Fire Dancer

by Catherine Jones Payne

  I chuckled but decided it was best not to intrude on this sibling squabble. The lighthearted banter continued, and as the sky outside turned pink and orange, I pushed back from the table. “This has been wonderful,” I said. “I’ve enjoyed every minute. But I’d best get home now, before Mama starts to worry too much about me.”

  Nolan jumped to his feet, the legs of his chair making a scraping sound against the wood. “I’ll walk you home.”

  I gave him a shy smile, phoenixflies fluttering in my stomach. Why was I nervous? I chided myself. This was Nolan. Aye, there was something between us—something wonderful and indiscernible that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But he was still my best friend. The boy I’d grown up running through the festival with.

  Why did romance make something that had once been so comfortable feel tingly and strange?

  I liked it—more than anything I’d ever liked before. But there was a sort of loss with it too. I didn’t want this attraction between us to ruin the easy friendship we’d always had. The joy and sadness danced a bittersweet waltz.

  Zaira got up to give me a hug goodbye, and then Aidan and Hogan jumped up from the table to join us, enveloping me in a group hug that felt like home.

  I didn’t want to leave the Fintan. Not for anything. But I couldn’t deny that my heart pulled toward this family too.

  I extricated myself from Nolan’s laughing siblings and walked toward the exit. When I reached the threshold, I turned and waved. Then Nolan opened the door, and we stepped out into the cool evening air.

  I closed my eyes and let my senses take it all in. The feel of humidity thick on my skin, the croaking of the frogs in the nearby pond, the musky smell of the animals. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

  He slung his arm around me as we walked. “I’m so glad you like it. And I told you my family would like you!”

  I sighed. “Zaira seemed to, I think. The others were harder to read.”

  “They loved you,” he said. “I know my papa was a little . . . intrusive with his questions at moments, but I promise you that’s just how he is. He approves.”

  “Well, that’s good. My papa does too. My mama . . .” I groaned. “Well, we’re just gonna have to give that time.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nolan kissed the top of my head when we reached the edge of camp. We lingered there for a moment amid the phoenixflies and the dusky twilight stars and the rapid beating of our hearts, and then I murmured a goodbye. Nolan turned away, heading toward the creek to return home, and I weaved between the tents of the encampment. So much confusion every way I turned. The crushing sense that I would have to choose between the people I loved most.

  When I ducked through the flap and into my own tent, Mama was sitting at the table, mending one of her shirts.

  She looked up at me, and her expression brightened. “There you are! I have news!”

  I didn’t like the gleam in her eye. “What?”

  Then she seemed to take in my appearance—my muddy hem and tousled hair—and her eyes narrowed. “Where were you today?”

  I swallowed but tried to keep my voice light and breezy. “Visiting with the Malones. We went boating on the lake.”

  Her jaw tightened. “I see. And you didn’t think to mention this to me ahead of time?”

  “Oh, I told Papa yesterday,” I said. I hated to throw him under the cart like that, but it was the truth. And it might save me from the worst of the tongue-lashing Mama was about to give me.

  She shook her head. “Your papa is being foolish by encouraging you to spend time with that boy.” Then she straightened and laid her mending down on the table. “But come, sit down.”

  My shoulders tensed. Mama should be angrier than this. Something was up. But I took six steps forward and sank into the wooden chair across from her. It felt so stiff after the cloud-soft chair that had enveloped me at Nolan’s house.

  “I’ve been talking with Caolinn.”

  My nose wrinkled. “Liam’s mama?”

  Then it dawned on me. The gleam in Mama’s eye. Her cheerful demeanor. And . . . Liam’s mama. Mama didn’t dislike Caolinn, but they weren’t close friends. Weren’t even really friends at all.

  But Liam was my age. Already two years into his mage training. A good Fintan boy.

  “Mama, no,” I said.

  She held up her hand. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  I shoved back from the table. “But I do know. And Liam and I are friends. I like him. But not like that. And he doesn’t have eyes for me either.”

