Leanna paced in an aimless circle, her body shaking to the tune of the flickering flames. Her stomach had long stopped twisting, now settled on a constant knot that stifled all breaths. She plucked a steady tune on her satin robe, an ever changing song of rattled nerves and regret; their lyrics one question: What on earth have I done?
What on earth had she done?
She paused, staring down at the moving shadows on the hardwood floor. Whatever she'd done, it was too late to undo it now. The circus closed for the night, the show long over, all that remained were the rumors, that the magnificent Leanan Sidhe was far less than magnificent. As Minerva had ushered her through the dressing tent and past the cookhouse, the eyes of the performers branded her skin, their stares saying just that. Not even Kioyo had come to see her. He didn't even look at her when she passed him. Through the pain and glitter, through the music and confetti Leanna saw his disillusion, all of their disillusionment. More, she knew of their disappointment in their king. Finvarra had brought her there. He'd promised them freedom. And like before, he'd been blinded.
Leanna shook her head. How could she think she would change anything with her meddling? She'd been a fool to believe it— a true jester in King Finvarra's court.
And now? her heart asked. Leanna toured her eyes around the tent into which she'd slipped into—Finvarra's tent. She sighed. And now Finvarra wouldn't want to see her . . . would probably have Tomas carry her out and through the crystals for being a fraud. Her shoulders slumped with an exhale. Oh, but she just had to explain . . .
Despite the fire at the hearth, Leanna rubbed her arms and circled the tent. Maybe the action would add warmth to the chill of guilt that touched her. At Finvarra's desk, her hands ran lightly along a yellowed world map, marked with intricate symbols. Her heart panged. The circus may never see those places again. Beside them, cages draped in black fabric hid memories of others they too would never see.
A candelabra at the corner of the table gave her pause. Her fingers trembled as she lit the three wicks. Staring into the fledgling flames, she forced herself to consider their meaning, something else she was guilty of.
"Bless they spirit and thy journey home," she murmured to the memory of the three fallen horsemen.
A gentle breeze whispered past, carrying a familiar scent in its phantom fingers. Leanna's heart clenched and she spun towards the door. Like a moth to a flame, Finvarra appeared borne of the night. Dark shadows cradled his eyes, his glow non-existent. Leanna swallowed deeply. He looked so terribly human, it hurt.
Blue eyes pinned on her in an instant, and he held her stare. But though he looked directly at her, Leanna knew he didn't see her at all.
A few stilled moments and he slid off his coat, his glossed gaze still worlds gone. Wordless, he hung it at the coat tree. Slow and composed steps drew him away from the door, away from her as he walked to the bar while undoing his cravat. Each soundless step buried his agony deeper behind a mask of cool indifference. Leanna watched on, heart breaking with each of his steps. She had caused this. A mask she'd help destroy was now bonded back together, the consequence of her actions the glue.
At the bar, Finvarra reached for the bottle of brandy. The sloshing of dark liquor filled the silence, followed by a quiet tap as he set the bottle back on the bar. He paused and for long moments after did not move. Deathly still, he stared at his hand upon the glass bottle.
Leanna curled her fingers on the edge of the desk, certain his ever tightening grip upon the decanter would shatter it between his fingers. His breaking point was nearing. Leanna knew this. It was in the detached stare upon his hand. It was in the suffocating tension swelling between them. It was in the period of intense quiet that rang in her ears. She'd expected yelling, perhaps he'd clear the table in one furious swipe. But this dead calm was far worse...
Leave, her mind rallied. But led by his unspoken grief, and by her guilt, she dared a step toward him and another, until standing at his side. Finvarra had yet to move, a prisoner on the shores of his madness.
Leanna took in a slow breath and moistened her lips to speak—
"Poison would be too quick for you, wouldn't it?" he said in the same terrible coolness. His gaze snapped to hers: dark, icy and lost. The blue was still as a winter sky, but those black cores radiated violence—that of a man capable of violence.
