Fire Dancer

by Catherine Jones Payne

  Now I was well and truly alone. Humidity and the scent of sweat still hung on the air, somehow more noticeable in the isolation. I wrinkled my nose.

  The torches weren’t lit yet, and the faint light of sunrise only cast a gentle glow through the fabric of the tent. I’d never seen it so dark in here. I marched over to the nearest torch and whispered an incantation in ancient Eirian, cupping my hand near the torch’s wick. A ball of fire blazed to life in my hand, and I held it up to the wick, smiling as the light caught and flamed bright.

  Then I shook my hand to extinguish the rest of the flame. Let Deirdre assume I’d brought in a candle to light the torch, or that Papa had come with me and lit it himself. I would privately delight in the secret that I’d used magecraft.

  With a satisfied exhale, I strode over to the collection of props along the tent wall. The solo from Scarlet Moon used a long wand with a flame on each end, and two fans.

  The wand was easier to work with, but I couldn’t wrest my gaze from the fans. An idea started to stir in the back of my mind.

  An idea that no one would approve of. Except Nolan.

  I gripped the fans and, first glancing back at the tent flap to ensure I had no witnesses, lit them with a whispered word.

  I held them out, testing their weight and feel in my hand. Then I ran to the center of the tent and stood a moment, counting the beats of music in my head.

  This was the final move of Scarlet Moon. I started in a plie, one leg extended to the floor, my toe pointed. Then my feet shifted into a tight spin, and I held one fan above my head and the other to the side so that, as I spun, it created the illusion of a seamless circle of light.

  The music in my head slowed, and I came out of the spin and grasped with all my focus onto the threads of magecraft that seemed to dance around the burning fans. As I struck a pose on pointe, I twisted my wrist and mouthed a word. A shower of a thousand sparks burst out of the fan, floating to the ground as embers all around me.

  I grinned. Breanna had always sent a handful of sparks flying with that move just by twisting the fans with her wrist—they were designed to cast off a few sparks. But I’d used magecraft to perfect it. To push it beyond the bounds of dancing. If only I could use it in a show—or the audition. But it was too dramatic. Too many sparks. The council was likely to recognize it as magic.

  Too bad.

  I whirled around and took position again, ready to practice the move once more.

  But I stopped, panic gripping my throat.

  Staring at me from the entrance to the tent, her arms crossed, stood Shayla.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “Practicing,” she said, her voice hard. “Same as you.”

  An awkward silence hung between us, and I scrambled for words. “Sounds good. I’ll take this side; you can stay over there.” I strode a few paces away to give her more space. My heart pounded. What had she seen?

  “What did you do back there?” she asked.

  I turned back to study her, keeping my face relaxed and neutral. “What do you mean?”

  “How’d you make the fans spark like that? Even oh-so-perfect Breanna never pulled that off. And you’re no Breanna. You’ve just barely started practicing.”

  My mind lurched for an explanation but came up blank. I shrugged, hoping my face looked sufficiently mysterious. “A dancer never reveals her secrets. Especially not to the competition.”

  Shayla twisted a strand of golden hair around her index finger, and I held my breath. Had she seen my whispered incantation? A nagging memory started to rise up in my chest. Something I’d almost forgotten about.

  After a moment, she said, “How’s Nolan doing?”

  My stomach churned, and that nagging memory exploded on me like a backdraft. When we were children, when Shayla and I were still friends, I’d told her once that Nolan was teaching me magecraft. She’d never brought it up again. Especially not since we stopped speaking to each other. But with one look at her face, I knew she knew.

  And I feared what she might do with that information.

  I swallowed. “He’s doing really well. Working as a blacksmith. Still apprenticing.”

  She cast a long glare in my direction and then turned her back on me and strode over to the tent wall, toward the equipment.

  I made a noise of frustration in the back of my throat and then moved into position to practice the spin. I didn’t dare release the shower of sparks again, not with Shayla scrutinizing my every move.

  But, oh, how I wanted to.

