I swallowed.
“But,” he continued, “even once it seemed alright to let my two worlds meet, the timing never felt right. Because I was afraid of this conversation. I didn’t know how to tell you any of this.”
“You can always tell me anything,” I whispered.
He hung his head. “I know. I shouldn’t have kept it from you. And when I was young—”
Aidan and Zaira bolted back onto the path in a flurry of laughter, and Zaira pulled up short.
“We interrupting something?” she asked in a teasing voice.
Nolan flapped his hand at her. “Shut up, Zare.” But his eyes sparkled, and she seemed to take no offense.
As we continued down the path toward the farmhouse, I tried to process everything Nolan had said.
I’d known he didn’t like talking about his family. It wasn’t fair of me to object to that after so many years. But my heart still shrank from the truth that I hadn’t even known he had a twin. That thought spun over and over in my head like the endless running of a stream.
What else was he hiding from me?
A clearing opened up in front of us, and I blinked to take it all in. A cozy white farmhouse surrounded by two fields—one with a flock of sheep and the other with four cows—and a lush garden. At the far end of the garden were a dozen fruit trees, and on the other side stood a square red barn.
It looked like something out of a storybook.
I turned to Nolan with a little gasp. “This is your home?”
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
We walked past a circular well covered by a mossy roof and then over a set of stepping-stones that led through the garden and up to the front door.
Zaira unlocked the door and led us inside. I blinked against the sudden dimness.
We were in a large room with comfortable furnishings that I ached to slouch into. My backside was sore from the day in the boat. To my right stood a doorway that seemed to lead into a kitchen, and across the room was a dim hallway. Perhaps the bedrooms lay back that way.
It all felt so cozy and homelike and . . . permanent.
A permanence I’d imagined but never encountered. The clan was always camping and breaking camp, always moving on or preparing to do so. Often, we returned to the same campsites, but we never settled down for good. I loved that life—the novelty, the adventure.
But what the Malones had? That seemed like a pretty good life too.
“What do you think?” Nolan squeezed my hand.
I grinned at him. “I think I need to sit in one of those chairs.”
He laughed aloud and beckoned me forward. “Be my guest.”
I took a step, then froze as the floor creaked underneath me.
“It’s just the old wood,” Zaira said. “It creaks. Don’t worry about the noise.”
Though I vaguely wondered if the floor was about to collapse, I stepped forward gingerly, mincing my way toward a chair with the fattest cushions I’d ever seen.
We kept our own furniture as small as possible—a necessity when the encampment moved every month or two.
I sat down on the cushioned chair and then leaned back into its embrace, my eyes widening. I was sinking into the softness like an animal caught in a trap.
Nolan and his siblings burst into laughter.
“What?” I demanded. But I didn’t scramble up to try to salvage my dignity. Nay, I was far too comfortable for dignity.
Heavy footsteps approached the cottage from the outside, and a moment later, the door opened, and Nolan’s papa and older brother walked in.
“What’s so funny?” asked Nolan’s papa, a good-natured smile on his face.
“Kyla’s never sat in a real chair before,” said Nolan.
His papa chuckled. “Nay, I expect not. Everything’s lightweight in camp. Makes it easier to move.”
I wasn’t sure I could move if I tried. The long day had exhausted me, and it felt like I’d come to rest in a cloud.
“Hogan, Zaira,” Nolan’s papa called, “come help in the kitchen.”
Hogan and Zaira trailed behind him, leaving Aidan, Nolan, and I alone. A moment later, the sound of flowing water in the kitchen caused me to tilt my head, but I didn’t ask. Between the boat and the comfortable chair, I’d already shown too much of my ignorance for one day. It was probably a spigot of some kind. Terra Market had those.
Aidan crouched on the floor and looked up at me. “So, Nolan says you dance in the show?”
“Aye. Just in the troupe for now. My older sister’s the Phoenix, but she’s retiring. Auditions are soon.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re going to be the next Phoenix?”
