11 - A Lover's Dance
Danae sat on the plush bed in her tent, utterly alone and thinking. Her even breathing did not match her pounding heart. Outside, the night sky had thrown itself over the Eternal Fields and the tents that lay upon it, casting them into a darkness that was only illuminated by the glittering lights that adorned the circus tents. Beneath the clouds and autumn winds, she heard the rest of her troupe rush to prepare for their first performance in Lithewall.
She herself was trying to counter her own swirling thoughts and emotions. The rehearsal the night before had ended with praises; it had certainly been a success. But at that very moment, fear could not have become more palpable in her little tent.
It was not just the fear of finding Vincent sitting among the crowd to watch her, to see her more than to admire the other performances. It was the thudding of her pulsating heart that frightened her more than anything. Never before had she felt her heart beat as if it was sprinting a race to break free from her chest.
It was as if something was about to go very wrong.
But even that could not hold back her excitement. It seemed to meet with every inch of her body as she lay back upon her pillows and watched the chandelier glimmer and sway softly with the nonexistent winds. She turned her head, and found herself looking at the mirror that stood across her. The prior night, she was stunning and somehow, sexy. But now, the girl that gazed back looked simply beautiful.
Nothing about her costume nor hairstyle had been altered. Perhaps it was the angle as which she was looking at herself, or perhaps it was the way her expression had changed, but it hardly mattered. In her reflection, Danae looked like a young lady of eighteen years of age rather than sixteen.
But the glance she caught of herself was only for a brief second, for in the next she had shut her eyes and drowned herself in her dreams and thoughts.
I want him to love me.
Didn't she? Didn't anyone? Danae was certain that a man of Lucas' calibre would have swarms of beautiful girls swooning after him. Handsome, strong-willed and unbelievably sweet, and even at his worst moments, he'd tried to look his best. She recalled his exhaustion when he had waited for her at midnight. She remembered the dark wings that had erupted from his back, and the tiredness that had followed quickly, and how utterly handsome he had been.
I want my best friend back.
That thought had been uncalled for, and her lashes shot open at the words that had quietly snaked into her mind. Her heart ached terribly as she suddenly remembered their last day. Abruptly, all the pain of everything was too much to bear.
"Danae?" Michael's voice reached her ears through the partings, but he made no move to enter. His lean outline remained motionless at the entrance. "It's time."
"Coming," she called, and watched him disappear. She lingered upon her bed for a while longer, and then she stood. Smoothing her dress she joined her friends as they moved to the Big Top.
The drive that spurred the circus on had grown opulent through the cycle of the moon and the sun, and she sensed the determination that had chained itself to the winds and to every single performer of tonight. They would all do their best for the circus, and for the two friends they had lost to Death.
They gathered in the darkness of the backstage area, waiting for Ferran. When he did, he arrived with the flourish and showmanship of the unyielding ringmaster they all knew. But his trained eyes caught something that none of them did, not even Danae. "Where's Lucas?"
His simple two words sent her heart into a faster run than she had ever felt, and fear locked her limbs and lips. Her response was one that reverberated among her friends. As one, they stiffened, and in most of their eyes fear met their irises; they all knew that Lucas would never be late. Not him, not him, please not him, Danae prayed fervently. She was the first to move, her feet unrooted and moving just as Ferran's hard words resounded: "Find him!"
Time was most definitely not their ally in this race. Just as she and her friends darted from the back entrance, she saw the audience swarm into the Big Top. Chatters rose into the night sky and flooded her ears, a sound that sparked anxiety and wrecked her nerves; if Lucas could not be found, there would be no show. If he were dead...
No, she could not permit herself to think that thought. They split up, each darting in a different direction, some going in pairs, some heading off alone. Danae detached herself from Michael, and found herself in a lonely part of the circus grounds, a place where she had not ventured to before. There was a large empty area, save the single, drab tent that stood before her. Her run slowed, withered to a hesitant footfall which faltered and stopped altogether when she heard Lucas' voice call her name.
"Danae."
She twisted towards the sound, and her heart ached for the pain that she heard echoed within in. It was a sound impregnated with sheer agony, filled with desperation. "Lucas?" she called, her voice too was pervaded with an uncontrollable fear.
And then she saw him. The movement came from the tent, and she reached out a hand towards him. She choked back a tortured cry as he staggered towards her.
