8 - Say Hello To Goodbyes
Rehearsals blurred the next few days in the circus, and each passing day gave Danae more hope that perhaps their debut performance in Lithewall would be as good as Ferran had hoped it would be. And as each day passed and she grew to know the entire troupe, she realized that whatever she had witness that night with Vincent had been the least of what the cirque could do.
She watched each of her friend's performances, and her awe for their skills and magic remained long after they had completed their act. Her eyes had pursued the trapeze artists who swung and leapt high above the ground as the glitter that trailed their path drifted to the ground in a slow, celestial dance.
She had watched the clowns throw the troupe into peals of delighted laughter as they each fell off their unicycles, got back up and toppled once more, and yet, for the umpteenth time, climbed to their feet and tried again.
She had watched from the sidelines as the contortionists twisted and turned their bodies with the music, each move elegant, each move yearning for the chance to show the audience that they too, have the skills it required to join this magical circus.
And most of all, she had studied Lucas' act and watching longingly as he danced with Erelieva in the most impressive performance of all.
But she had her own act to worry about, and day in and day out, Lucas coached her with the help of Lea's friends.
"That's it," he coaxed one night as they resumed their practice after a hearty dinner that Gérard had placed before her. Now, she sat astride her horse, tracing her fingers along Nyala's midnight coat, but her thoughts were a thousand leagues away, with the boy she had left to join this circus. She had not had the chance to talk to him. The pang that cut her heart let her shut her eyes with the thought that she had pushed to the back of her mind for days at a time: I miss you, Vince.
"Danae, are you listening to me?" Frustration colored Lucas' voice as he, for the hundredth time, discovered that she was not paying attention.
Danae looked up as in her mind, Nyala said, Dreaming again, are you?
She stroked her snout. No, thinking, she thought.
"Danae!" Lucas' voice was evidently furious now. Her head snapped up to meet his golden eyes. He sighed and ran a hair through his dark hair as something in his expression softened and grew tender. "Please, Danae, our debut is in two days. We need you to be perfect."
Guilt ripped through her. "Sorry, Lucas," she muttered, but her mind was still wrapped around her best friend. Regardless, she listened to the ethereal music that danced in the Big Top, feeling the magic of the song envelope her soul. She knew what she was meant to do perfectly, birthed of days of listening to Lucas and the riders—Isa, Denise and Lorraine.
And they practiced, over and over, again and again in the same routine. It was instantly obvious Danae was a good rider, so flawless was her synchronisation with Nyala as together, they performed Lea's old routine. She relished the feeling of being free atop her mare. But there was another reason for the enthusiasm at which she threw herself into the practices and rehearsals.
Each night, she returned to her tent, her lashes shut. A full day of rehearsals kept the dreams away, and repelled the pain of her yearning for Vincent, the pain she knew would be reflected upon his face every second she was away from him.
And yet, she found no reason to leave the circus and return to him. Life in the Circus of Dreams was wonderful, captivating, as she watched the magic that surrounded the troupe, and now, herself.
"Danae," Lucas said warningly. She sighed in response and slid off Nyala, landing lightly.
"I'm sorry, Lucas. I can't concentrate, not now," she replied apologetically.
He caught the vexation that was easily discernible beneath her vindication. His brows creased with worry as abandoning their practice, he walked forward to meet her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied instantly, an instinctual reaction to his question.
Lucas nodded, but the look that hung on his face was dubious. "Right. Now what's wrong?"
Danae's words did not have a chance to escape her throat, for at that moment, Renner pushed past the tent flaps and into the Big Top. Her face fell as she descried the torminous expression that was mirrored on Ferran's face as he followed his guard into the tent. No, the word replaced the chagrin in her thoughts. Please, not again.
"Ferran?" Lucas' voice was tight. "What happened?"
Her prayer was not answered, and the words that Ferran spoke threw her mind and heart into even more turmoil and agony.
"Erelieva," he breathed her name. "She's dead."
"What?" Danae gasped, a sound that was reiterated among the other riders. Albeit the fact that she had already known what was coming, the name cut through her heart like it had been made of paper. Not Erelieva, not her, not the strong, beautiful and sweet girl she had only known for a few days...
But it was her. The impact of that unchanging truth struck her like a hammer as beside her, Lucas' composed facade fractured. "Where?" he demanded of his Ringmaster. "Where is she?" The look upon his face was quite demented, his widened eyes shouting a silent plea that what Ferran had said was false.
"Her tent," Ferran replied softly. Lucas asked no more; like a passing breeze he was gone from the tent, running to Erelieva...
...as if he could save her.
