Hours later, somewhere between a setting moon and a looming sun, Leanna burrowed into Kioyo's cloak, her sights and steps focused on the Big Top. The gentle giant stood tall, the bluish gray of the coming day softening its edges, making it appear more like a dream.
A dream. Leanna stifled a yawn. She had slept a good while, or at least she thought so. Though tear induced—as her sleep often was—this slumber had been different. The circus' timelessness was affecting her, for it felt like she'd slept for days straight when in reality no more than few hours had passed, if that many at all.
Unaffected, however, were the nightmares—the visions that began guised simply as sounds in the dark. First, the odd squeaks and moans of hinges in need of oil slipped into her dreams, accompanied by the sharp little taps and rasps of a faceless monster whose legs scuttered about in a hurry. Then came the voices, feminine and urgent... scared. Their cries became curdling screams that washed images of blood over the darkness of Leanna's dreams. So vivid, she could taste the metallic warmth. When the voices subsided, the eyes appeared—vacant eyes that though a different shade each time, always stared into the same nothingness of death. With the taps and rasps, the invisible monster then faded from Leanna's dreams, leaving nothing but despair in its wake.
But whereas she often grieved for these ghosts of her nightmares, that morning when Leanna woke, she forced all thoughts of blood and death, of Finvarra and illicit kisses from her mind. She doused her worries with the melody of Ellie's dance. The gentle tune on her lips, Leanna envisioned a dancing Kioyo in the various shades of night within her tent, swaying between the deep blacks of the shadows and the hazy blue light coming from the skylight above. In this private haunt, under the stars watchful eyes, Leanna followed Kioyo's ghost, mirroring every extension, every lift and twirl until finding some semblance of grace and peace in her movements.
Pleased with her progress, she now relished in the mildness of morning that draped her skin with cool dew. Against all that had happened the previous night with Finvarra, against the horrible dreams, Leanna closed her eyes and let this calmness infuse her, gentle as changing seasons.
Opening her eyes, she stopped abruptly. A fork in the road. The right path led past Finvarra's tent, and straight to the Big Top. The left travelled beyond the cookhouse and traversed the performer's tents—a much longer way.
Leanna gazed right, at Tomas standing before Finvarra's door. And behind him, an illuminated tent. Something within Leanna dimmed, echoing a sudden loneliness. It was silly, Leanna knew this, but in the mere days they'd known one another, she liked to imagine she'd found in Finvarra a mirror of her own loneliness, someone who understood what it was to live with a cursed heart.
Shaking her head, Leanna let out a smoky breath and retrieved her mother's brooch from her pocket. She would have worn it, but in no way did she wish to upset Kioyo by adorning his cloak. She gazed down to the glass eyes on the small crab, twinkling like stars in her palm. Though a strange looking thing, each quiet tick within the metal crustacean made her feel a little less alone. In her current state, a little went a long way.
With a reassuring squeeze, Leanna slid the small crab into her pocket. Her gaze lingering right, Leanna started down the left path.
Reaching the Big Top, Leanna slid her eyes along it slowly; free to appreciate every stitch, free to marvel at every painted symbol on the canvas. She smoothed a hand along the rough fabric, tracing the vine like ciphers upon it. A like smile twisted her lips. It was a dream, indeed. A dream come true. Lost to this fascination, Leanna blindly entered, then admiring the fireflies that hovered high past the tight wire like ever-changing constellations.
The band tuned their instruments—a moan here, the pitter patter of the piano there. They were readying, yet when Leanna gazed away from the fireflies— from hitching a wish upon their wings—she saw the rings were empty. That was unfortunate, as she really would have liked to see another act. Leanna frowned.
More troublesome, Kioyo was not there. Leanna turned out to the gleaming vapors rolling over the fairgrounds, at the tents in the distance. Her frown deepened. One of the tents had to be Kioyo's, but which?
"Excuse me, Miss," came a voice from behind. Leanna whirled to find Vicente waving her over with a thick hand. She looked over her shoulder, but clearly he spoke to her, and so she approached.
Vicente met her at the foot of the stage and formally bowed. Peppered strands sprinkled over kind brown eyes. "I don't think we have had the honor of introducing ourselves," he said kindly, and presented himself and his five member band. They looked to be of Romani descent, and this warmed Leanna's heart. A gypsy caravan had once travelled through the outskirts of Winter Abbey, and with her Papa away, Mrs. Weston had taken Leanna and her sisters to see them in the outer fields where they were camping. Of all things, Leanna remembered their music the most and seeing Vicente there brought the memory present to her mind. She smiled a genuine, heart stirring smile.
