As a member of the Flying Galliers in the Carnival of Mysteries, Mario Gallier has remained an eternally young and carefree teenager for over a hundred years. When the Carnival stops for a time on a magic-sparse world, Mario finally meets a man for whom he wants to grow up. Unfortunately aging takes time, and the Carnival doesn’t linger anywhere for long.

Ilya Mirov was part of the greatest aerial straps duo in the world, but after losing his husband and partner Derek to cancer, he retired from performing to take a role as coach for the next great Circo Del Artes show, Capriccio. Yet men who are strong enough for the demands of the aerial straps are few and far between, and Ilya despairs of finding anyone who can handle his choreography.

Fate — and the Carnival — bring Mario back to Ilya’s world and to Circo Del Artes. Ilya is blown away by Mario’s talent and offers him a job. Elated, Mario believes he’ll have the chance to make Ilya see him as a man, not a child, and win Ilya’s heart at last.

Yet overcoming Ilya’s grief is only one hurdle in Mario’s way. Someone is preying on Circo’s paranormals, and Mario’s own hidden nature begins to surface. Ilya doesn’t believe in magic, and he doesn’t understand why Mario is driven to protect those who came from the Carnival. Dark forces press in from all sides, putting both Mario’s and Ilya’s lives at risk. Yet Mario knows that he alone can stop whoever is taking his friends, as well as find the killer who will stop at nothing to destroy both Mario and the man he loves.

Mario took a deep breath and followed his mother out of the room. She pointed him toward the door of the trailer, and he obediently went. As he approached the gate, he could see Errante in conversation with someone whose back was to Mario. But Mario knew at once it was Ilya, and his heart raced. He found himself moving quickly enough that he had to force himself to slow down.

“Ah, Mario, there you are,” Errante said. Ilya turned to look at Mario, and Mario managed a smile, even though he really wanted to blurt out a question about why Ilya was there.

“Here I am,” he said, then tilted his head at Ilya. “Mr. Mirov.”

Ilya was gazing at him intently, though his expression wasn’t one Mario could read. “Mr. Gallier,” he replied.

Errante laughed and shook his head. “So formal, the pair of you. Relax, I shall leave you to talk.” He gave a slight bow in Ilya’s direction. “I shall see you again.” With that, he departed.

Ilya inclined his head in polite acknowledgement before turning back to Mario. “He’s….” He paused, and Mario could see him struggling to find a word.

“Intense? Odd? Disturbing? Mesmerizing?” Mario supplied, amusement breaking through his curiosity at seeing someone as self-confident and forceful as Ilya being disconcerted by the Carnival master. It was a reaction that he’d witnessed almost every day for years.

“All of those,” Ilya replied, then seemed to shrug off the effects of Errante’s presence. “I am here to offer you a position with Circo perhaps.”

Mario blinked in surprise, but his heart beat sped up again. “Why only perhaps?”

“Because I wanted to see if you were truthful about being free to join Circo,” Ilya replied candidly. “I’ve seen more than one ‘family’ act that was a group of performers who were unrelated, and there were contracts involved. I don’t want someone coming to Circo who might end up involved in lawsuits or even simply engendering ill-will or bad publicity for the troupe. I have the good of the business to consider.”

It was a thought that Mario hadn’t considered, and why would he? He was telling the truth, but apparently this world of Ilya’s was less trusting of someone’s word. “Well, it was the truth, if you care to ask Errante. He owns the Carnival.”

“As I’ve already ascertained.” Ilya gestured to the Big Top. “This carnival is far older than I would have imagined for something I’d never heard of before, and I thought I knew all the best aerialists. I found references to it going back well over a century, but always by the same name — as well as to the talents of a family known as the Flying Galliers. There was even a Mario mentioned in a newspaper description of the show back in the 1840s. An ancestor, perhaps?”

Mario had to keep his mouth from falling open. Ilya had been doing his research, and it was the first time Mario had even considered that the Carnival might have left traces that could be followed. That he was mentioned was both flattering and a little alarming.

“Something like that,” Mario replied, finding his voice. He couldn’t blurt out the truth, of course, since he knew this world was magically dead — and there was no way Ilya would believe Mario had been performing for a hundred years before Ilya had even been born. And yet he was strangely reluctant to lie to Ilya. “My family has been performing with the Carnival for a long time. But I was honest in saying that I am free to go if I wish. Many people leave the Carnival for a time, then return when they wish. Errante believes in free will in ways you might not understand.”

Ilya regarded him thoughtfully. “Then I would like to offer you the position of Aerial Artist with Circo Del Artes. You failed to provide a salary requirement on the information form, but given your experience, I’ve been authorized to offer you very generous compensation, along with full benefits. Circo also has a relocation program to help you get settled, if you need it.”

Mario had no idea what compensation and benefits would amount to on this world, nor did he really care. A part of him wanted to leap at the offer, but Mario bit down the impulse. He needed to decide if leaving was worth any risk to himself or to his family. Or to Ilya, for that matter, even if the man wouldn’t be aware of it.

“Can I think it over?” he asked slowly.

“Why?”

Ilya frowned in what seemed to be annoyance, and Mario knew he had to come up with a reason, since the man had come all this way to be sure Mario was free and to make the offer. Yet he could hardly tell Ilya the truth — or not the whole of it, at least. “I’ll be honest, the Carnival was here a few years ago, and my brother took me to see the show. I even got to meet you afterward, but I was a kid. I guess I was sort of awestruck, and you barely noticed me. I probably shouldn’t take the job just to appease my childish vanity.”

“Take the job. You worry too much. Everything will be fine.”

The exasperated female voice startled him, and Mario whirled to find Amelia standing behind him. He’d been so intent on Ilya, he’d not heard her approach, which was alarming. She was Persephone’s assistant, and Mario was well aware of her abilities as a seer in her own right, which she had been mastering in the last few years since joining the Carnival.

“Amelia…” he said, somewhat embarrassed as he realized Ilya was staring at them.

“Don’t ‘Amelia’ me,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “Both Persephone and I have seen it. You’re going to take the job. I’m just sparing you waffling yourself into a swivet and wasting Ilya’s time.” With that, she nodded to Ilya and walked off without another word.

Ilya frowned. “How did she know?”

“She’s a seer,” Mario said, feeling awkward after Amelia made him seem like a five-year-old being scolded by his mother. “I’m sure you don’t believe in stuff like that. Sorry she stuck her nose in. She thinks of me like a kid brother she can boss around.”

“If her ‘prediction’ helps speed up your decision, then it’s a welcome intrusion,” Ilya replied, shrugging. He paused for a moment. “As you’ve been honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. Circo desperately needs people with the strength and ability to perform on the straps. Someone posted a video of your performance from two nights ago, and you’re good. I’ll even say very good. Straps have been a part of every Circo show since the beginning, and the audiences will complain loudly if we don’t have a duo. And it can’t be just any duo. They need to be strong. They need to be the best.”

“Then why aren’t you performing?” Mario asked, suddenly curious. “Did you get hurt? And what about your partner… um, Derek, wasn’t it? Will I be performing with him?” He supposed he hadn’t been as diligent with his online searches as Ilya had been, since he’d only cared that Ilya was still around, not what he was doing or why.

An unmistakable grimace of pain passed over Ilya’s features, but then the stoic expression Mario had noticed at the audition was back. “Derek passed away, and I no longer perform. I coach.” His tone was flat and final, obviously meant to forestall any more questions. Mario was sensitive enough to know when to back off.

“I’m sorry,” Mario murmured. Ilya was still looking at him, waiting, and he added, “All right, I’ll take the job. When am I supposed to start?”