As we stepped into what I could only guess was one of the abandoned carts, sound and life crashed over me like a wave—music from a fiddle, the rhythmic thump of boots on wooden floorboards, and the hum of voices tangled in laughter and gossip. The air smelled of sweat, smoke, and spilled ale—reckless, forbidden, alive.

But as quickly as it had filled the air, the noise began to die. I didn’t have to see it to know the reason. Conversations faltered. Laughter thinned. The shift in the air told me every head had turned my way. Whispers slid like blades between the notes of the music, soft but sharp, as people stared.

The twins stepped in closer. I could feel their presence like two distinct fires—one warm and bright, the other cool and controlled. The heat of their bodies brushed against my shoulders, their scent a strange mix of smoke, spice, and something that always reminded me of lightning before a storm. Each placed a steadying hand on my back, and it took everything in me not to melt into their touch, to let them shield me from the stares.

“Maybe I should go,” I whispered, my throat tight.

One of them leaned down, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear, sending an involuntary shiver through me.

“You’re fine,” Phyx murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “As long as you stay with us.”

He didn’t give me a chance to argue. The next moment, his voice dropped into a growl that vibrated through his chest. “What are you looking at?”

The sound of it silenced the crowd instantly. The murmurs cut off mid-word. Conversations resumed in forced tones. The music stumbled, then picked back up. I could breathe again, though my pulse still raced.

But something else was missing. I turned my head slightly, frowning. “Where did Stych go?”

“Don’t know,” Blaze said after a moment. “He locked eyes with someone and just bolted.”

My chest tightened. “Maybe I should go after him.” I turned to leave, already half-rising, but strong hands caught me by the arms.

“Not happening,” Blaze said, his tone firm but not unkind. He and Phyx guided me down until I was seated. The bench beneath me was rough, the scent of old wood and ale thick in the air.

“What do you expect me to do here?” I asked, frustration creeping in. “It’s not like I can see anything, and no one’s exactly dying to talk to m—”

The words died on my tongue.

Because then—

I heard it.

A voice. Familiar. Deep, smooth, and threaded with warmth that struck somewhere deep in my chest. My breath caught as my heart stuttered. For a second, the sounds of the cart—the chatter, the fiddle, even the thumping of boots—blurred into nothing but that voice.

It couldn’t be—

“Is something wrong, Nix?” Phyx asked, concern coloring his tone.

Before I could respond, another voice—his voice—spoke again. “She’s looking for me.”

I gasped, my body reacting before my mind caught up. I turned sharply toward the sound and nearly stumbled straight into him. “Night!”

He caught me with a soft laugh, arms wrapping around me in the same way they used to when the world was too much. “Hello, little N,” he murmured, his chest rumbling with amusement. “It’s been too long.”

When he pulled back, his nose brushed against mine—gentle, familiar. The small gesture pulled a giggle from me before I could stop it. For a heartbeat, I wasn’t the performer with too many expectations or the blind girl fighting to keep her place. I was just the scared child who used to hide behind this man’s shadow for comfort.

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the spell. A low, deliberate noise from one of the twins. Their warmth was still near, but now something sharp—possessiveness—edged it.

“Shouldn’t you introduce us, Nix?” Blaze’s tone was casual, but his voice carried the hint of a challenge.

I stepped back slightly from Night, feeling the tension ripple in the air between all three of them. “Phyx, Blaze,” I said softly, “this is Night. Night, these are Phyx and Blaze.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence stretched thin.

Then I felt the twins move again—closer. Their heat flanked me from both sides, and though they didn’t touch me this time, the pressure of their presence was unmistakable. The tension was alive again, humming and coiling tight in the space between them.

I didn’t need sight to know that something unspoken was passing between the three men—something heavy and territorial. And though I couldn’t see their faces, I could feel the weight of it pressing against my skin, like static before lightning.

And I couldn’t help but wonder…

Why they care so much.

******

When Phyx and I brought Nix here, we had expected no one to want to talk to her, much less that she’d walk in with another male—and recognize someone in the crowd. The plan was simple: stay close, maybe get her a drink or two, help her ease into the chaos of the circus crowd.

Stych was already gone by then. I hadn’t lied when I told her he’d locked eyes with someone and bolted. However, I was too focused on Nix to see who made him move fast. Then, out of nowhere, she practically jumped into another man’s arms.

We’d seen Night around before, though not often. He wasn’t one of the performers anymore. Once, the ringmaster wanted to discard him—called him useless because the only thing he could do was glow in the dark. A living lantern, that’s all he was to them. But he went into hiding years ago, and the ringmaster eventually forgot him. Star had been using him since then as a quiet go-between for messages.

I’d never had any issues with him before. He was harmless, really. But watching him hold Nix like that—his arms tight around her small frame, her body relaxing instantly against him—did something to me. Something sharp and ugly. The jealousy that rose inside me came so suddenly that I almost didn’t recognize it. My pulse kicked up, my jaw locked, and for a second, I wanted to rip him away from her.

Phyx must’ve felt my muscles tense because he spoke before I could open my mouth.

“Why don’t we sit down? You can come with us, Night. You and Nix might want to catch up.”

Night’s tone was soft, regretful. “I can’t. There’s something I need to do.”

He wrapped his arms around her once more, holding her close. She clung to him as if she were afraid to let go.

“Wait,” she said, voice trembling. “I just learned you were alive, and now you have to go? Why?”

His voice gentled further. I could hear the smile in it. “It’s okay, little N. You’ll see me again.”

Then he leaned in, brushing his nose against hers—a gesture so intimate it made my chest tighten. She let out a tiny, broken breath before releasing him. I could almost hear the ache in her silence as he slipped away into the crowd.

I stepped closer, letting my hand rest on her back again. Her skin was warm beneath the thin fabric of her dress, and even though she couldn’t see me, she leaned slightly toward my touch as if she needed something solid to hold on to.

“Phyx is right,” I murmured. “We should sit. You can tell us how you know Night.”

“It’s not much of a story,” she said, though her tone betrayed that it meant something to her.

We led her toward a quieter part of the cart, away from the laughter and drunken shouts. The air there smelled of old wood and sweet wine, the floor vibrating faintly underfoot from the music outside. We sat her down on a cushioned bench, and Phyx and I took our places on either side of her, close enough that our legs brushed hers.

“Come on,” Phyx coaxed, voice light but curious. “Spill.”

She huffed softly. “As I said, it’s not really that much of a story. Night and I came to the circus at the same time. I was afraid of the dark back then—used to cry myself to sleep every night. The ringmaster got sick of hearing it and stuck me with Night since, well, he glowed. I’m the one who gave him his name.”

Phyx frowned slightly. “Why Night? Why not Glow?”

She smiled, small but genuine. “Well, don’t tell him I told you, but it’s not just Night. It’s NightLight.”

Phyx and I both bit back a laugh. “That’s… uh, creative,” he managed, his voice shaking with amusement.