He was pale, his usually tanned skin sallow and unhealthy, as if he was terribly sick. When he caught her arm, his skin burned against hers. His golden eyes had dimmed, and he fell into her arms. Unable to support his weight she stumbled back on the cold grass and fell. She stifled a cry of pain as she felt her ankle twist beneath their combined weights. "Michael!" She called for her friend. Her teeth gritted, she tried to stand, and a raging fire punctuated each torturous step as she put both her weight and Lucas' on her injured leg.
"Danae?" Michael materialized at the edge of one of the nearby tents, and his eyes flickered from Danae to Lucas, who leaned upon her. He relieved her of his weight easily, and watching her limp slowly behind him, his other arm wrapped around her waist to take her own weight off her ankle. Their slow progress frustrated her.
"Get him to Ferran and the doctor, he needs help," she gasped as her ankle sent another bout of pain up her leg. "I'm slowing you down."
"We're doing fine, Danae. Lucas will kill me if I leave you here alone. The circus grounds are huge, and we're right at the fringe of it," he countered, but doubt was sewn into his voice.
"There's not going to be a Lucas to kill you if you don't get him to the doctor!" she snapped. "Please, Michael, he's dying."
She knew it with absolute certainty, without a single shred of doubt. She touched his cheek with tender fingers; his skin was still feverish, albeit the fact it burned less than it had just a moment before. His eyes flickered open for a brief moment, then shut again, but not before she saw the pain that shrouded them in a grim mist.
"Please," she said again as she lifted her fingers. Michael gaze fell upon her, and then he said, "You love him."
She flushed at how easily he had read her like an open book. There was no point in denying that fact. She loved him. "Yes," she said just as quietly. "So make sure he's alright."
A smile stretched over his lips. "I will." And then he turned and strode off, leaving her utterly alone.
Her slow, painful hobble back to the Big Top seemed to take ages. Her North Star was the brightest light that shone on the Big Top, though each step towards it seem to take her further from it, and further from Lucas.
Hardly anything else intruded her mind but the fears and the images of Lucas. She hurt for him, and more than anything she wanted to ease that pain. If she could, she would have torn him free of that agony, or even take that pain upon herself.
"Danae?" someone called for her.
"Here," she replied, and swore furtively as her ankle throbbed painfully. Strong, gentle arms wrapped around her shoulders, and then swept her legs from beneath her.
"Oh!" she exhaled sharply, and looked up crossly, and started when she saw the man who had so easily lifted her of her feet. "Lucas!"
He smiled, and though the exhaustion still lingered upon his face, he looked much better. A little color had returned to his face, and he stood up straighter. "Hello, my little love," he murmured softly, and looked at at her. "That's a nasty sprain."
She chose to ignore his remark, and instead, she wrapped her arms around him in a sudden movement that startled him. Burying her face in his shoulder, she said, "I'm so glad you're ok."
A light chuckle slipped from his mouth. "It'll take much more than that to kill me. Besides, the show must go on, musn't it?'
She pulled away, shock altering the expression of relief. "You can't be thinking of continuing!"
"I have to."
"No, you don't!" she argued. "Lucas, you need rest."
He sighed softly, his breath forming little shapes in the chilly air as he exhaled. "Danae, the show has to go on. We can't stop, not now."
"But—" she started, but Lucas' brusque response cut across hers.
"Danae, I'm doing it for her."
Silence trailed after his words, and Danae felt her heart wrench once more. She knew the precisely who he was talking about, and the name was enough to simply silence her retort. For her. It has always been about Erelieva, hasn't it? He was doing everything for her.
So who was she to interfere?
His lover, her cynical half whispered in her mind.
But it was simply because she loved him that she must let him be. Finally, she said, "Will you be able to?"
"Yes," he replied, his voice growing soft. His amber eyes met hers, and held it. He seemed to be on the brink of speaking, but the chance vanished when they arrived at the Big Top, and relieved sighs emanated from the crowd that stood before the backstage entrance. Ferran stood at the head of them all.
"Danae," he said, his voice pervaded with relief, and he walked forward to meet them.
"She's sprained her ankle," Lucas said, setting her gently upon the grass, then they both moved away as the white-haired doctor walked towards her. The fierce air she had seen upon his face had disappeared, replaced entirely by a kindly smile and concerned look. She jerked her foot away as his fingers touched them.
