Page 2 of A Dance With Fire
“Wait for me and we can go get some sugared scones.” Fanny slipped from Shula’s hold and pushed aside the curtains. It was her turn to go on, and a small peek at the crowd showed that they’d diminished slightly compared to only a few moments before. Fanny threw a knowing look over her shoulder, lips pursed, just before she disappeared into a sea of velvet.
Shula peeked out to watch Fanny take her position. Her act was Shula’s favorite because the woman wasflexible.She could fold her body into epic proportions, twist and mold herself and fly over the audience from rope to rope. It was wild. It was free.
Fantasia did her act with the same freedom she lived through life. With wild abandon. For a moment, Shula’s own heart lurched, and she wondered what it would be like to feel that. To not wander with a mask placed carefully over her entire self. To be genuinely happy with life and to not hide the most essential parts of herself from a world that wanted her dead.
She supposed she would never know what it felt like, to fly like a bird, to soar and freefall knowing that you could catch yourself on the way down.
And Shula would just have to live with that.
2
Davina’s Fortune and Tarot Readings
Fanny looped her arm through Shula’s with an energy that buzzed between them like lightning. She bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet before tugging her away from the main white-and-red tent. Midnight had long left them and their final acts had been performed. The circus was still bright with activity and excited spectators ran across the field.
The smell of popped corn, sugared pastries, caramel and chocolate covered fruits, and fresh flavored waters hung in the air. Her stomach growled loudly and Fanny chuckled, changing directions so she was pulling her towards the section where the foodstuffs were sold.
“Dessert first,” the small woman declared.
“You know me so well.” They stopped before a stand that sold fried balls of salted dough covered in sparkling white sugar. The pastries glittered like diamonds and were as beautiful as they were delicious.
“How many will it be?” the surly man named Wells asked with a bored voice.
Fanny unhooked her arm from Shula’s and placed her hands defiantly on her hips and stared at the much taller, bigger man. “Now, don’t take that tone with me.”
He scratched his scraggly hair and muttered, “Sorry, Fanny. It’s been a rough day.”
Traveling to Tuath was always stressful. It was where most of the emperor’s soldiers were stationed and it always took so long to get there. Shula understood his weariness. She felt it herself down to her bones.
Soldiers were everywhere, scattered all around the empire, but Tuath had them in abundance because this was where the Fae camps were.
Just thinking about the iron encampments made a shiver slice down the length of her spine. Iron was deeply embedded into every city across every kingdom and she could taste it in the air. It made her eyes water and her breathing shallow, but like always, she plastered on a smile if only to pretend nothing bothered her at all.
Not even here, where it all began. Where she’d found Piriguini’s Circus and had forged a new life for herself. She had to admit, there was a certain melancholy here. While there was excitement in the air and the people were happy that the circus served as a distraction against politics and everything else in the world, it still didn’t help stray her attention from the WANTED posters that crinkled beneath her feet as she walked. Balled up parchment with sketched images of faces that hurt to look at. Slashing lines of Fae and Fae sympathizers in bold, charcoaled strokes.
Discreetly, she pushed one aside with her foot that the wind carried towards her. She barely caught a glimpse of the face on it and forced herself to look away. She knew what would be portrayed there.
Pointed ears and elongated canines that were a complete exaggeration. Fae were beautiful, but this artist had all but announced the pure hatred and fear with each dark line across the parchment. Whoever had drawn it had made this particular Fae look like an abomination.
A monster.
Shula barely heard Fanny and Wells engage in conversation around her. Her heart was pounding, and her lungs were aching. The day was taking a toll on her. Not just the dancing, but the pretending. She was tired, so tired of the world and her circumstances. But if she didn’t keep up with the pretense, she would die. Or worse, her face would be etched onto posters just like the Fae beneath her sandaled foot.
A monster he may have looked like, but she could see the dark head of hair tied back in a knot. She wondered how much of a glimpse they’d gotten of him. How much of a likeness this portrait really was.
She wondered, if she was ever caught, would they makeherlook like a monster too?
“Shules!” Fanny wrenched her out of her thoughts by waving a pastry beneath her nose.
Shula’s mouth watered instantly. “Oh, thank goodness.” She yanked the confection from her friend’s hands and all but inhaled it down her throat. Flakes of sugar clung to the sides of her mouth, and she dusted them off with the back of her hand.
“Your manners are despicable,” Fanny teased, eating her pastry much more slowly.
Shula smirked, but inside anxiety rose to choke tightly at her chest. If she ate too fast, it was because Shula knew what it was to go hungry. She knew what it was to be rail thin, with skin clinging to bones like nothing more than a wraith or a living ghost.
The truth was, she could alter her appearance all she wanted. She could diminish her beauty, suppress her magic, pretend to be human rather than Fae. But the phantom pain of stabbing hunger in her gut was something she would never forget.
“Can I have a chocolate covered one next?” Shula was already reaching for the confection.
