Arabesque: A Wings Companion

Chapter Two

"And one, and two, and jump, and yes, very good. Higher, leaps, Rowen."

Rowen forced herself not to grind her teeth as her instructor corrected her once again. She didn't get noticeably more—or less—attention than anyone else in the corps, but often it seemed she was only called out for critique, and every five minutes at that. Her whole body ached from hours of practice and by the time the shadow of the sundial marked the end, she was ready.

The instructor clapped her hands and gave a few more pointers—none directed specifically at Rowen, this time—before setting them free. Any other day they would only have a short midday break, with sessions to resume in the afternoon, but today classes were cancelled for the ceremony.

Rowen groaned as she loosened the ribbons of her toe shoes and slid them off. She reached into her rucksack for a small pot of the Academy's healing and numbing salve and began rubbing it into her cracked, callused feet. The relief was almost instantaneous, but the massage still felt good. She needed to soak them in a bowl of fertilized water when she got home. Hopefully there'd be enough time. A few of the other dancers bade her farewell when they passed by on their way out of the studio, but Rowen scarcely heard them as she stuffed her shoes and shrugged on the straps of her pack.

Today was the day. She wished she were less nervous.

Opting to carry her sandals rather than wear them, Rowen headed out into the bright summer sunshine on tender bare feet. Her petals had finally fallen out last week, thank the goddess. As a Summer faerie she might have rendered them invisible, but her blossom was enormous and an illusion would only keep others from seeing it. Not feeling it. In the way was the least of what her huge petals would be. Besides, who wanted to spend all day concentrating on keeping their blossom out of sight? The timing was perfect and Rowen couldn't help but think of that as an omen.

The dance studio was in Summer, and despite the slow blending of the seasonal neighborhoods under the new Queen's reign, Rowen's grandmother, Rhoslyn, still lived in her big tree in Spring. So Rowen made the trek up the hill to Summer every day; at least when she was weary and spent she got to go downhill.

Grandmother. One of Tamani's words, borrowed from the humans, given to Rowen to ease her loneliness. Uncle Tamani—another human word. After the trolls had taken her parents, Tamani had given her the words so that she could claim her remaining family by names that marked them as hers. As far as she knew, she was the only faerie who used the human terms, but Tamani had been right—it did help her feel as though she had a place. She had a grandmother and an uncle; and she was a niece, and a granddaughter. It brought her a modicum of peace.

Many of the dancers streaming out of the large studio dispersed immediately to their homes in Summer, but others lined the path down the hill like ants, heading toward Spring. Almost half of the advanced corps were Spring faeries, now. There was even one Mixer who had opted out of her studies at the Academy and continued to pass all of her auditions to qualify as a full-time dancer. There were still many things only a Sparkler like Rowen could do—the Queen's putting an end to compulsory caste employment hadn't changed anyone's natural abilities—but no one was born with the ability to dance. Or, more importantly, the inability.

What surprised many of the Summer faeries, Rowen included, was how quickly some Spring faeries were able to match the skill of the Summer fae who had started training as soon as they were stable on their spindly sprout legs. Two years ago—the same year Rowen made it into the elite corps—the first Spring faerie had also passed. And last year the unimaginable became reality; three Summer faeries had been cut and replaced by Spring faeries. Most Sparklers accepted this as a challenge, a reason to work harder. But Rowen was already working her feet to their stems, trying and mostly failing to preserve the specialness of her personal life that had been slowly leeched away by circumstance. She put in more extra practice hours at open studio than any other elite dancer she knew. She wasn't at the bottom of the corps or anything, but she'd be blighted if she was ever going to let her status as a Summer faerie be torn away from her. Ever. Rowen would do anything—anything—to continue dancing.