Leanna stood utterly still, unafraid. "I beg your pardon?" she rasped, struggling through the knot in her throat.
"No, were you able, poison would be entirely too quick, too kind." He set aside the untouched drink and paced to his desk in silence, caught in this toxic web of thought. He stopped by the birdcages draped in black. Stroking a finger along the fabric slowly, he said equally dark, "I always told Ellie that the elders conspired against me; digging trenches for the sole purpose of watching me fall..." A grim smile curled the edge of his lips. "They knew I expected an otherworldly being, yet they sent you, a fragile creature whose strength is not in her beauty but in the lies she spews from her lips—lies of love and freedom," he lifted his lashes, looking her straight in the eyes, "of loyalty." His hands dropped to his side. "And once again, l played their fool. I fell for your supposed need for me, for your supposed desire for freedom. I fell for you..." he seethed through clenched teeth. "The greatest deception of all."
Leanna swallowed, earnestly wishing to retaliate against this hysteria, but nothing would come from her mouth. His poison swelled her throat and burned her eyes.
"But I know the truth now," he murmured. Finvarra abandoned the cages, closing the space between them in slow steps to the tune of his venomous words. "Before you grant me death, you wish to destroy me, to make me pay for all those girls who lost their lives. Lives that haunt my every breath; vacant eyes that are burned to the back of my lids, that persecute me with each blink every day of my cursed existence."
Before her, he lifted a hand to her hair, stroking it gently though his eyes blazed with pain and hate. "You seek to torture me first. Make me watch my people die, all the while you laugh alongside the elders." He shook his head slowly, fisting the ends of her hair. "Shall I laugh too?"
Finvarra released her hair into the air in disgust and chuckled—a dark amusement that felt like little cuts within Leanna. "Shall I laugh at this sham, at this ruse we are? Shall we laugh at my foolish desire to be different for you, to be something other than the heartless bastard this life has made of me? I lay down my pride for you and you trampled it. I bore my soul to you and you scorned it. You were within me but didn't care to see anything about my life or how I tried to be something better for you—for you!" He raked his hair, gripping tightly as if to keep from touching her. "I welcomed you into my circus, tinkered with time to ease your fears, used dark magic for you, and yet, knowing that you are my main act, that my death and my troupe's forgiveness is closeyou ruin your performance!" He snatched her into his hands. "What more can I give you! How much more do you want from me?"
A frigid gust trailed his words and lashed Leanna's hair over her shoulders. Stunned, she watched him as his outburst that ricocheted around her, his words reverberating to the very core of her soul. Words swelled in her throat, clawing to be free, but shock stunted her lungs and they would not come.
He released her as if touching her burned. "And you claim to love me?" he murmured. He took a step away from her, finished. "I may be heartless, but your kind are soulless. You know nothing of love."
Numb, dazed, she felt nothing at first. There was just cold, the echo of his vicious, poisonous words, and his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. But as silence settled around them and his accusation faded into the canvas, into her heart, Leanna shivered.
"My kind?" she repeated, her voice breaking. She fisted her robe in her hands, hands that wished to slap him for saying those terrible, terrible words. Hands that wished to drag him into an embrace and away from the darkness of his thoughts. Fury and love fueled a desperate passion within her, and she trembled. "My kind? And what kind is that? For if I was a siren, I could sing and lure you from this darkness. If a banshee, I could scream and numb away this deafening ache within you. But I am just human, with a heart that loves you and a soul that fears for you!" Anger turned to rage and tears blurred the edges of his image in her eyes. "That is why I did what I did! Fear of losing you robbed me of my magic and I faltered. I meddled. I didn't cross that rope because of this love you claim I don't feel!"