"It's a bad sprain, but nothing I can't heal," his low voice chuckled as her grasped her ankle again, this time more lightly then he had just now. His muttered words that she couldn't decipher under his breath, and then, abruptly, the pain left as quickly as it had come.
She rotated it left, and then right, and when no pain decided to trouble her, she helped herself up. "Good as new," she remarked, surprise marring her humorous tone. She lifted her head to smile at the doctor. "Thank you, sir."
A chuckle resounded from him. "Oh, call me Charles, dear."
"Charles," she repeated, and felt a grin stretch over her face and turned to face the group. Ferran turned, the exulted grin contagious.
"We have everyone. Let's show everyone what we can do."
They hurried back, and then, the show started.
Whatever they had practiced, whatever Danae had witnessed when she had watched their preview, and no matter how beautiful she had thought them to be, this single performance surpassed it all. All the parts were played perfectly, as was hers.
Throughout her dance, she watched Lucas. She watched the tanned tone of his skin, and watched the power at which he displayed. She relished their combination of beauty and strength, and savored his tender gaze and gentle hold upon her. When they took their final bow, he held her hand. But as they made to leave, something else, another voice called for her.
And this voice was the one she had wanted to hear for a very, very long time.
She twisted, an elated smile stretching over her face as she tugged her hand free from Lucas'. Someone swept her up into his strong arms and wrapped her in an embrace that stated quite plainly that he never wanted to let go.
Vincent.
"Danae," he murmured into her hair, and they slowed to a gentle twirl. When he pulled away, he kissed her lightly on her lips, but this was one kiss that she did not fight. Its warmth found a home in her heart, spanning out from it to envelope her entire being. When she pulled away first, she found Vincent's silvery eyes gazing at her.
"Vince," she said. "I'm so happy to see you."
"Me too," he smiled, but this one was wistful. The sadness still lingered upon his eyes and smile, and that sadness tore at Danae's heart. She felt the pain that resided within them both, but their reunion dispelled that heartache a little.
"You look beautiful," he said suddenly, his fingers twirling a loose strand of her hair.
"Thanks," she murmured, and a comfortable silence followed her words. Locked in his gaze, she did not move, and neither did she. What would they have become if she had loved him the way he loved her, she mused silently, the question a burning one in her mind.
"Danae," Michael's voice called. She pictured herself stabbing a dagger through his heart for his interruption, and her exasperated sigh was, surprisingly, not echoed by Vincent. He did, however, gaze evenly over her shoulder for a second before turning his eyes back upon her.
"I've kept you from your friends," he said sadly.
"No, they don't matter, not now, Vince." She grasped his arm. "I've missed you, so, so much..." She didn't want to release him. The empty void that she had felt since Erelieva's death had filled in his presence, and she was certain that the moment he was out of her sight, that pain-filled abyss would return to replace his warmth.
"I missed you too, but this is your new home," he whispered.
She watched him pleadingly. "Is just another minute with you too much to ask?"
A wry smile tipped his lips again. "Not for me. But for your friends, maybe." He glanced again at the backstage entrance behind her, and the glint of irritation and defeat reigned his eyes. She sighed once more. She lifted her hand and touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes at her contact.
"I just want to see you again," she said softly.
He opened his eyes. She caught something else within his eyes, more than the pain and sadness. "Me too. And now we have. You should go."
His snappy response stunned her, and after the shock, hurt followed. "Are you mad at me?" she asked as she dropped her hand from his cheek.
He shook his head. "No, no... It's... I'm just tired, Danae," he said.
The pause grew awkward, and she backed away from him. Vincent did nothing to stop her, but his eyes remained fixated upon hers, an unwavering gaze that held her. "Goodbye, Vincent," she whispered.
"Goodbye, Danae," he murmured back, just like he had when she'd left him.
Except this time, the goodbye was forever.
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And that was A Lover's Dance.
Thanks so much for your reading and commenting, and I'd like to thank all of you who have read, commented and voted for Siren's Call. It means so much to me! :D
This chapter is slightly different. It's Vincent's and Danae's reunion since they parted, and now they're meeting each other again. But when they say goodbye this time, they don't know when they will meet again.
Still, a big thank you to those who have supported Siren's Call, up all the way til this latest chapter! :D
I know this chapter's a bit rushed, and I apologize! >< I'll edit it when I can :)