Introductions complete, Vincent said, "If you have a moment, I would very much like for you to hear this." He walked back to his small stool, and retrieved a polished violin. "You see, I saw your difficulties yesterday and know what the problem is."
Leanna cringed with a wry chuckle. "That I'm a lousy dancer?"
Vicente gave her a sympathetic smile. "No, little Sidhe. The problem is that the song from yesterday was not written for you, and thus you could not connect." He put a hand to his heart, bow in hand. "When I compose a song for a performer and their act, I must see them and feel their spirit. After seeing you dance yesterday, I saw you. I saw your spirit." Brown eyes gleamed with keen joy. "I saw your song."
Appreciation left Leanna winded, stunned. "Oh, I am very grateful, b-but the routine from yesterday is not mine. It was Ellie's old act. Surely you don't have to trouble yourself to compose a song for me."
Vicente's brows gathered and his eyes grew distant with understanding. "Then you have two problems, my dear. Perhaps you could not bond with the routine because it was the wrong song, and the wrong dance." He nodded to himself. "Yes, yes, that is it. Listen, and let your heart decide what is right."
Leanna opened her mouth. She closed it, and smiled graciously. How could she refuse Vicente when he'd worked so hard on her song? Surely her mother had taught her better than that.
Vicente lifted a hand, and in queuing the band, he closed his eyes. A count, and the trickling keys of the piano. The violin eased in slowly, underscored by the fullness of the cello. The remaining instruments joining, a minuet ensued. Gentle and haunting, each note dragged out in pained moans that slowly blurred the edges of Leanna's sight. Fogginess rolled into her mind on the repetitions of c-notes, possessing her joints as if intoxicated by the intervals.
Leanna closed her eyes to hear—to feel more of this ethereal song. It was there, in the dark, that images of ghostlike movements whispered through her mind, a gorgeous routine Leanna had never seen, much less performed. Still, she could see herself in the wisps of silvery smoke, dancing as Vicente's melody played on.
Lost to this ghost of her mind, Leanna let out a slow breath that blew her away from the shores of reality. Expanding her hands out to her sides, she swayed in short waves that rolled from her fingertips to shoulders to hips. Whereas previously emotions streamed from her eyes as tears, in a way that hadn't happened in many years, they now poured from her body in dance. A routine that came to her as naturally as a breath.
The violin whined, and Leanna arched east toward beliefs and dreams. The cello replied, and wants and regrets dragged her west. Curving back, Leanna found the memories of her family. Straightening slowly, she met the mirage of a Ringmaster's kiss. Leanna withered into a pirouette that sent this world whirling around her until all her thoughts became one—one cage, imprisoning her as she turned and turned and turned. She pushed out her hands to the spaces around her and retracted them in quick movements, as if touching the walls of this cage, only each bar burned her fingers.
The keys stroked at largo and Leanna stopped. She stretched her arms at her sides, wishing to extend the pain and confusion of her life to the farthest reaches of the earth. Slowly, she painted the air with long strokes of longing, across oceans of loneliness. And though she fluttered like a bird on pointe; weighed down by the burdens of her heart, her feet never left the ground. Gathering her hands at her broken heart, she bent forward, withering... fading.... dying.... never having found flight.
Lifeless, Leanna's hand fell away.
Incomplete, her dance came to an end.
Slowly the ghostly images bowed into the dark recesses of her mind. Abandoned on the shores of reality, on the saw dusted floor of the circus, Leanna simply stood alone as by and by the song faded to silence.
Opening her eyes, the world gradually gained color and shape. First into focus was Vicente. He gazed at her in the uncertain quiet, a smile of wonder on his lips.
"Has your heart decided, dear girl?" he asked gently, as if fearing that any louder and Leanna would dissolve.
After a second, Leanna put a hand to her heart. Finding no words, she nodded as a tear spilled.
Vicente's worry dissipated to a contagious laugh shared by the entire band. He clapped a hand on his thigh with a loud pat "Perfect! Then it is to be your song, little Sidhe—the Leanan's Minuet. A gift, from us to you."
"Thank you," she breathed, unable to form a coherent thought or frame a proper sentence. "It was magical, and the dance—oh, it was—"
"Not our routine." Leanna turned to find Kioyo standing a measure away, arms crossed over his chest and traces of various emotions painted on his face. He raked damp black strands away from his face, meeting her eyes at perfect balance.