  An image of Liam sprang to my mind. He was three inches taller than me with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and red hair like mine. Not unattractive. And very kind. He’d make a good husband to one of the other girls. Aislinn, I hoped.

  But not for me. He and I had never had those kinds of feelings for each other. And I certainly wasn’t going to steal him from Aislinn.

  She shrugged. “You can’t be sure of that. And things change. Your papa and I were talked into our match by our parents. And we’ve been very happy all these years.”

  I clenched and unclenched my fists. “This is not something I will entertain. And if Caolinn had talked to Liam before she talked to you, she’d know it isn’t something he’d entertain either.”

  Mama’s expression turned pleading. “Just hear us all out. We’re going to have Liam and his parents over for dinner next week, after the Phoenix audition.”

  I ground my teeth so hard they hurt. “You may have whoever you’d like to dinner,” I said. “But you cannot make me marry Liam. You know me better than that. And I won’t hear of a betrothal on my seventeenth birthday. Not to anyone.”

  Mama studied my face. “Not even to Nolan?”

  “No!” I cried, throwing out my arms. “I don’t want to marry anyone right now, Mama. I want to dance as the Phoenix for a long time before I’m married. Before I get pregnant like Breanna and have to give it all up.” My voice caught.

  Mama crossed her arms. “We should all be very happy for Breanna.”

  I stared at her. Of course I was happy for Breanna. I was excited to meet my new niece or nephew. But Mama hadn’t seen Breanna’s tears. Hadn’t heard the desperate confusion in her voice. Breanna wouldn’t have shown Mama any of that. She’d chosen to confide in me.

  Because Mama wouldn’t understand.

  I sighed. “We’re all very excited about the baby, but I don’t want to be pregnant a year from now. Breanna’s twenty. And I might want to wait even longer than she did.”

  “If you wait too long, you’ll have fewer men to choose from. Not even that Nolan boy will wait forever.”

  I wanted to retort that I had a whole world of men to choose from, but that wasn’t what Mama wanted to hear.

  “And,” she continued, “if you start rumors by running around with a boy from the outside . . . well, you know how people talk.”

  I raked a hand through my hair. “Why does that matter so much to you?”

  She pursed her lips. “Because, my dear, you may find that your marriage options narrow dramatically faster if people think you’re involved with Nolan in an improper way.”

  I gave a hiss of frustration through my teeth. “I told you we’ve never even kissed.”

  She held up her hand. “And I believe you. But that doesn’t mean rumors won’t grow.”

  “I don’t care,” I whispered. Then I turned around and stalked into my partitioned-off room.

  “Kyla,” Mama called after me, but I ignored her. I flopped onto my bedroll, still wearing my muddy clothes.

  How could she think that she could choose the man I’d spend the rest of my life with? Though the clan limited us, kept us confined in so many ways, refused to give us the same education they gave to boys, we were free to choose our own husbands. And most girls married at eighteen or nineteen, but we were also free to delay marriage as long as we saw fit.

  And I saw fit to delay it a long time. My fingers tangled i
n my hair. Marriage could wait. My dreams couldn’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I tossed and turned, unable to sleep even as last light faded from the sky, leaving our tent in darkness.

  I waited, counting forward, counting backward, breathing slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.

  And still I lay awake.

  Finally, I slipped on my sandals, got up, and peeked into the main room. All was still. From Mama and Papa’s room, I could hear Papa’s gentle snores. I snuck across the hard-packed dirt floor and through the tent flap into the open air.

  It had gotten chillier, but I still sensed the humidity when I sucked in a deep breath. The torches burned throughout the encampment, so I knew it wasn’t midnight yet. I wrapped my arms around myself and turned to walk . . . where, I didn’t know.

  But I wanted to get out of camp. Sit somewhere peaceful. Collect my thoughts. My feet scuffed along the gravel, and then I was on a familiar dirt path, headed toward the creek.