All the frustrations of her life exploded from her then. "Everything I've done, all my meddling, was intended for the best. I've endured attacks for you; scorn and hate for you. You gave me a chance to leave. But I stayed. For you. And now that I've found a place to belong, it will be torn from me, too regardless of what happens. My only guarantees are death or loneliness, but I stay. What more can I give you? What more do you want from me?"
Finvarra only stared, frost and war in those eyes, like the shadow and light dancing upon his features. Leanna shook her head and it was she who backed away, finished. "I won't argue with you on this. Perhaps in the morning we can talk about it with clear minds." She released his hand into the air. "But if my presence is such an abomination to you, and if all you wish to do is offend me, then I will leave."
She turned away.
In a blink, Finvarra stood before her. He took her shoulders in his hands roughly, but there was defeat in those eyes. They glittered in the firelight with the unshed tears of a desperate man. Outside the winds wailed, as if crying the lament he did not.
"You will leave me, then. To rot in my misery as I deserve?" The fire in the hearth withered with a hiss, leaving them to lamplights and shadows. "Do you finally see me for the heartless beast I am? Have you finally lost hope in me, too?"
His fingers upon her tightened. He brought her closer, his tone shifting from anger to a strangled sorrow that clenched her throat. "You will leave me and I'll be left here to watch my people die one by one. As they die, I'll wither away in hate because instead of mourning them, I will be mourning you—hating myself because I hurt you."
He gazed at her, eyes glossy in the dim lights. It was a painful sight, that of a man lost with but an inch of candlewick left in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night. Stranded, Leanna realized. They were stranded in darkness together. How could she possibly save him from this?
"Finvarra, please don't speak this way. I am here," she said, gripping his vest with equal vigor. She couldn't lose him to this maelstrom, to this ocean of madness.
His hands came around her and he brought her closer, until his forehead rested against hers. "My sister was forgiven, taken from me to where I will never see her again," he spoke desperately against her lips in prayer. "If Inara dies, my soul will never recover. But losing you..."
Closing his eyes, he shook his head against hers, holding her tighter, possessive, mad. "I'll never bear it. Death won't be enough to free me from the agony of knowing I ruined this too." He dug his fingers into her body like an anchor to his sanity. "Don't leave me. I'll haunt this earth and drink from the memories of everyone that has known you if you do."
Hands trembling, she cupped his face, finally understanding Ellie's desperate words to him. She too had been losing him to this grief, and she was helpless against it. He was mad, irrefutably mad. Grief, anger and pain clipped his wings, and he fell burning.
Yet looking into those clear blue eyes, Leanna paused. Before the circus, she too had been going mad in her illness, losing herself to her grief, and she was helpless against it. In this mirroring despair, she'd run away from her home and found him—they found each other, and promised to free one another.
It was there in little light and little hope that a tear fell, washing away denial and opening her eyes to truth. She was going to lose him. Either to madness and death, or he gave her his heart and Machina killed her, they would never be together. Their fate had been irrefutable from the start, and denial would only embitter the short time they had left.
Her heart ached. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her, but she nodded and made her choice. Above broken hearts and proprieties, things that were and things that could have been, she said,
"I will stay with you." She would, to grieve with him, to fall and hurt with him, to burn with him.
Yes, she would do all of these things. But of all, to keep him from madness, to gift him the freedom he'd gifted her, she said,
"I'll dance for you," she whispered. "Would you like that?"
The black cores of his eyes widened, the shock of her offer devouring the wintry blue. He swallowed and nodded slowly.
It was unwise and she thought to take it back. But as his hands slid from around her, raising the anchor and freeing her into the open spaces of the room, a need above all proprieties ignited. He'd always been a cool breeze in the dark, a shadow in-between wakefulness and sleep that drew her from her terrible visions. She would be his cool breeze in the dark, a shadow dancer in-between life and death, drawing him from his terrible reality.
