Page 16 of A Dance With Fire
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Slowly, the door creaked open and she stepped back, finding weapons staring down her nose threateningly.
“Show your face, stranger,” a commanding voice ordered. Another sound she’d dreamt and recognized like the melodies of home.
Coherence was an affectation when all she knew was madness. So Davina was surprised, when she lifted her hands and slowly lowered her hood to reveal her face, that she did not tremble. Looking up into different sets of eyes, she offered up a razor-sharp smile that showed canines and all, like she was looking into the madness itself.
“Good evening,” she purred. “I would ask your forgiveness for the interruption, but I have found the answer to all your problems.”
7
Chains of Iron
“Another crush,” Shula whispered as she peeked behind the curtain and out at the crowd. But the words felt hollow and empty leaving her lips.
Tonight made her more nervous than any other night had simply because the wounds on her back ached. They pulsed and burned, and every time she moved, she could feel blood drip down her spine.
She’d dressed carefully in silky clothes that draped across her body and covered the symbols etched onto her back. Golden bands wrapped around her throat, the black cloth tied on them flowed down her curves. She’d left her arms bare of everything except the golden bracelets.
She was going to go with her gentle routine tonight; slow, sinuous movements that wouldn’t pull at her wounds. The black would hide the blood.
“Break a leg,” Fanny replied absently.
Shula stared at her friend. Her eyes were wide and bright, and she was smiling too widely, as if nothing between them had changed. As if they were back to before she knew the truth about Shula. It was nice to not have her glaring at her with suspicion. It was nice to know that there was a bright side to all of this.
“Break yours first.” Shula smiled and bent down to ruffle Fanny’s hair like she usually did. Fanny didn’t tense or pull away. She smirked as though all was right and well in the world.
And it was.
Those were Shula’s thoughts as she stepped out and began her routine.
The night dragged on painfully, and Shula was exhausted by the end of it. She just wanted to crawl over her pillows and fall into a dreamless sleep, but the moment their acts ended, Fanny looped her arm through Shula’s and smiled up at her.
“I’m exhausted. Dessert first?”
It was such a normal thing to say, that even feeling bone-deep tired, Shula couldn’t deny her. They walked around, watching the circus goers stumble away, high on popped corn and sparkling drinks, with empty pockets, prizes, and a lifetime of memories. That’s what the circus was; it’s what it signified to others and specifically to Shula. It was new beginnings and memories and happiness.
Fanny drug her all around the stands and together they had their fill of caramel apples, chocolate-dipped bread, sweet meats and vegetables on kabobs, and sparkling cider that Fanny insisted on drinking, one heavy drink after another that made Shula dizzy on her feet.
Feeling full and ready to burst, they stumbled towards the back of the circus where their tents were set up. Shula nearly tripped. Her head felt dizzy, her vision groggy.
“I think I drank too much,” she complained, wrapping an arm around her stomach. “I think my back is bleeding again.” The material of her skirts clung to her soaked bandages, and she knew it would be painful to rip away. “I need Davina to look at the wounds...”
“I can do that for you,” Fanny offered, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Heat pricked at the backs of Shula’s eyelids, and she forced it away. “You’d do that?” The alcohol mixed into the cider was making her head swim, and she didn’t like it. Shula didn’t usually drink the fruity drinks because they messed her up worse than straight alcohol ever could. She liked fruity things, but in pastries, not in her alcohol. She could usually drink a lot and not feel the effects. Perhaps she’d drunk more than she realized?
“Of course,” Fanny said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
The statement moved Shula. She threw her arm around her, Fanny’s small body keeping her upright. “We are, aren’t we?” While her feet wobbled, her voice didn’t slur or come out distorted in any way. She tried to steer Fanny towards her own tent, but Fanny veered off the pathway and led them down towards the river.
“Let’s just do it down here,” she suggested. “I’ll need water to clean your wounds and we can’t carry buckets of it to your tent.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