Leanna's heart sunk and she neared him a little. "I know that wasn't your dance. And I should have been rehearsing Ellie's old routine. But," Leanna cupped her mouth, a light giggle breaking through her fingers. She must have looked mad, but she didn't care. "I couldn't help it," she rambled, her nerves still reeling from the phantasm dance. "I couldn't not do it. It just came and I-I don't know what possessed me, but it was—"
"It was beautiful." Kioyo's expression finally settled on awe. Leanna realized then he wasn't angry, rather shocked, as was she. He met her rest of the way, his wonder bowing out to excitement with every step. "It was inspired. It is what you are meant to dance and you've got to perform it! We must show the Ringmaster at once—"
"No!" Leanna cried. Her heart hitched and thrust her forward. Conscious of how she now held his hand, digging her nails into his skin; Leanna released Kioyo and stepped back. She smoothed out her dress as if trying to soothe the fire in her face. "I mean, it's hardly a routine. I-I don't know what it was and I... no, let's just forget it."
"But it's spectacular—"
"Kioyo, please." Leanna bit her lip, remembering the previous night. Heavens, there was no way she could see Finvarra. Perhaps he didn't even want to see her. "It was a silly dance that isn't even finished, and I don't know if I'd be able to do it again. We'd best not bother him with it. I'm sure he has more important things to worry over than some unfinished routine."
"But—"
"Please."
Kioyo's brows knit together, suspicion marking his eyes. "If you insist," he said carefully after a moment, still unconvinced. Staring at her for an added minute, he jerked his head toward the ladder while starting toward it. Relieved he didn't prod any more, Leanna fell into step beside him.
"One thing I will insist on, however, is on the name of the song," Kioyo said, his focus straight ahead. "You must change it to Leanna's minuet, not the Leanan's minuet."
Leanna blinked. "Why? It's a fitting name, considering I am supposed to be her... somehow."
Kioyo stopped at the gallery seats and took off his coat. "And do you believe you are her?"
Leanna undid the tie of her cloak in silence, in thought. Sliding it off, she draped it over the gallery seat, still quiet. She shrugged. "I don't know. Finvarra seems to think I am." Recalling his confession, she blushed. "He's quite positive about it, actually."
Kioyo turned to Leanna. "This isn't about the Ringmaster. It's about—" He cut himself off, his sights caught on her wardrobe—the same from the previous night.
"It's about..." Leanna encouraged, but Kioyo just shook his head.
"Forget it. It's nothing," he said somewhat sharply and waved his hand feebly, making for the ladder.
Leanna was not ready to let it go. "If it's nothing, then why do you look so concerned?"
Kioyo paused. He smoothed the back of his neck and with an exhale, his shoulders lowered. When he turned, there were many things in those dark eyes: worry, regret, but most of all, disappointment. "Look, I don't know what changed since the last practice, but your dance just now was nothing like what I saw from you yesterday. And you never came back last night after seeing Finvarra, while clearly," he gestured to her clothing, "you haven't seen Minerva. It's none of my business and you don't need to explain anything to me, but—"
Leanna gasped, the pieces of Kioyo's fragmented ramble piecing together in her mind. "Surely you're not implying that I—that Finvarra and I—that we—oh heavens!" Leanna pressed a cool palm to her flushed cheek, barely able to say the words. "Nothing happened, and for you to say that—you have no right!" she said archly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Kioyo neared her, cradling her shoulders. Meeting her offended gaze, he deflated. "I'm sorry, Leanna. That was wrong of me and I didn't mean to upset you. I just... something has changed. Something within you has changed, and the way you just danced proves that. But as beautiful as it was, and as strong as you've proven yourself to be, you must be careful."
Kioyo let out a harsh breath and dropped his hands from her shoulders. "I've seen girls, so many girls of exceeding beauty and strength fall under his spell." Sitting down, he leaned forward onto his elbows, shaking his head solemnly. "I stayed quiet then—we all did, but I don't want the same fate for you. Sadly, a broken heart can still be broken."
Leanna sat beside Kioyo slowly, silent. So many other girls...
Of course a man like Finvarra would have droves of willing women, beautiful women fawning over him... wanting him. Leanna knew this. But the thought was vexing, and not knowing why it bothered her was most vexing of all.
"I don't mean to upset you more, but I'd like to consider you a friend, and so whether you are or aren't the Leanan Sidhe, as your friend I tell you this—take care. Regardless of what the Ringmaster thinks, when you're up there on that rope, you must do it for yourself and no one else. Other people can let you down and it is you who will suffer the fall."