Taking his hands in hers, Leanna held them tightly to keep him close and to keep hers steady as she led him back toward the sitting area. Standing before him, she put a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him down into a chair. She caressed the silken blond strands away from his face and took a step back. Undoing the knot to her robe, she let the satin slip down her arms just as his gaze slid down her body. With her feathers gone, but a thin dance dress shielded her body from his eyes.
She slid one foot back and then another until finding center in the room. To the sound of his slow breaths that slid across her body as a ghostly breeze, she raised en pointe. Closing her eyes, she exhaled and gave life to her dance.
With the memory of Vicente's song in her head, all the fragments of her unfinished dance fused. Every caress and turn at adagio, she took Finvarra on an intimate journey of her soul, of her life up until that very moment. Only this time, she moved through each chapter of the routine without stopping. The crystal hummed at her skin, but she embraced it, letting its coolness fuel her dance.
She opened her eyes. Meeting his stare, she felt to really see him for the first time, the man that had been what she needed, that had given her the freedom he'd promised.
She had promised him something too...
Arabesque and she reached for the heavens. If he wanted stars, she would give it to him. She reached to the floor—would give him the earth if he chose. Or—she retracted her hands to her chest— if he wanted her heart, he could have it too. It was already his. But her hands withered at her sides in slow flutters. He didn't want these things. Folding into herself, Leanna focused on the burning of the crystal, on the freedom that only she could bring him.
Spreading her arms outward, she bloomed. Her crystal grew blindingly white. It chased away all darkness, illuminating the tent with its ethereal glow and her love. It grew whiter and brighter until all else vanished around them. Abandoned in this white heaven where tears glittered in the eyes of Fae king, the Leanan Sidhe awakened.
A promise fulfilled.
In this frosted universe, she reached for him and drew back her hand like waves pulling him from the shores of this existence. Hands gathered at her core, she swayed like the ocean carrying him away from his nightmare, from his life. Tears spilled from her eyes when in finally finding this new piece of her dance, the end of her dance, she opened her arms and let him go.
Closing her arms around her body in a weak embrace, she held herself, having reached the last of her journey.
Gradually the crystal stopped humming. Its glow dimmed, leaving them in their world of more shadows.
"Thank you," Finvarra said, his voice a hoarse whisper. With his head leaned onto the wing of the chair, he held one pale hand out to her, the other pressed at his heart. Beneath his fingers, a bright light glowed dimmer with each of his hollow breaths. Leanna moved to him in an instant, kneeling down before his chair. She put her hand above his. His hands were freezing. Each of his trembles cut to her very heart.
When the light no longer glowed, he lowered their hands. Through the parting in his shirt, Leanna saw a bruise marked his skin. Tentatively she reached up and parted the fabric.
"Oh, God," she moaned. Bruises covered his torso, from just below his collarbone, over his ribs and down to where her eyes couldn't see. Her fingers neared the cool skin and she touched it gently. She winced though Finvarra did not, feeling this pain as if her own.
"This war against your heart is destroying you from within." She rose in haste. "I'll get you help."
He didn't release her hand.
When she looked to him, he shook his head and drew her back toward him. He made to usher her down onto his lap, but she bristled, refusing.
"I just want to hold you," he said. A sad smile twitched the corner of his mouth. "Will you deny a dying man a wish?"
Leanna swallowed deeply. How could she possibly deny him this? Surrendering, she sat. He leaned them back with a minor hiss of discomfort, and they settled together, fitting perfectly. She welcomed him into her arms and he rested his head on her chest as if seeking out her heartbeat for a lullaby. She let him, steadying her breaths to soothe him.
"There's so much I wish I could promise you," he murmured against her heart, his breathing tight and shallow. "So very much."
She stroked his hair gently, blond strands slipping through her fingers. "Perhaps in another time, another place, but this is the time we have. We won't think of such things now..."
Perhaps another time and another place, but not now.
Finvarra pressed a quiet kiss against the skin beside her crystal and said no more. Neither did Leanna. She smoothed his hair over and over, until darkness devoured the room...