  When Deirdre appeared, she nodded at Shayla and me but gave us no other reaction. I wanted to grouch that I’d arrived before Shayla, but I knew it was childish and petulant.

  After just a moment, Shayla pranced over to confer with Deirdre, and I held my breath. Was she ratting me out? Telling Deirdre that I’d used fire magic while practicing my spin?

  But then Shayla launched into a pirouette, and Deirdre stepped back, studying her form. When Shayla finished and looked up expectantly at Deirdre, she was rewarded with a nod and a warm smile.

  I grumbled under my breath, stalked over to the water barrel, and took a long sip from the ladle. The water soothed my parched throat but not my irritation. Leave it to Shayla to get on Deirdre’s good side. Probably more effective than playing schooltent tattletale. But I couldn’t suppress the tendril of fear. Shayla had tucked the observation away in her pocket, just in case she ever needed to pull it out.

  One by one, the other dancers arrived, and the tent started getting warmer. It would be a scorching day—and a long one. I wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead and threw myself into a tight turn.

  Practice started precisely on time, as it always did, when the violinist struck up the first melody. We spent the first half working on our routine for tomorrow night’s performance, and I assiduously avoided any eye contact with Shayla. Then Deirdre announced that we were going to practice for the Phoenix audition. My heart beat faster, and I clenched my fists.

  I could do this.

  Breanna flitted to the front to join Deirdre, every step elegant and serene. Sorrow broke through my excitement. My sister wasn’t ready to give this up. I didn’t want her to lose this role. But there was no changing her pregnancy, or what it meant for her future.

  Deirdre jerked her head toward the tent flap. “Anyone who doesn’t intend to audition for Phoenix can go now. The rest of you, stay. Breanna and I will start teaching you the dance.”

  Shayla, of course, already knew the whole dance. She was the understudy, after all. And Breanna had taught me a few sections of it on our tour through Parkano. But while the other girls might know a few steps from observing Breanna, they hadn’t had any cause to learn this dance yet.

  Most of the dancers left—girls who had just joined the troupe, or who were about to announce a betrothal, or who were content to be a fire dancer of the Fintan, or who didn’t think they had a chance of making Phoenix and didn’t want to submit themselves to the arduous training.

  But seven of us stayed. I studied my competition. Ciara. Nuala. Taryn. Faline. Aislinn. Not surprising.

  They were worthy dancers, all of them. Any one of us stood a chance. But one dancer stood out above the others.

  Shayla.

  I bit my lip as Deirdre brought Shayla to the front alongside Breanna to demonstrate the dance.

  Shayla’s lines were refined, delicate, perfectly graceful. Even if the judging was fair, she would be difficult to beat. I’d have to work harder than I’d ever worked in my life.

  Because I needed this more than I needed air.

  Chapter Eight

  I arrived home exhausted and sore and covered in sweat, longing for an endless drink of water and a long night’s sleep. It wasn’t nearly nighttime, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t meeting Nolan today—he’d said his papa needed him to work late in the smithy—and there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to see.

  But I drew up short when I stalked into the tent. For there
, sitting across the table from my mama, was a man I’d never seen before.

  A man who looked very like . . . Nolan.

  I froze. My mind buzzed. I couldn’t comprehend the scene in front of me.

  “Kyla,” my mama said with a too-sweet smile. “I’m sure you’ve met Dallan.”

  I bowed my head to hide my shock. “I’m afraid I haven’t,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Malone. Nolan speaks highly of you.” I glanced back up, hoping I’d masked my surprise.

  “I wish I could say I’m as familiar with you as you are with me,” he said, but his smile was gracious. It reminded me so much of Nolan’s. “Your mama sent me a message a few days ago, and I had to come for myself to meet the girl my son spends all his time with. His absences the last few days make more sense now.”

  My mouth opened and then closed again.

  He waved his hand. “To be sure, Nolan mentioned a friend. I should have inquired more closely. I didn’t realize the friend to be a lovely young woman.”

  “Is that a problem, sir?”

