The next morning we held a short funeral. The circus went on, only I was excused from my routines for the day. Naveen also took a day off, he said he’d help me find who killed my sister. He’d given me ideas of people that could’ve done it, suspects that I’d already planned on interrogating. Why would The Ringmaster have brushed off the scream as a few miscreants without actually knowing the true source? Marie was acting colder than usual that day. Tomas seemed extra jealous when our act was called first. Ramona always had petty clashes with us. Everyone became an outsider, I locked myself in with the lions– perfectly tame and docile. Nobody would look for me there, a safe haven from the killers of the outside.

Nobody found me but Naveen, like an older brother he hunched over, theatrically glancing side to side. Then whispered, despite being quite alone, save for the lions. 

“It was our Ringmaster,” He said solemnly, cold words contrasting with his posture, confident and sure of himself. But that was all the confirmation I needed, I fully trusted Naveen– nobody else in this world was safe. 

I dropped sandbags onto Mr. Norris Mortman, so that Manny could know the grief I felt, not enough weight to kill, but to cripple. Mortman’s son inherited the circus, and we work under him now. But I swear to everything my mother has sacrificed to me that I’d kill that man for her. Grief and rage and exhaustion from life  made me want to burn the circus down with everyone inside. The circus was still co-owned, of course, so I have to wait ‘till the old coot, Mr. Norris dies naturally to destroy it all. Or some other person, a cousin, maybe would inherit the circus next. And this wretched place would still stand. The injustice smithed my heart to black coal, only good to burn.

Magma broiled under my skin, burning resentment sent me marching to his quarters. He’d wish he never knew her. I don’t bother to knock, courage or cocky stupidity fueling me. 

“Oh, miss Castella, I wasn’t expecting–”

“I know what you did!” I shrilled, loud enough for half the circus to hear--no, half the continent. I wanted them to hear, I needed everybody to know what this wretch had done. 

“Pardon? I’m not sure I follow, was–”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! You killed my sister!” I waled. 

“Donatella, where did you draw this conclusion!?” he raised his palms slightly, as if trying to make me feel better before continuing. “Your sister’s death was an unfortunate incident, but I assure you I had nothing to do with it! What event prompted you to think this? What motive would I have had to assassinate one of our best performers?”

He had a point. I stepped back, guilt from accusing this innocent man shocked me in the chest. 

“I- I don’t understand! Naveen said that–”

“Naveen?” The vested man’s face paled, not for the initial reason I'd Expected. Before I could blink, a silver light was suddenly jagging past me. Straight into the ringmaster’s throat. I shrieked. Naveen was at the door, calmly approached the dying man.