Carnival of Secrets by Melissa Marr

door only partway. At first, she simply stared at him, a pistol clutched in the hand she kept out of sight. “Kaleb?”
    “Hello.”
    “What are you . . .? I mean . . . Hi .” She paused almost imperceptibly before asking, “How did you know where I live?”
    “I was passing by one day, and I saw you going inside, so I took a chance.” Kaleb did his best to look harmless. “Are you busy?”
    “No, not right now.” Mallory ducked her head briefly and whispered something he couldn’t hear.
    He suspected that she was allowing him entry into her home and wondered briefly if humans had become more aware of magic or if some meddling witch had warded her house. How much does she know? He couldn’t think of any way to ask her that without alarming her, and he didn’t think that tipping her to what he knew was in his best interest. Whether he killed her or delivered her to The City, he’d need to gain her full trust to do it. Asking if her house was warded wouldn’t do that.
    “Do you want to come in?” she asked aloud.
    “I do,” Kaleb said.
    “We’re moving, so there’s no furniture, but if you want . . . unless you weren’t really staying. I mean . . .” Her words trailed off and her hand went to the stone that hung on a cord around her neck.
    He’d seen such amulets in the possession of Watchers. The stones helped keep a daimon healthier, giving them strength that was stored in the stones. The Watchers’ tolerance of witches made them more trusting of stronger spells. The combination of her amulet and the wards made sense; a Watcher must have hidden Mallory and paid for the wardings on her and on the house.
    “I’d like to stay.” He smiled, but the expression was ruined by a wince of pain as he stepped into the house. He grabbed the kitchen counter. “Sorry.”
    “Are you okay?” She whispered something hurriedly again and then put her hand on his biceps. “Kaleb?”
    They both froze for a moment when she touched him. It wasn’t until she retracted her hand that he could say, “I’m fine.”
    He focused his attention on her, and she looked away—not fast enough that he missed the interest in her eyes. She was so different from the daimons he’d met in The City. They’d made no secret of their interest, but tried to hide fear or worry. Mallory tried to hide her interest, but had no qualms showing that she worried.
    A small sound of pain escaped, but he tried to turn it into a laugh before he said, “Just a minor injury. One of my matches went a little wild.”
    She’d been clear on what she thought when he’d told her previously that he was a fighter, so he wasn’t surprised when she said, “Boxing is barbaric.”
    “I know. Today, I really know.” He winced at both the pain and the extent of what he’d hidden, what she’d eventually know he’d hidden if she was brought to The City instead of killed. It was peculiar to care what she thought, but he did. He didn’t want her to know that when he said he boxed, he really meant he fought to the death; or that when he said he was away at school, he meant away in another world. He’d tried to find close approximations of the truth when he told her about himself, but some things had no human equivalent.
    “I don’t have anywhere for you to sit.” She looked around her barren house. “Everything was sent out already. The movers left a few hours ago.”
    He smiled at the thought of not only bringing her to The City, but of seeing her in his home, of having a new home—one furnished to him as winner of Marchosias’ Competition.
    “What?” She couldn’t look away from him, and he heard the flicker of fear in her voice.
    “Do you know what would make me feel better, Mallory?” He stepped close enough to her that the edge of his shirt brushed against hers.
    Mutely, she shook her head, but she didn’t flee.
    He leaned down until their lips were nearly touching.
    She parted her lips to say something, but he kissed her before she could