I sighed, the breath coming from deep in my stomach. “I hope so. The competition’s fierce.” Shayla’s face flashed in my mind.
“I bet,” he said. “Surely everyone wants it.”
“Not everyone,” I said. “But . . . enough of them.”
“You’ll make it,” Nolan declared, striding up beside me and nestling into the chair next to mine. “I have no doubt.”
“Oh, I have plenty of doubts,” I said. “But, as long as it’s not Shayla, right?”
He snorted.
“Who’s Shayla?” Aidan asked.
I groaned. “My cousin.”
“She’s the worst,” Nolan added.
“Oh, what’d she do?” Aidan leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands.
I sank deeper into the chair. How could I explain what had happened between Shayla and me, when I didn’t fully understand it myself? “It wasn’t one big thing. Not at first. It was a lot of little things that added up over time. When we were eleven or twelve, she started pushing me away. And then one day she told me we weren’t friends anymore. And she’s been a raging”—I glanced toward the kitchen—“brat ever since. She wants to make sure she’s better than everyone else and that they know it. And she has a particular dislike for me.”
Aidan tilted his head. “Do you threaten her?”
I squinted down at him. “What do you mean?”
“Does she feel inadequate around you, do you think?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s anything like that. We used to be friends. We grew apart once I started spending more time practicing—”
Nolan nudged me hard, and I fell silent and looked at him, confused.
He shook his head slightly.
Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
I wracked my mind. What did Nolan not want me to say?
“When I started spending time doing other things,” I finished, my cheeks hot. It was a stupid way to finish the sentence. Aidan would know we were hiding something. Before he could push further, I blurted, “So, tell me about you. What does Nolan’s mysterious twin brother do with his time?”
He raised an eyebrow, and I knew that he saw through my trick, but he didn’t call out my transparent effort to change the subject. “Oh, I’m training to be a blacksmith,” he said. “With Nolan. He and I are going to run Papa’s smithy someday.”
“Are you, now?” I turned my head to face Nolan. “When were you going to tell me about that ambition?”
He shrugged. “You knew I was learning to be a blacksmith.”
The cold feeling in my stomach had turned into a block of ice. I hated how little I seemed to know about him. Maybe I was being oversensitive. I hoped so.
But I looked at Aidan. “What do you like about blacksmithing?”
His eyes lit up. “I like the fire. We’re not supposed to use it. Not the way the Fintan do.” He glanced down at his hands. “But fire awakens my blood. Makes me feel alive. And in a smithy, I’m around fire all the time. I can’t do the work without it.”
My heart went out to him. How cruel it seemed to keep someone of Fintan blood from practicing fire. Even the women were taught the most basic fire magic—two elementary techniques for extinguishing fire, and how to keep an existing spark strong and contained—though we weren’t technically allo
wed to use those skills except in the direst of emergencies. We girls weren’t supposed to know how to summon fire from the air, but if we had a spark, we could fan it to life if we had to.
The flames were in our blood and marrow.
“I’m glad you’ve found something that makes you feel alive,” I said.
My thoughts carried me away. Something that makes you feel alive.
Did dancing make me feel alive? I was good at it. I succeeded, surpassing most of the others around me in skill. But it didn’t bring me to life.
It made me tired.
I was sure Breanna got tired when she danced, too, but her eyes were bright at the end of practice—and especially at the end of a show.
I felt like that when I practiced magecraft.
But I shook away the thoughts. They were far too brooding and introspective for mulling over in this moment.
So I asked, “What’s it like, living out here on a farm?”
Aidan started talking about early morning chores, and working with the earth wizards they employed, and the joy that came with being close to the land. I half-listened—my mind kept trying to return to that all-encompassing question: Does dancing make me feel alive?
Breanna’s words rang in my head. Don’t let them trap you.
Zaira poked her head through the doorframe. “Dinner’s ready!”