  My jumbled-up thoughts bounced around in my head, and I tried to untangle them one at a time. I certainly wasn’t going to let Mama dangle me as a prize for Liam’s family. Especially not when my heart was with someone else.

  Nolan’s blue eyes and sandy hair flashed in my head, and I smiled. Couldn’t help it. It welled up from the very core of my being.

  But I didn’t know for sure that Nolan was my future either. And there was no reason I needed to be sure of any of it. Eternal flame, I was sixteen. Why Mama wanted to push me into a decision I wasn’t ready for, I couldn’t fathom.

  I reached the edge of the trees and halted, peering into the darkness. Something about the deep blackness of the forest at night unnerved me, but I squared my shoulders and glided into the cover of the trees. I knew enough magecraft to walk alone without fear of wild animals or a man making violent advances. An adequate defense—enough to scare off an assailant—would only take a moment of focus, a whispered word, and a flick of my hand.

  But still, I counted my steps, hoping I’d reach our spot by the creek soon. For some reason, I knew I’d feel safer there, in a familiar place where I’d spent so many hours with someone I cared about.

  I wasn’t disappointed. As soon as the faint light of the moon glittered off the rushing water, a wave of relief overcame me. I slouched over to the big rock on the bank and sat, crisscrossing my legs beneath me. Closing my eyes, I imagined myself dancing, launching through the steps to Scarlet Moon perfectly, hitting every beat, moving with graceful fluidity across the stage. And then adding a flare of magecraft at the end, solidifying my victory over Shayla.

  The tiniest tinge of guilt nipped at the edge of my mind, but I pushed it away. I wasn’t technically cheating, and Shayla had tried to injure me. I wouldn’t feel bad.

  Especially not if I won.

  Out of the corner of my eye, the bush caught my attention—the one I’d accidentally set on fire a few days before. Even in the faint light that trickled down through the treetops, I could see its blackened branches.

  Could I weave the fire in and among them this time? As I thought about it, a spark floated just above the bush, and I drew back. I’d . . . caused a spark just with a thought. That was a first for me. My magecraft was getting stronger.

  I raised my head, prepared to clench my fist and extinguish the ember. But I hesitated, staring at the bright orange firefleck illuminating the night. I didn’t want to quell it. I wanted it to somehow light my path, showing me the way forward through all of the confusing choices people were throwing at me.

  So I let it hover above the bush another moment longer.

  The acrid smell of smoke flooded my nostrils, and I frantically inspected the bush, looking for flames. But it wasn’t on fire. The ember I’d formed was still hovering in place.

  So, why did I smell smoke? I snapped my hand closed, and the light went out.

  Tilting my head, I inched away from the creek and out of the trees toward the path, looking around for any sign of fire.

  It’s probably just a bonfire.

  But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew I was wrong. The smell was wrong. Wood was burning, yes. But not just wood. I searched the sky for smoke and just barely detected it billowing up toward the sky in the distance, dark black against the stars.

  Then I heard the scream, and my heart froze in my chest. It was far away, but it sounded . . . desperate. I looked down at my hands.

  Would the quellers get there in time? If I started running now, would I get there first?

  What would they say if they found out I knew the kind of magecraft necessary to extinguish an out-of-control blaze? And did I even know the magic well enough to do it?

  I shoved the thought aside and started running. It didn’t matter. A raging fire was deadly. I’d never forgive myself if someone died when I could have tried to save them. The gravel crunched beneath my sandals as I settled into the fastest jog I could reasonably sustain.

  Another scream, and then a deeper voice yelled. I kept running. Another five minutes, and I could hear the crackling of the fire. It sounded angry, like it was looking for someone to devour. And then, behind me, I heard the sound of hoofbeats.

  The quellers.

  I jumped off the road and ducked into the shadow of the trees.

  Ten seconds later, the horses and wagon rushed by me, five quellers crouched in the back of the wooden cart.