Danae did not know why the thought perplexed her so much, and she had no intention of finding out. She followed Ferran and Renner from the Big Top. They were moving too slowly for her; she darted around them and broke into a sprint to her tent. The tent she shared with Erelieva.
She was prepared to push through the crowd to get to her friend, but the troupe cleaved to let her through. The pretty white tent had never seemed so cold and forsaken. She shoved aside the curtains that shrouded them from view, and her run withered to a stop as the tears crested when she saw the look upon Lucas' face.
Whatever anger and frustration had been torn from his features, replaced by a sadness that Danae felt in her heart. He knelt beside Erelieva's lifeless body, arms rested at his sides. Defeat guised the golden fire of his eyes, extinguished by Erelieva's death, the once stunning amber now dull and hollow.
That's the word. Hollow. No emotions masked his handsome face, even as Danae crouched beside him and laced her arms around his shoulders, and gently, brushed away the tear that slipped from his eyes. They stayed there for ages, before Ferran walked into the tent. Lucas' attention remained unriveted from Erelieva. Danae, however, looked up, dropping her hands, feeling the heat spread over her cheeks. But Ferran did not seem to notice anything strange, and the only acknowledgement he bestowed upon her was perfunctory: a slight nod of his head before he turned and retreated to the shadows outside.
Danae rested a hand on Lucas' shoulder. She squeezed it, just a tiny contraction, but Lucas reacted as if he had been shocked. He whirled to face her, and the sadness that edged his eyes and face was enough to tear her apart. "Come on," she murmured as her hand shifted to take his, and his grip upon hers suggested that she was the object that anchored him to sanity.
She led him out of the tent, past Renner and Ferran, who waved his hand and Erelieva's tent vanished, substituted by a similar white altar Lea had laid. He did not speak, but only gestured a hand, a silent invitation for Lucas to step forward. He released his hand from Danae's and walked to stand beside Ferran, and for the first time, Danae took a good look at the rest of the troupe. The murderous anger that had been present on so many of the familiar faces had gone, only leaving a despondency and anguish of their loss; Erelieva clearly meant much more to them. Her attention was turned back to Lucas as he spoke.
His voice was soft, but in the silence that had fallen upon them all, his voice carried loudly in the winds. "Erelieva lived a remarkable life, one that inspired me greatly. Her adventurous attitude, her broad range of interests and her cheerful demeanor made her a wonderful person to know. She was kind, and her encouraging words were was inspired me, with which she was very generous with."
In a flash, an inspiration came to Danae. Tentatively, the same mellow tune that Erelieva had sang the previous night hummed from her lips, and though the troupe glanced at her, they made no move to stop her. Lucas too, braved a glance at her, and a small, imperceptible smile touched his lips as he spoke. Emboldened, the melody grew louder, stronger, weaving and wreathing through Lucas' words:
"She took an interest in the people she met, no matter who it was. She pursued her many endeavors diligently, always rose to meet any challenge presented to her. She was especially perspective when it came to the littlest things, and no matter what happened, she never displayed anger nor impatience."
He paused, and then tipped his head up to watch the crowd. "I will miss her perspective and her gentle humour, her surprising depth and scope of knowledge, and most importantly, her warmth and goodness. I'll miss her greatly, but her memory will remain in all of us, forever."
Danae felt her heart wrench. Her eyes followed Ferran's hand as he slashed it through the air, and Erelieva's body turned to the same golden dust that floated into the skies and merged seamlessly with the starry night. The troupe left, and unlike the previous ceremony, Ferran did not call for a replacement; there was no one left to take Erelieva's place. The discouragement in his eyes bored into Danae's. He waved a careless hand, and her tent reappeared as he said, "We need to cancel the show."
"No," Lucas said flatly.
"You can't!" Danae cried at the same time.
"Erelieva cannot be replaced in time, we only have two days left!" Ferran snapped, his fury and anger sending his words into a hiss.
"She can," Lucas replied. The chasm that shadowed his eyes faded a little, letting the feelings return to his eyes as he turned to her. "Can you replace her?"
"What? No!" Danae exclaimed.
"You have to," he insisted. "I heard your voice, Danae." He paused, and shook his head in wondrous marvel. "It's beautiful. Please, Danae, do it for her and for Lea."
His beleaguer made the contrition flare like a fire fueled by oil. She faltered in her retort, and did not speak even as Ferran said, "Don't make her do it, Lucas. If she doesn't—" He was cut off abruptly by Danae.
"I'll do it," she said. She raised her eyes to meet Lucas' and then they flitted to Ferran's surprised ones and said, "I'll take Erelieva's place, if that's what it takes to keep the show on." She managed a small smile. "The show must go on, ringmaster."