Until his breath fanned her neck in regular intervals...
Until his hold around her waist loosened and he went limp in her arms, asleep.
Faeries never sleep...
Gazing down at him, she caressed his hair away from his face. She didn't dare wake him, not when he looked so devastatingly peaceful there.
"Sweet dreams, my love," she whispered, and brought him back against her heart, hoping her heartbeats would somehow make up for his fading life.
As her tears dampened his hair, Leanna closed her eyes, realizing Minerva was wrong. Unrequited love wasn't the greatest madness. It was love. Their love: unconventional, intense, and deadly.
When her tears ran dry and but a numbing ache remained, Leanna slipped her arms from around him and rose from his lap. Putting on her robe, she padded silently across the room. She parted the curtains and stepped uneasily into the open where Tomas stood watch.
He turned. "Miss West—"
"He fell asleep."
Tomas stiffened, eyes frozen on hers. "And you accept this?"
"What else can I do but accept? I've meddled and only made things worse. He won't give me his heart for fear of what Machina will do. If there was another way, I'd do anything, but there isn't."
Tomas held her gaze, then lowered his lashes, but not before Leanna saw the truth there.
"Tomas..."
He looked out into the night, but said nothing.
Like a stubborn child, she stormed before him. "What is it you're not telling me?"
"The Ringmaster won't ever allow it."
"He's dying, Tomas! If there is a way I can free him from this curse so that he can go back home and be the king he's supposed to be, I'll do it. He may not have been the best king, but he's a good man. In spite of all he says, he just wants to go home. You all deserve to go home." Her voice broke, but no tears fell. She had none left. "Please, tell me what to do."
Smoothing one hand over his bald head, he motioned to the wicker bench that she'd sat at the first night with the other. Leanna stifled a sigh of relief, walked to the bench and sat quickly, before he changed his mind.
Opening a trunk on the opposite side of the canopy, Tomas set aside a book, a gourd of water, and pulled out a quilted blanket. Leanna's heart stirred. How much cold had he weathered in protecting Finvarra? How much snow, rain, ice, wind... and loneliness? He draped the quilt over her shoulder, pulling her from thought. The blanket was soft and smelled of honey.
Bringing up a small wooden stool beside her, he lowered onto the seat with a sigh. "I am of the woodland people, from the same realm as those who made Machina's heart," he started. "Only I'm an ogre, banished by my people because I refused to eat..."
He dropped his gaze, troubled. Plucking a tall weed, he twisted it in his thick fingers with palpable shame. "I refused to eat..."
"Humans," Leanna injected softly, knowing the gruesome tales behind the monstrous creatures. She encouraged him with a nod.
Tomas exhaled, his features relaxing. "Though banished, I still got word from back home and heard rumors of the heart that was made. The Ringmaster offered the trolls many riches and land in exchange for this heart. They should've refused him, but the trolls were greedy. They only cared about the money and never told the Ringmaster of the risks."
He shook his head, looking down to the weed he bent in half. "They powered this heart with ancient magic, forbidden black magic. Aithne was dead, her body but an empty vessel. By putting this black heart within her, they gave evil a home." He met her gaze levelly. "This evil found root in her obsession with the Ringmaster, where it has flourished more and more with each life taken."
"That's why he hates the trolls," Leanna murmured.
"They deal falsely. They made this heart with no regard for consequence and powered a monster that will do anything for Finvarra to love her. Thus, the only way to defeat Machina is to destroy her heart." He plucked a piece of the weed away, with the same helplessness his voice held. "Sadly, the Ringmaster can't ever get close enough to try. No one has been able to do so. Inara's white magic can stop her heart for few seconds, enough time for us to move the circus, but never enough to kill her. Something stronger is needed."
"But if Inara can't do it or Finvarra... it's..." She trailed off, not wanting to say the word.
"Impossible?" Tomas held up the reed that was now fashioned into the shape of a heart. "So was the idea of the Ringmaster falling in love."