  The tension drained from my body. They’d arrived in time. They would save the people. I wouldn’t have to reveal my magecraft yet. Not before I was ready.

  I swallowed and looked down at my hands and then back up toward the smoke. The fire was just over the crest of the hill. I crept forward through the trees toward the hilltop. When I reached it, I crouched behind a tree to look down at the blaze.

  In a clearing at the base of the hill, a wooden structure was burning. But not a home, like I’d expected. No . . . this seemed like maybe a barn? A storehouse? Beyond the fiery building, three others, identical to it, stood in somber silence, as if they were waiting for an ember to jump free of the fire and set them ablaze too.

  Thank the eternal flame the quellers arrived before I did. This blaze was too large for me to put out on my own without resorting to dangerous, volatile tactics that I’d heard some of the boys talking about but hadn’t practiced myself.

  The quellers had jumped free of the wagon and were standing in a circle, positioned roughly equidistantly around the perimeter of the barn. As one, they reached one hand out toward the fire and the other up above their heads. I couldn’t hear them over the crackling of the flames, but I knew what they were about to say.

  “Brú,” I whispered along with them.

  They brought their raised hands down in a sudden movement. “Bás,” I murmured.

  The fire shrank, the flames flickering more slowly.

  The quellers raised their hands again. “Brú,” I whispered, as if I were taking part in the sacred magecraft.

  When they brought the pressure of the quelling magic down upon the blaze, the flames stuttered, growing smaller again.

  A third time. “Brú. Bás.”

  This time, the fire vanished, the flames extinguished in the space of a breath.

  I backed away. The quellers would stay for another hour, inspecting the ashes for any remaining live embers and searching for any sign of how the blaze had started, but I couldn’t be seen here, lest anyone speculate that I’d started the fire. Especially if there was an arsonist on the loose. I shivered at the thought and slipped away deeper into the forest, away from the quenched blaze.

  I followed the road back home but kept off to the side, obscured by the trees, where I was unlikely to be seen and still less likely to be recognized.

  Life had grown so complicated since we’d returned to Orivesi.

  The torches were extinguished by the time I made it back to camp. I weaved through the tents as silently as a shadow and hesitated when I reached my own home, holding my breath and listening for any m
ovement.

  I heard nothing except the gentle buzz of Papa’s snores. I slipped through the tent flap and back into my room, lying down on my bedroll. No more sneaking out for a while. I’d gotten away with it. This time. But if I had any hope of becoming Phoenix, I needed to be more careful.

  Mama was right—the Fintan did talk. And her nagging could easily become the least of my concerns.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Point your toes!” Breanna called.

  I extended my leg into a graceful arabesque and tossed the double-headed wand in the air, letting it spin three times before I caught it.

  I’d been practicing for twelve hours—first by myself before group practice, and now with Breanna coaching me. The smell of sweat in the practice tent was overpowering. My right toenail was bleeding, and my thighs had never hurt so badly in my entire life. But this was my sixth run-through of Scarlet Moon with Breanna. Twice, I’d executed the steps perfectly.

  Now we were trying to improve my artistry, to help me flow across the stage like Shayla, while spinning faster and jumping higher.

  I hadn’t shown Breanna the flourish I intended to add at the end. Nay, I’d practiced that this morning in the quiet hours, before anyone else had come to the dance tent.

  And I was sure that I knew exactly how to add the shower of sparks without raising suspicion. It was in the technique of my arm, flicking it a little wider and higher than I needed to at the same instant I breathed the word and let the magic pulse through my fingertips.

  “Relax your fingers!”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. She was right. My hands were as stiff as sticks. I’d been dancing too long today.

  Almost done. I launched into the final and most difficult move of Scarlet Moon, throwing the wand up above me and launching my body into a somersault. I stuck the landing, jutted my hip to the side, and snatched the wand out of the air, holding the pose for an extra beat.

  Breanna started clapping.

  I turned to look at her, and the proud expression on her face chased away all my doubts. I was ready.