tonight as I was back then, and every time before. I’ve always been drawn to him. Only my body knows the secrets I’m so desperate to hide. I crave him the way stars ache for the moon—distant, inevitable, hopeless.
He tosses his baton to his other hand, shaking it in the air, then points to the hanging bars and dazzling silk ribbons as the acrobats swing overhead. Applause fills the tent, and he flashes everyone a dazzling smile as the spotlight shifts, illuminating the show in the sky. I roll my eyes. He’s always been a showoff.
The Ringmaster and Azrael entertain the audience, moving through the transitions seamlessly while the next acts prepare in the shadows. Once again, I lose myself in thought. My body relaxes as I finally focus on more than just running to him. In my mind, I picture it—his arms wrapping around me, drawing me into my safe place. My solace. His chest rising and falling evenly as my forehead rests against it, calming my racing thoughts. He presses a soft kiss on top of my head. It’s perfect. But it will never happen. He doesn’t want me. Who can blame him? I’m an easily forgotten woman, unworthy to share his spotlight. I’ll never be worth fighting for.
Which only reminds me, I gave up on believing my father would change when I was ten. After I met Azrael, whenever things got really bad at home, I’d end up here—hiding under the folds of the big top, just like tonight. But tonight, I’m not just running.
I’m chasing something. Him.
I had to see Azrael, had to be close to him. Like an insatiable itch, something pulled me to the bright lights—a whisper in the wind urging me down the road to the edge of town, where the giant gates waited to welcome guests. Right now, this is the only place where I can escape my father’s rage.
The crowd gasps as the lights go out. A moment later, a flame flickers to life, slowly consuming the darkness around it—lighting the rest of the fiery batons as a woman in a sparkling red sequin dress twirls them. The burning orbs dance and glow, locked in a battle between light and dark. Transfixed by their rhythm, I’m lost in the show once more.
The first time I came here still feels fresh, like it hasn’t been years since I thought I might never see my mother alive again. Sometimes, when they fought, I hid inside my cedar chest, clinging to a tattered picture book, its pages worn from the number of times I’d willed myself to escape into them.
That night, something came over me. My feet carried me down the dirt road to the striped circus tent. The fear in my mother’s voice, the sound of her screams, echoed in my ears with every slap of my shoes against the hard ground. I didn’t plan to run to the circus—I just ran. Adrenaline pushed me forward until I wasswallowed by the crowd outside the tent. I hesitated… until a boy my age caught my eye. He waved for me to follow. And I did. I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know he’d break me years later. I only knew he smiled like he could see straight through me. And I was already halfway lost.
A small child bumps into my hip, jostling me from the memory. I blink. A beautiful woman in a glittering pink costume rides an elephant around the ring. She moves in sync with two other women in matching outfits. My mouth gapes in awe. The woman wears the biggest smile I’ve ever seen as she waves, while posing as gracefully as a ballerina. The crowd oohs and ahhs.
Inside, I wonder what it might feel like to be her—happy and free, like a bird spreading its wings and flying off into the distant sunset. The applause from the crowd echoes beneath the thick canvas. This time, I don’t flinch or lose myself to my memories. An easy sense of peace and relief washes over me. All of my worries are gone as I smile and clap along with the others nearby. The screams from the crowd always cover up the terror playing on repeat in my head.
The moment is fleeting. I forget all of my pain and worries. The elephants stop. The lights dim for the introduction of another act. My eyes hood over as I’m pulled back into another memory. The crowd doesn’t just grow quiet in anticipation of the next spectacle. It’s silent because I’m no longer at this show.
I’m standing beneath the big top. My father came home from the factory drunk. He was angry because we didn’t have enough food. In his drunken state, he couldn’t fathom how he worked all day at the factory only to come home to a lousy meal. Even withmy mother washing laundry every day, it didn’t always leave us with enough money for meat. Meat was scarce for everyone in the village; the rainy season lingered cold and wet. The hunters and trappers were often seen returning empty-handed. Even the fishermen's nets have been lighter. In my memory, I ran to him again, like all the other times. Older now, I looked at him differently, with stronger feelings. I was seventeen, and my father forbade me from ever seeing Azrael again. That night ignited something in me I wouldn’t understand for another four years.
The night was so much like the others—except Azrael saw me crying. I hadn’t meant to. A lone tear trickled down my cheek, but he wiped it away. We stuffed our mouths with popcorn and peanuts while we waited for the show to end. Then he walked me home, a man in a long wool jacket trailing along behind us. When we reached my house, I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. Normally he’d tease me, but that night, he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.
In the present, a knuckle brushes down the slope of my jaw, tucking hair behind my ear. I jump, surprised, as Azrael appears in front of me, shadows clinging to him, wrapping dark tendrils around us. It gives an illusion that we’re all alone, and I wonder if anyone else can see him. He leans over the half-wall, his voice a deep rumble against my ear.
“Are you okay, Mercy?”
I answer him carefully, trying not to smile. “I feel better now.”
A confession that tugs his decadent lips into a smile. Somehow, he knew I was here. He reaches up, as he has a thousand times, brushing away the tear daring to escape my cheek before offering me a flower from his coat. I blush. It’s not the first time he’s pulled a flower from his jacket pocket, and I wonder if he always carries one… and why. Before I can give it much thought, his thumb sweeps over my hand tenderly as I wrap my fingers around the stem. Azrael brings his finger to his lips, signaling our meeting is supposed to be a secret. Then he twirls, swallowed by shadows and darkness, disappearing back from where he came. I want to call after him, beg him to stay just a minute longer, but the lights rise, cheers erupt, and a lion strides into the ring. It’s his act. The warm lights pour down on Azrael in the center of the ring, all alone save for the lion sitting regally beside him, still as a statue.
I enjoy the rest of the show. When it ends, I slip through the crowd, heading toward a hiding spot I scouted earlier—until a hand snatches mine and yanks me away.
Azrael stands only inches from me, his eyes cold and icy, his expression hard. Then he softens, as if realizing he was frowning. With a mischievous smirk, he curls his finger, indicating I should come closer.
When I don’t move, he reaches for me, grabs my hand, and slams my body against his hard chest. A shiver pulses up my spine as I immediately step away, pausing only to look from my own hand to his, and back again to my own before letting go nervously. I fold my arms across my chest. It’s dark, but it looks like Azrael is blushing. He reaches into his jacket pocket toremove something, stuffing a paper ticket into the clutches of my fingers. I look down, confused.