Leanna's brow dipped, a solemn smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She took the offered gift, and with it found new tears. They splashed against the dry stem as if wishing to water it back to life.
"I know you're the only one that can do this," Tomas said. "It was always meant to be you."
"What more can I do?"
"The elders punished the Ringmaster for what he did, and said he must give his heart away. When he did, he would be forgiven. But what would that solve with Machina still haunting him and shedding innocent blood in Forever? No, though the curse they gave him was extreme, the elders are wise and just."
He met her eyes, conviction making them darker and intense. "Now, this is only a theory, and with Inara gone, I've been unable to ask, but I've always wondered if the crystals you wear are the same as the ones that surround the circus."
Though just the two of them, he lowered his voice further. "When I first became the Ringmaster's guard, Inara taught me how to use the crystals that surround the fairgrounds to magnify my magic in order to protect the circus."
Leanna nodded, finally understanding why he had to stay behind when all else went to find Inara, why Machina fled when he arrived, and why he guarded Finvarra.
"My magic isn't nearly as strong as Inara's and not enough to completely dispel the dark magic that powers Machina's heart, but it's enough to drive her away. But your magic . . ."
"What magic do I have?"
"The greatest of all magic, your love," he said, a hand above his heart. "It's enough to eradicate the dark magic within Machina and stop her heart. I never thought the Ringmaster would fall in love and so I didn't say anything lest he grow desperate and seek love where it wasn't, but I've seen the way the crystal lights up with you. I know this is the way."
Leanna held the crystal tightly. "The only times I've ignited it, I had no control over it. How could I ever get close enough to try? And what if it doesn't work?"
"That doubt will kill your magic, as will your fear. But you're brave and are meant to rid the world of Machina's darkness. I believe in you, Miss Weston."
She smiled sadly. "I wish I had your conviction. After all I've brought onto this circus, I don't know why you even believe I can do this."
Tomas was quiet for a thoughtful moment, where his gaze focused on some faraway place. "We had a performer once named Gahn," he began slowly. "He had a bird, Silver. Silver read minds, and told Gahn their secrets. The audience adored it. But like many here, after years of performing, he lost hope in the Ringmaster. At some point—perhaps in a moment of drunkenness, of weakness," he waved a hand feebly, "the Ringmaster let down his guard and Gahn saw where he kept your necklace. He tried to steal it."
"Why would he do such a thing?" Leanna asked, half intrigued, half puzzled by Tomas's desire to tell her this tale.
"The crystals were forged so that when Finvarra found a woman to give his heart to, she could look into his soul and see all the things he was guilty of. With the crystal, Machina would have access to his soul and can poison him from within. She convinced Gahn that in this way she could get the Ringmaster to give her his heart and we would all be free." Tomas gritted his teeth, sitting back. "He was a fool."
Though under the blanket, Leanna shivered. To think of Finvarra caught in Machina's web of evil was an aching thought. She remembered how beautiful his soul had been, so many stars. She could've fallen forever.
"It was the Ringmaster who caught Gahn in his tent attempting to steal it. A scuffle ensued, and Gahn stabbed him with an iron blade. I arrived in time to stop Gahn, but Silver flew off with the box. All the other performers were at the Big Top, preparing for the show. Help wouldn't have arrived on time. Little did I know that a wild-haired girl had stolen away from her parents to catch a glimpse of the performers in the backyard, much like her daughter did so many years later."
"My mother..."
He nodded. "She saw everything transpire from her hiding place just outside of the gates. Thankfully burdened by the box, Silver was flying low. She took a stone and tossed it straight into the air, hitting the silver thief squarely and out from the sky." A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Meddlesome."
Leanna smiled, fresh tears glittering in her eyes.
"Ellie arrived then and brought her through the crystals while Inara and I combined our magic to destroy any of the goons that may have seen what happened. We were fortunate. Our magic was much stronger then, before this world diminished it."
