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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The hollow pitter patter of rain on the canvas drew Leanna from the blackness of sleep. Her lids fluttered open. Above, shadowy marionettes waved across the ceiling, swaying a secret dance between threads of amber light. A few more blinks and their outline defined into the many butterfly wings of Ellie's tent. Leanna let out a slow breath and settled back into the pillows, her body suddenly heavy... and aware. Something had happened. Of that her throbbing mind was sure. Her limbs ached with this knowledge. But... what?
Leanna frowned. In searching her thoughts, there was only fog. She lolled her head sideways onto the pillow, toward the hearth across the room. Maybe the pure fire there would dispel this haziness in her mind.
The fog remained, but breathless, Leanna clutched the blankets as the sight before the flames burned at her composure. Damp hair tied back in a loose pony tail, undone cravat and mud speckled boots—Finvarra was there.
Leanna pressed her lips together, tears pricking her eyes. The desire to run to him, to touch him... heavens, just to feel him safe beneath her hands was overwhelming. In all her anger, in all the horrible things she'd learned of his past, it was the memory of him vanishing into the mist, the thought of never seeing him again that hollowed her soul.
Minerva sat opposite him, knitting at the winged back chair. Though the needles in her hand moved at a steady pace, pulling loop through loop, her face was turned up toward Finvarra who gazed down at the fire, his mind distant with thought.
"She will feel some lingering effects," she said to him. "But it's nothing a few hours of sleep can't fix."
Finvarra's shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath, as if not wanting to disturb the air with his exhale. He said nothing.
Minerva sighed, and her needles paused mid-loop. "Though her heart was weak, it has grown stronger... she has grown stronger," she said, her voice stern as if willing him to understand. "Do not fear for her. It will do none of us any good."
The muscles of Finvarra's jaw tightened, but he kept to his silence. Lowering blue eyes from the fire, he looked to his hand. Dangling from his pale fingers was a crystal necklace.
As if hypnotized by this glinting pendulum, Leanna froze. Images of crabs and poisonous needles tore through the fog in her mind, chased by memories of falling pixies and necklaces. Her heart pounded. Something had happened, indeed!
Minerva turned round at once. Meeting Leanna's gaze, she set aside her knitting and rose. A smile curved her lips, though sadness haunted her once stoic black eyes.
The movement snatched Finvarra from his daze. Blue eyes fixed on Leanna's instantly. And around them, the world failed to turn. She didn't breathe. Neither did he. Finvarra only slid his sights along her, slowly, as if wishing to ascertain her well-being with one look. Meeting her eyes again, he stared, eyes alit with strength. But beneath his mask, was worry... worry for her. Warmth radiated from Leanna's core, swelling in her chest.