The smile that Ferran returned her was just as slight, but relief seem to shroud his entire being. "Fine. But Danae, I have to warn you. Erelieva writes a new song every time we move, and she has always kept the tunes to herself. You'll have to write a new one."
Danae's ears pricked as she looked at Ferran with a new emotion bubbling within her: excitement. A song. Writing her own song. "I'll start right away, ringmaster," she said, grinning. "I've always loved writing songs."
Then her heart dropped as pain wrapped around it. With the memory of her first song came Vincent. With absolute certainty, she knew he would be there on the debut night. Then she steeled herself and thought, Then I'll do my best. For him.
Despite her persistence that they should start practicing, Lucas was adamant that she rest for the night. "What makes you so sure I'll master it in one day, Lucas?" she had asked, desperation treading into her voice as she realized the impossible task she had at hand.
His reply was a shrug and a grin. "I just know," he whispered, his lips at her ear. Then he had disappeared. Danae resigned to writing her song, and escaped to the tent that she now occupied alone. She paused at the entrance, feeling the sting in her eyes as tears blurred her vision. "For her," she said firmly to no one in particular. "For him."
She settled at Erelieva's desk, and let the tune flow from her lips to paper. She worked, and as the sun threatened to rise, she left her pen upon her table and walked into the shadows that gathered in the night.
The wind swept back her hair, and she shivered beneath the icy cold as the wind caressed her cheeks and bare arms. The lack of Erelieva's cheerful demeanor and smile allowed the exhaustion to take over, and yet, she felt no urge to sleep. Her eyes drifted to a dark silhouette that sat on a branch of one of the trees that lined the circus grounds. She moved towards the outline, and as she neared the tree, she found that it was Lucas.
Her eyes fell on the gleaming tears that shimmered beneath the shafts of moonlight, the clouds blurring the halo that edged the crescent's faint outline. She clambered atop the tree, her noisy climb making Lucas twist to face her. Suddenly a knife was twirling in his hands, and too fast for her eyes to follow, the knife was suddenly embedded in the thick trunk, inches from her head. Guilt shadowed his eyes when he saw who he had nearly killed. "Don't sneak up on me, Danae," he said, his tone harsh with belligerence. He turned away from her.
"I did not sneak up on you," she replied curtly, his icy tone sending a pang of hurt through her heart.
The anger diminished, grew mellow as he turned back to face her. "I'm sorry," he breathed, and made space for her. She folded herself sinuously upon the branch, saying, "It's okay."
Silence trailed her words, and moments lapsed before Danae broke the silence with her soft words: "You miss her, don't you?"
"No." His reply was blunt, and her response was to look at him with sceptical eyes.
"Liar," she said. She touched his cheek with tender fingers, tracing the beautiful lines of his face, and he turned his head to look at her. The vacant void she saw within the liquid gold only added to her certainty. "I see it in your eyes, Lucas," she said softly. "Don't lie to me."
He hesitated, and that hesitation tore her next words from her lips against her will. "Don't keep it to yourself, Lucas. Everything becomes easier when you share it with someone else."
He sighed, and shut his eyes in an attempt to block the tears that threatened to spill through his closed eyes. When he opened them, the words he spoke was enough just to pull mercilessly at Danae's heart. "She was my partner as long as I had been here, Danae," he said, the emptiness in his eyes fading just a little. He looked up at the silver crescent, at the moonbeams that shone down upon them like a blessing. "She was born with a damaged lung, and just before I joined the circus, she was dying."
Danae's breathing skipped its beat when she heard the word, and she winced. But Lucas continued, "She treated me like her saviour, and I guess I was, in some ways. But I looked to her more than she looked to me, and everything about my life was centered around her, around the girl who joined me in flight when we first created our performance." He shook his head fiercely, his musical voice going acrid. "But now she's gone. Gone from the circus, gone from us, gone from me."
Unthinkingly, on an impulse, she reached over and embraced his suddenly still body, resting her head against his chest, against the steady beating of his heart, a soothing rhythm that soothed her wrecked nerves. She was that close to him, but to her, it suddenly felt as if they were further apart than ever.
A single tear pushed past Danae's guard, and slipped down her cheeks, and at that moment, she realized his heart never belonged to her. It belonged somewhere far away, beyond their reach, in another time, in another place, with a girl whose own heart beats no more.
And Danae felt her own heart shatter, shatter like glass, ripped apart like paper, never to be repaired once more
Never to be healed at all.
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Thank you for reading! :) What do you think? Now we know for certain that Danae is in love with Lucas.
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