Tomas looked to his hands, helpless. He closed them into loose fists and went on. "When the Ringmaster saw your mother standing there with the box, something within him changed. He knew the crystal was no longer safe with him."
"Why didn't you take care of it for him?"
"Desperation can lead anyone to madness. I didn't dare. We thought the best was to send it far from here. Inara agreed, thinking no one could be trusted. And so Ellie, Inara and I vowed to keep the events a secret. The Ringmaster sent your mother away and told her to return once she'd found his Leanan Sidhe." He shrugged. "I don't think he ever expected her to find it, thus he would never see the crystal again, never be tempted to give his heart away. But many years later, the crystal grew so cold it brought the Ringmaster to his knees. He spoke of a light trespassing onto his thoughts, one that blighted out the darkness of his existence. He believed that somehow, your mother had found his Leanan Sidhe. And so we waited."
Tomas stood and smoothed down his pants. "So why do I believe in you? Because of the magic I just saw now illuminating the Ringmaster's tent; because your mother gave you the crystal—not your sisters, but you. And now you are here to bring us snow." He tipped her chin to meet his eyes. "You're the Leanan Sidhe, and if you are to inspire death, then let it be Machina's."
Leanna was quiet for a long time. She stared down at the heart shaped reed in her hand. For her to kill Machina was as difficult a thought as losing Finvarra...
"Go now and rest," Tomas said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. "It's a lot to take in and a lot to ask of you, which is why the Ringmaster refused the idea."
Heat rushed into her numb cheeks. "You mean he knew there was another way?"
"I told him, but he won't risk losing you to Machina over a theory. Machina's sole purpose for life is the Ringmaster. If he dies, grief will consume her and she'll die too. He feels he can finally end this for certain. But, in the morning, if you wish, I will teach you to hone your magic and focus it on the crystals the way Inara taught me."
"You'll go against Finvarra's wishes?"
"If you want to be the one to end this, then I will help you, but it's something you must believe in wholeheartedly. If you're to stand before Machina, you cannot doubt. You cannot fear, or you'll truly lose it all—Finvarra, the circus, and your life."
Leanna rose feeling a bit lightheaded at all she'd been told, at all the decisions to be made. Finally, there was a way for them both to live, even if not together.
"Thank you for this, and for being a true friend to Finvarra," she said. On tipped toes, she kissed his cheek and made her choice. "I'll see you in the morning."
Tomas lowered his head, a hint of a blush spreading beneath his dark skin. He nodded once to her and then faced the open field, a fortress of loyalty and safety.
Leanna walked back into the night and through the maze of tents with one thought driving her steps forward: anyone could be any body's Leanan Sidhe. Just as she was Finvarra's Leanan Sidhe, he was hers. The desire to save him would inspire her to the madness of trying to destroy Machina's heart and could possibly lead to her death...
But—she set her jaw— she would succeed. She couldn't doubt or they could lose it all. They already were.
But—she set her jaw— she would succeed. She could not doubt or they could lose it all. They already were. The fluttery feeling of hope in her chest sent her walking faster, muscles tight with readiness. She thrust her tent curtains aside and stepped inside the dark tent. She would rest, and come morning, she would learn to use her magic—
Something came upon her mouth—a rag while arms closed around her waist firmly, trapping her. Leanna clawed at the hands, kicked and struggled, but her captor pinned her arms to her sides. Within moments, her nostrils burned, her sights grew hazy and her fight withered. Sluggish, she fell limp in her captor's arms.
A slow blink, and a steady gallop carried her toward the crystals... and then across them.
And as all went black, Leanna realized that before saving Finvarra, she'd have to save herself.
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Leanna finally found the end of her dance, and found herself, which has always been what her dancing was about. I hope those of you that have been waiting for her to dance enjoyed it. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!
Thank you for reading. All comments and votes are greatly appreciated.