  “Nay. Not a problem.”

  Mama lost her composure and harrumphed.

  “Although,” he added. “Nolan will certainly have to explain himself. But that’s not your fault, my dear.”

  Mama stood up and crossed over to me in two strides. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she said, “Dallan and I agree that perhaps you and Nolan shouldn’t spend so much time together.”

  A flash of something that looked like consternation crossed Mr. Malone’s face, like he’d started to correct Mama but then thought better of it. I liked him more already.

  “Well,” I said, “that’s something Mr. Malone can take up with Nolan. And something you and Papa can come to an agreement on.”

  A chuckle escaped Mr. Malone, and Mama shot him a withering glare.

  “If you’ll excuse me”—I slipped past Mama to the small water bucket on the corner of the table, bringing a ladleful to my lips—“I’ve had a long day of practice, and I’m exhausted.”

  I chugged another ladleful of water and then turned around and glided through the tent flap into my room. Mama didn’t dismiss me, but neither did she stop me.

  “Well,” she huffed from the main room. “I never. I’m terribly sorry for Kyla’s rudeness, Dallan. It was good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

  Mr. Malone’s reply was too low for me to make out, but I could hear him stand up. Relief flooded me.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet Nolan’s family. On the contrary. But not like this. Not with my hair plastered to my head with sweat. Not when Mama had ambushed me. Certainly not with Mama apologizing for me when I didn’t respond the way she wanted me to. I sank back on my bedroll.

  The tent rustled, and Papa’s voice filled it.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he called in a cheery voice. “Dallan Malone, back from the dead.”

  I stifled a smile. Leave it to Papa to defuse a tense situation. He was used to Mama’s schemes by now, and I didn’t imagine he was at all surprised to find Mr. Malone at our table.

  The voices faded away as the tent fabric shifted again, and I guessed that Mr. Malone and Papa had left. Maybe Mama too. I relaxed more deeply into my bedroll but shuffled the blankets aside. Too warm for blankets.

  But I couldn’t relax fully. Couldn’t quiet my mind. I thought back to this morning, when I’d met Shayla’s eyes across the tent. I’d been so immersed in the dance that I hadn’t heard her come in.

  And she knew my secret. She’d seen me use magecraft.

  Did she think I was planning to use magecraft to beat her in the audition? It wouldn’t be cheating, exactly. There was no formal rule against it. There didn’t have to be, since women weren’t instructed in magecraft. But she had nothing to worry about. If I used forbidden magic, I risked the council detecting it. Questioning me. If they ever found out how versed I was in magecraft, they’d demand to know where I’d learned it.

  I flipped onto my side and clutched my pillow to my chest as if it could block out all the pain and doubt in my world.

  I wasn’t ready to tell the council about Nolan yet. Not until I’d figured out a way to convince them to give Nolan’s family another chance.

  They weren’t likely to look kindly on a defector who’d taught magecraft to his son, nor on a young man who had taught it to a woman.

  Nay, the risk was too high. The secret was too dangerous. We needed to be sure our plan would work before we acted.

  But if Shayla thought I was scheming, would she sabotage me? Would she tell her papa, the thane? Or the rest of the council? Or Deirdre?

  My thoughts raced. Might she try to have me disqualified from the audition? Kicked out of the troupe? Thrown out of the clan altogether? I didn’t think her animosity ran that deep, but after so many years of hatred between us . . .

  The thought sent a shiver through me despite the stuffy air. I squeezed my pillow more tightly.

  I couldn’t just talk about formulating a plan to get Nolan admitted to the clan. For years I’d thought about it, but always as something to do “someday.” But if Shayla knew—about the magecraft, about Nolan—I was running out of time. If Shayla decided to tell her papa about my magecraft . . . I could be kicked out of the troupe. Even expelled from the clan if the council was in a bad mood. Nolan’s papa might even be dragged before the council and put on trial for practicing and teaching the elemental fire outside the clan.

  And if Shayla could win the Phoenix role by ruining my life, I didn’t think she’d blink.