Kioyo raked a hand through his hair, struggling to frame the right words, to explain as clearly as he could that, "The Ringmaster— he is a good boss, but if he believes in or wants something, he will do anything to prove his point and attain it." He gazed around the Big Top with palpable shame and guilt. "Something as big as this circus, to something as small as..." Kioyo trailed off, musing for an example.
But Leanna knew of an example: something as big as a declaration, to something as small as a kiss. She gnawed at her lower lip. A kiss Finvarra had almost given her. Not because she was special, no. After all, there had been other girls... so many other girls. His intended kiss was only to prove his point—that she was asleep, and that she needed to awaken in order to give him what he wanted: freedom. Leanna's stomach soured. Once again, she'd been fooled by him.
Kioyo stood, tearing her from thought. "What I'm saying is that the name of the song is wrong because regardless of what myth is rumored to be housed within you, it is you—Leanna— that will be dancing. It is your passion alone that will carry you across that rope. The song is not for the Leanan Sidhe, but for you. You will be magnificent." He extended a hand to her.
Leanna stared at the open hand for a long moment. Through the shame and disappointment in Finvarra—in herself, she realized that Kioyo did not believe she was the Leanan Sidhe. But he believed in her, and that was the greatest gift of all.
Sliding her hand into his, Leanna rose. "Thank you," she replied quietly, her gaze never failing. Kioyo nodded, averting his face to the ladder, but not before Leanna saw crimson creep beneath his golden complexion.
"Very well then," he cleared his throat, bringing her hand to his arm. He patted it gently. "We will have to work harder today seeing as we have few days for you to dominate the routine and rope. You may even think me cruel and evil," he teased which made Leanna smile.
Ease was short-lived as Kioyo stopped abruptly. Tension waved through him— a contagious, slow poison that devoured Leanna's smile. He tilted his ear to the air, his gaze narrowed and alert.
One moment, they were both standing side by side, Leanna watching Kioyo as his brows gathered, dissecting this distant sound. The next, she was enveloped in his arms being twirled away from a furious galloping that overtook the sound waves around them.
Kioyo released Leanna and whirled her behind him fluidly as if a dance—one of protection against this surge of anger and violence. His body was hot to the touch, burning through Leanna's muslin. Still, she stayed close, her heart beating wildly at his back.
"Where is she?" Krinard's voice came into focus through the delicate sounds of the band's music that then shattered to a chaotic end. He galloped around them, his powerful frame taut and threatening.
Kioyo did not waver. Expertly, he shifted from one foot to another in crossed motions, weightless, while guarding Leanna, who mirrored his steps behind him. "Where is who?" Kioyo snarled, his voice huskier and full, closer to a purr that rumbled beneath Leanna's fingers. He grew hotter, returning Krinard's feral stare measure for vicious measure.
Krinard whipped his head angrily, black strands billowing like whips castigating the air. "Inara is gone! She is nowhere within the crystals—where did you take her?"
Leanna opened her mouth when she realized—"Gone?" she repeated dumbly, staring at the fuming centaur. Leanna shook her head to gather her wits. "I-I don't know where she is, but m-maybe she's gone to Forever?" she offered weakly, knowing deep down this was not the case.
Krinard stalked around them, never losing focus of Leanna. "Her snows did not come, so she was taken and you did it, snake! I smelled your black magic all over our tent. Inara denied it, but I know you were there. Where did you take her?"
Leanna searched her mind for an answer, but Inara and Gone were the only words she could process through the nauseating numbness crippling her stomach. No longer able to deny it, Leanna shut her eyes against memory of the previous night. She'd told Inara to ride, in spite of them all. Oh, but she never imagined Inara would run away—literally!
Krinard's hooves stomped into the ground, an obvious desire to grind Leanna into the very earth. "Move aside, clown, and make yourself useful. Run and tell Fionnbharr that either she tells me where Inara is, or I won't be the only one losing a mate!"
"Why not tell me yourself?"
Leanna stiffened at the voice. She opened her eyes to sight of Finvarra approaching, his iciness intact like his perfectly tied cravat. Tomas and Bertrand walked alongside him, and at his back, the three remaining centaurs.
Through the distance, Leanna caught Finvarra's eyes and for a brief moment, he looked at her, his stare saying I told you so.
Indeed. He had told her visiting Inara would only bring trouble, and it had.
Worse, he had also told her she would be the death of him. But with Inara gone, and the fate of the crystals unknown, Leanna realized that there was a chance she would not only be the death of him. She would be the death of them all.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-*~-*~-*~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) Votes and comments are greatly appreciated!