I struggled to push myself up out of the chair and tumbled out of it, slumping to the floor. How graceful. I’ve definitely moved like a dancer today.
“It smells great!” I called to Zaira, scrambling to my feet
She grinned shyly at me and then ducked back into the kitchen.
Nolan beckoned me ahead, through the doorway, and I walked into the kitchen. In the corner, near a large window overlooking the fruit trees, sat a round table that had been set for all of us. On a stove on the far side of the room, a pot of soup bubbled, and Zaira was just pulling bread out of the wood-burning oven.
I blinked. How had she baked it so fast? But I wasn’t about to ask another dumb question.
She turned around and took in the expression on my face, and her laugh rang out across the room. “We baked it this morning. I was just warming it a little. Tastes better that way, I think.”
Hogan and Mr. Malone both reached for bowls on the table.
“Grab a bowl,” said Mr. Malone. “And then help yourself to some soup off the stove.”
Zaira grabbed a knife and cut six thick slices off the loaf of bread, laying them out alongside the simmering pot of soup. Nolan grabbed two bowls from the table, handing one to me on his way over to the stove. I stepped up behind him.
The smell was heavenly.
When I ladled it into my bowl, I saw it was a thick stew with generous chunks of beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions. I grabbed my piece of bread and followed Nolan back to the table, taking the seat next to his.
The chairs here weren’t as comfortable as the chairs out in the main room of the house, but they were still nicer than what I was used to in the camp.
Aye, part of me could get used to this kind of life.
I reached for the large wooden spoon at my place setting and dipped it into the stew. When I ladled it to my mouth, I closed my eyes to savor the moment. It tasted as good as it smelled.
“Jouko’s man came by again this morning,” Aidan called to Mr. Malone. “While you were at the smithy.”
Mr. Malone groaned as he cut himself an extra slice of bread. “What did he want?”
“Same as usual.”
“We’re not selling your mama’s farm, and that’s final,” said Mr. Malone.
“I told him that, like always.”
“Persistent, isn’t he?” Zaira said.
“Who’s Jouko?” I asked.
“Jouko Koskinen,” said Nolan. “Owns Terra Market and half the land in Orivesi. The Fintan High Council rents the festival grounds and the encampment from him.”
I nodded, trying to look like I knew what he was talking about. “Why is he so determined to buy the farm?”
Mr. Malone scoffed. “Why does he want to buy everything?”
I tilted my head, unsure what he meant.
“Power,” said Mr. Malone. “Power and wealth. If you control the land, you control the earth wizards.”
“And the earth wizards make up three-quarters of Orivesi,” Hogan chimed in.
“I see,” I said slowly.
“Why do you think so many of the earth wizards are impoverished though they’re so talented at bringing forth food from the land?” Mr. Malone asked. “At encouraging crops and trees to grow? When they can sense what the earth needs just by touching it?” He sat down across the table from me.
I took a drink of water and shook my head. I’d never thought to question it before. I mean, wasn’t it just because they weren’t organized like the Fintan were? But I didn’t think that was what Mr. Malone was getting at.
“It’s because of scoundrels like Jouko and his father before him. The Koskinens have been buying up the land parcel by parcel. Nine-tenths of the land in Orivesi and the surrounding counties are owned by just three families. The earth wizards can’t work their own land anymore. If they’re lucky, they get hired as wage laborers by one of the landowning families or rent a small plot to sharecrop at an enormous cost. Those are the ones who have enough to eat and sometimes a few coins to spare to treat their children to a spectacle like the fire festival. The less fortunate . . . well, they send their wives and daughters into the markets to make coin any way they can.”
I thought of the women in the low-cut dresses at Terra Market and lost my appetite for the soup.
“But enough about the problems of the world,” said Mr. Malone. “Kyla, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”
I took another sip of soup to give myself a moment to clear my head and think. Was there anything about me that would be interesting? “Well, I dance in the troupe,” I said. “But I think you might have known that already.”