  I needed to figure out how I’d plead with the council. And soon.

  If I didn’t, I’d lose Nolan forever.

  The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I hurried down the path. It had been another long day of practice, and I’d barely taken the time for a sponge bath before racing out of the tent to find Nolan.

  I hoped he’d be at our usual meeting place by the creek. That his papa wasn’t keeping him home. Dallan had seemed friendly enough, but almost . . . perturbed. Does he not want us to be friends? Will he try to stand in the way, like Mama?

  My thoughts circled in on themselves as I angled off the path and ducked into the grove.

  Nolan was waiting in our usual spot, perched on the edge of a rock on the riverbank, dangling his feet into the current.

  The tension in my shoulders released. I joined him on the rock, plunging my sandaled feet into the cool water. After another long day of dancing, it felt like paradise.

  “You okay?” I asked, brushing my hands on the rock’s mossy surface.

  He shuffled to the side to make room for me and ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Did my papa come to visit you yesterday?”

  “Aye. I think Mama invited him.”

  He splashed the water with his foot. “What’d he say?”

  “Not too much.” I chuckled. “I slipped away pretty quickly. Didn’t know what to say. Mama sprung the whole situation on me. What’d he tell you?”

  He reached out and took my hand. Warmth flooded my stomach.

  “He’s worried about me,” he said. “But he tries not to show it.”

  “My papa’s like that too. Mama doesn’t want me to see you anymore, but Papa . . . he . . .” I blinked rapidly. “He told me he doesn’t think I’ll stay with the Fintan forever.”

  Nolan reached out and cupped my chin. “Does that surprise you?”

  I shrugged away from him and gazed down at the rippling water. “I’ve just never pictured myself leaving before. Not really. My family is here. My whole life is here, except for you.”

  “Why does your papa think you’ll leave?”

  I lost myself in the rippling current for a moment to try to numb the pain in my chest, and then I said, “He doesn’t think I’ll be happy here. He thinks my ambitions are too big for the festival. At least since I’m a woman and the council doesn’t give me many options.”

  “Do you think he’s right?”

  I reached down, plucked a
pebble out of the mud, and tossed it into the creek. “I wish I knew. I want to be like Breanna. To dance as the Phoenix. But I want more than that. Always have. I want to be a mage.”

  Nolan leaned back, gazing up at the pink-and-orange tinted sky. “What if we’ve been thinking about this the wrong way?”

  I pulled my feet out of the water and propped them on the rock to dry. “What do you mean?” I didn’t think I was going to like his answer.

  “I know . . . what I said before. That I didn’t want to push you to make any decisions too young or too fast. And I meant it. Every word. But what if your papa’s right? What if we shouldn’t be thinking about ways to get my family in, but how to get you out?”

  I bit down hard on my lip. Was it foolish of me to hope that life wouldn’t demand sacrifices of me? To think that I was special, that somehow I could have everything I wanted? A life with Nolan? A place in the clan? The chance to practice magecraft in the open? To—someday—have babies and take care of them and make a name for myself as a mage?

  Nay. When I thought about it like that, when I laid out the future I so desperately wanted, not even I could raise my hopes that high. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try for it. But I needed to prepare myself. To recognize that, if I failed, I’d face a difficult choice.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  He heaved a long sigh. “This is the biggest decision of your life. Take all the time you need.”

  Chapter Nine

  I flicked a pinch of flour into Breanna’s hair.

  “Hey!” she said, her jaw dropping in mock outrage. She ran her hand through her fiery tresses and then dipped the ladle into the bucket and flung a splash of water at me.

  I shrieked and ducked away before returning to the table, laughing, pulling my sweater tighter around myself on this unseasonably cool day.

  We were in Breanna’s tent, baking bread. It was the troupe’s day of rest, and my sore muscles told me I’d earned it.

  Deirdre always worked us hard, but training to audition for Phoenix was exhausting. My admiration for Breanna had climbed to new levels this week. And I was grateful to get to spend this time with her on our day off.