Page 13 of Her Cruel Dahlias
Her heart swelled at that. “You truly think so?”
She nodded. “If I could bloom flowers with blood, it would be sensational. I’m going to grab a sweet treat. Do you want anything?”
“Not yet. But soon.” Cricket smiled, recalling how delicious the food in the carnival had smelled.
The audience cheered again as Zephyr bowed to the crowd, his vines no longer out. He strode off stage with his hands in his pockets. “You’re still here.” He grinned as he approached her.
“Oh, was I meant to leave?” She supposed she looked like a lovesick fool waiting there for him.
“I’m glad you stayed. You did great out there.” He tucked the swords in a bag hanging at the back of the stage.
She tilted her head to the side and pointed at him. “You did all the work.”
“Not the kiss to my cheek,” he purred, shifting closer, his woodsy scent becoming enticingly stronger.
The tent’s fabric rustled, and Mistress Eliza slipped through the back entrance. “That was good, Cricket. Now, you just need to continue focusing like that. But not like molasses,” she added before limping away to tell another group of performers how they could improve.
The necromancer was right, though. Cricket had spent a year at the carnival while asleep, helping to bring in paying customers. And now that she was awake, it was one less curiosity act that could draw in a crowd. Some carnivals dolled up their performers to pretend to have oddities, but Mistress Eliza wouldn’t be a part of that. Everything needed to be authentic.
Zephyr gently grasped Cricket’s arm and motioned his head toward outside. She let him lead her into the cool night breeze, where he circled his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Come to my caravan tonight?” he asked, his voice thick.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She smiled, ignoring the wretched part of herself that yearned to give in.
“Are you sure about that?” He lifted her chin, his eyes hooded as he peered down at her. “I don’t only want to know what your kiss feels like on my cheek, but on my lips, my neck, my chest, my stomach... I want you to feel what mine are like when I kiss you any damn where you please.”
“That kiss was all part of the performance.” Her cheeks warmed again, and she wished she could control that tell-tale sign of her lies. “Goodnight, Zephyr.”
“You’re flushed,” he said in a gruff voice. “I like that color on you. That I’m the one who put it there.”
Cricket tried not to glance back at him as she walked away, but she did, finding him fighting a grin. She whipped her head around and went toward the caravans. Juniper sat on the steps in front of her home, eating a caramel apple while she watched Stormy drink whiskey and spin beneath the moon near a small crackling fire. Her gaze never drifted to any of the other performers in that way. If Juniper hadn’t confessed the name of the woman she was attracted to, Cricket would’ve easily guessed it now. It was how her lips were parted and how her fingers dug into her dress as she continued studying Stormy.
“Try not to be so obvious about it unless you plan on telling her how you feel,” Cricket murmured in Juniper’s ear while crouching beside her. She thought about the first time she’d told Bram how she’d felt about him, the first time she’d ever confessed how she felt about any man. At first, Bram sputtered out his tea, but then he’d lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. However, his courting her hadn’t lasted…
“It’s not obvious.” Juniper’s eyes widened as she pinched her lips together.
“It very much is.” She shrugged.
“Stormy has been on and off with Louise for a long time. Tonight they’re off again. Louise slapped her over something and left.” Juniper blew out a breath, then took another bite of her apple.
Cricket arched a brow. “Sounds like they could remain off if a slap was involved. I say, go talk to her.”
Juniper stood from the stairs and fluffed her curls with her free hand. “I’m only going to warm myself by the fire.”
“Yes, just warming yourself by the fire. That’s all.” Cricket grinned, finding herself liking that she’d allowed herself to make a friend.
Juniper gave her a soft shove, then handed her the rest of her caramel apple before nearing the fire. Cricket took a bite of the perfectly sweet delicacy as she glanced up toward the sky—a feeling that had been nagging her since arriving in Nobel slithered back. She wondered, should she go into town and ask about the murders?
Chapter Six
Since last night had gone well, tonight’s act would require Cricket to perform more. The thought of dancing like she’d never done before sent a nervous thrill coursing through her.
A light knock sounded at the door as she finished curling her lashes. It wasn’t Zephyr coming to get her but Juniper dressed in black ruffled trousers and a shimmery ivory corset.
“Where’s Zephyr?” Cricket asked, peering past her but only spotting two performers practicing a routine on wooden stilts.
“So you would’ve rather had my brother come?” Juniper grinned, causing Cricket’s cheeks to flame. Such a tedious thing.
“I’m only teasing,” Juniper continued. “He’s backstage in one of the tents fixing loose floorboards. Arthur twisted his foot when he fell through one. Lucky he didn’t break it, or Mistress Eliza wouldn’t have been pleased.”