Born with a damaged heart, Leanna Weston has lived a sheltered life with little chance at adventure. When she hears that Finvarra's Circus is coming to her small town, she sneaks off to witness the magic first hand, sure that this is her only chan...
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THE WAY THROUGH ABBEY FORREST was long, and the night was cold. Creatures of the night rustled in the passing thickets, and branches cast frightening shadows on the ground that looked to be dusted with powdered sugar, or so thought a famished Leanna. But she heard very little through her chattering teeth and grumbling stomach. She saw even less, as her eyes were fixed solely on the black and red round top tent that peeked through the trees a slight distance away.
A slicing pang in her chest tripped her feet, and Leanna crashed back onto the damp bark of a tree, winded. Her heaving breaths bellowed cloud figures before her eyes, eyes which Leanna closed in attempts to steady her heart.
You should have stayed home, the little voice in the back of her mind whispered. You weren't ready for such a feat. But you can't go back home now. You will die here, cold and alone...
In all her years, Leanna had never ventured past the back gardens of the Weston Estate, much less through the dense forests separating Winter Abbey from the nearest town, Leon. Now she was past both places, and her chest tightened more with each jagged breath. It was too late to turn back. She wouldn't ever make it. Yet, even if she could, in seeing the canvas dome through the tree tops, Leanna pushed off the tree with a gruff grunt.
"I won't ever turn back," she breathed to the surrounding forest, and to her scornful conscience whose voice evaporated into curled puffs of white smoke and night.
Now hidden in the nearby shrubbery on the outskirts of Grover's Field, Leanna eyed the meadow generally.
"That's peculiar," she said to no one at all. "There are no gates surrounding the field. Doesn't Finvarra fear someone will come along and steal his performances?"
Leanna craned her neck over the bush. There were also no watchmen. All there was were strange triangular crystals tied to the end of spikes shooting from the ground. The white rocks, fastened with thick rope onto wooden spears, were the most peculiar of all. They were a curious adornment, and following their trail, they ran along the outer edge of the circus. From what Leanna could see, they seemed to form a perfect circle around the field.
Perhaps they are enchanted in some way to keep trespassers out? Leanna wondered. They did look magical enough. Her throat dried at the thought. What if they were all seeing eyes looked after by witches, or Finvarra himself? Leanna was shaking now. Her bitter half held fast to this fear and also offered, what if they are cursed and they turn you into a frog? Or worse, a beetle?
Leanna wrinkled her nose. That would be unfortunate.
But remembering the necklace around her neck, the ticket in her pocket, and the desires of her heart, Leanna knotted her hands and moved closer to the magical stakes.
She swallowed deeply and whispered to the crystals, "Now, you may be magical, or maybe I am saying this to appease my own conscience, but I am no trespasser. I have a ticket from Finvarra himself, and this necklace." Leanna withdrew the ticket from her pocket and held it up to the nearest crystal at eye level. She then shifted her shawl aside and angled herself toward the patches of moonlight so the all-seeing crystals could have a clear view of the necklace.