He smiled. “Your mama mentioned it.”
I winced. “I’m sorry she dragged you in like that. She gets . . . protective sometimes.”
“As she should,” he said. “You don’t have to apologize. She’s worried about you leaving. Worried that you’ll get a taste of the outside world and never look back. But I told her she shouldn’t be so concerned. Sure, there is much that is wonderful about the outside world. Land-hoarding scoundrels like Jouko notwithstanding. I’m glad I left because I loved my wife, and I love my children. But the rest of it? I’d give it up to be home with the Fintan.”
My mind raced. Something about his statement felt wrong. Different than how Nolan had described his papa. I couldn’t suppress the sense that Mr. Malone was lying about something. But I maintained a serene expression and nodded. “Perhaps the council would let you back in if you petitioned.”
His eyes darkened. “They will not. When someone leaves, their choice is final.”
“That seems unjust.”
His jaw softened, and he looked at me with appreciation. “I agree. But it is unchangeable.”
Was I so transparent that he could see the plans I’d hatched, the hopes I’d dared to entertain? Or had Nolan told him?
“But I’d love to hear more about home,” he said. “Old Eamon’s the thane now, is he?”
I took another sip of soup and swallowed. “The challenge is coming up this time next year, but yes, Eamon’s thane for now.”
He studied me, his intense blue eyes piercing and demanding. “Eamon. He and your mama are brother and sister, aren’t they?”
“Aye, sir.”
He chuckled. “I’d nearly forgotten. Fancy that. Eamon and I knew each other pretty well back in the day. Never did get along.”
Well, there was something we had in common. “I don’t particularly get along with him, either,” I said.
He guffawed. “Your girl here has good taste,” he said, nudging Nolan. Then he turned back to me. “So, is Eamon popula
r? Or are there a lot of mages interested in a challenge?”
With a shrug, I replied, “I’ve heard there will be some challengers, but no one seems to think any real contenders are stepping forward.”
“Hmm. Has Eamon been practicing the duels to prepare for the challenge?”
An odd line of inquiry. I suddenly didn’t want to be here, in his house. It felt like Mr. Malone was trying to get information out of me. And that made me deeply uncomfortable. But I was only halfway into my bowl of soup, and I couldn’t think of a way to gracefully extricate myself.
I glanced at Nolan, but he was lifting a spoonful of soup to his lips.
“I’m really not sure,” I said finally. “We’re not close.”
“Where’s the festival going next?” Mr. Malone asked. “Nolan said you’re around for a month or two.”
I dabbed at my mouth with the napkin. “Two months,” I said. “And then on to Kuhmo.”
“Oh, really? Kuhmo is less than a day’s ride on horseback. I expect you and Nolan can see each other on occasion while the festival’s there.”
Hope fluttered in my chest, and my discomfort ebbed. Was Mr. Malone supportive of Nolan and our budding . . . whatever it was? Not a relationship, exactly. But we weren’t just friends either.
“Will you be back here this time next year, do you think?”
My attention snapped back to Mr. Malone, and that uncomfortable feeling crinkled in my chest again.
Why was he so interested in the inner workings of camp if he claimed they would never readmit him?
“Um . . .” I replied. “I don’t know that they’ve announced plans that far in advance yet.” I grasped at something to change the subject. “I hope so, though. I always welcome a chance to spend time with Nolan. And I’ve so enjoyed meeting everyone today.” I smiled at each of them in turn, and Zaira gave a wide-mouthed grin. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”
“Please come back,” Zaira said. “It’s been so fun to have another girl around. Usually I’m stuck with the boys all day.” She wrinkled her face and stuck her tongue out. “And they always smell bad.”
Nolan scowled and swatted half-heartedly in her direction. “We do not.”
“That’s what you think.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “But that’s because you’re so used to smelling yourself all the time.”
Fire Dancer Page 8
