And still the fire grew.
“I can’t!” I yelled. “You do it.”
“You have to,” he called. “You have to take control of it!”
I tried to calm my mind, to grasp at the quelling magic. But I still couldn’t access it. Then I summoned an image of Shayla’s smug face.
There it was. Three small, bright-white strands in my mind. I grabbed at them.
The fire flared bigger and hotter.
I tugged on the strands and felt the quelling magic fill me. Then I moved toward the flames, my hands outstretched.
“Die,” I muttered. I wasn’t sure if I was saying it to the fire or to the image of Shayla mocking me in my head.
Part of my mind recoiled. When had my anger at her become such vicious hatred?
“Brú!” I yelled. “Bás!” I brought the pressure of the quelling magic down upon the fire, and it sputtered, getting smaller. I took a deep breath, trying not to cough as the smoke tore at my lungs, and pressed the quelling magic onto the flames again.
The fire shrank again, and then suddenly exploded back to life, ballooning outward. I stumbled back.
This wasn’t working.
I looked at Nolan desperately. He was on his feet now, trying to quell it, and it wasn’t going out.
Panic flared in my chest. Why wasn’t it responding to the quelling magic?
I tried again. Nothing. Sweat trickled down my back.
But there was still one more thing I knew to try. Something I’d overheard Liam and Bard talking about but hadn’t put into practice.
Instead of extinguishing a fire by putting pressure on it, I could suck out all the air from around it.
It was an advanced magecraft tactic. One I definitely wasn’t supposed to know of, because it was particularly dangerous. Volatile. If I did it wrong, I could suck all the air out of my lungs and Nolan’s—crushing our chests and killing us both.
“Get back!” I waved my hands frantically at Nolan. “I’m putting it out.”
He set his jaw but nodded and took several steps back.
I wanted to take a deep breath to prepare myself, but the smoke and heat blazing off the inferno forced my breaths to stay quick and shallow.
A spark jumped off the blaze and ignited a nearby tree.
I needed to do this now.
I blinked, landing in the white maze in front of an empty pillar. But when I looked more closely, I realized it wasn’t really empty. Something almost like fog hovered above it, starting in a tiny, concentrated ball and bursting outward. But the symbol was faded and transparent—like it wasn’t all the way congealed yet.
It would have to do.
I forced my eyes open, took one last breath, and let the magic flow out of me and into the fire. “Inphléasc,” I whispered.
Please work.
I couldn’t look to see how far Nolan had backed away. I hoped that, if this went badly, I’d be the only one to die. That I wouldn’t hurt anyone else.
Especially not Nolan.
I pleaded wordlessly with the magic to keep us safe, as if it could hear me. And then three thin wisps of fog flowed from my hands into the center of the fire. Pressure built up inside me, begging for release.
The fog disappeared, but I knew it had formed a pocket in the middle of the flames. I sucked in a breath and then clapped my hands and released the tense, fidgety power in my chest.
The fire imploded, as if sucked into a tiny ball. A moment later, only a small orb of fog remained. It fell to the ground and rolled into a divot in the earth, solidifying into a perfectly round, white stone.
I took a step back, my heart pounding. I was alive.
I looked back, and my gaze alighted on Nolan. He was standing upright, his eyes wide and face flushed.
I exhaled all the smoke out of my lungs and sucked in a breath of clear, cool air. All traces of the fire had vanished. Not even a wisp of smoke remained.
My gaze drifted down to the marble, and I bent down and reached for it, my fingers closing around its smooth surface. It was unnaturally cold to the touch.
I stood back up and let the marble rest in my palm. On impulse, I held it up to my mouth and breathed on it, and it gave off a little steam.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” I asked Nolan.
He approached me, reached out, and traced the stone with his finger, drawing back in surprise when he touched it. “No . . . I’ve used that tactic a handful of times to put a fire out—just in practice—and the fog’s always evaporated. It’s never solidified like that.”
A turquoise phoenixfly fluttered past me, and I recognized that particular shade of fire. Hello, again.
I glanced down at the marble and then met Nolan’s gaze. “It almost looks like the walls of the maze. The color and sheen is right.”
He opened his mouth, but only stutters came out.
What the blazes is going on?
Chapter Twenty-Five
The days flowed into each other like the unending current of the creek. Soon, Deirdre declared my ankle healed enough to dance on, so dance I did. Even if it was still sore. The time passed in a blur—dance practice, training with Nolan, laughing with Breanna, and sleeping.
I did little else. But in my few moments of solitude, I often found myself pulling out that strange marble. Studying it. Wondering why it had appeared. I kept it in the pouch with the coal Nolan had given me as a gift.
Two weeks later, Deirdre clapped her hands when I arrived at practice. “There you are, Kyla. No dancing for you and Shayla today. You’re both learning the steps beautifully, and it’s time to get your hair painted.”
A thrill ran through me. Almost every member of the clan had blond or red hair. But the Phoenix was unique. To dance this role, we had to look the part. We had to look like fire.
So the Phoenix’s hair was always dyed, always in the same way—the root, dark brown, almost black, like coal. And the rest of her hair highlighted in crimson, orange, amber, and gold—the colors of the eternal flame. It was a symbol, an outward and visible sign of the inward reality—that the Phoenix, more than any other woman in the clan, represented the eternal flame.
As small children, Breanna and I had crushed ash into powder, brushed it over our roots, and danced through our tent in our clumsy, childlike way. Pretending to be the Phoenix. I’d cried for joy the day they painted Breanna’s hair.
And now it was my turn. After this, I really would be the Phoenix.
Deirdre shooed Shayla and me out of the practice tent. “Off with you now. Go to your dressing tables. Colleen will be there in a few minutes. Since there are two of you, I’m having Breanna help her.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I darted into the open sunlight and sprinted toward the practice tent. No reason for me to walk alongside Shayla and force both of us to pretend to be civil.
Especially when I had to summon a flash of anger at her every time I wanted to enter the magecraft labyrinth.
It wasn’t supposed to be that way. We were supposed to practice magecraft with a calm, peaceful mind. Like Nolan told me to. But some part of me suspected that, even with focused practice, I wouldn’t be able to replicate this new ability that so augmented my power if I focused on peace. I had to channel stronger emotions.
Even if using my anger was dangerous, I needed it to pass the mage test in time. Nolan had been practicing his whole life. I’d gotten magecraft in bits and pieces, a month or two at a time, for only a few years.
My jaw tightened as I ducked through the flap into the dressing tent. I needed those darker emotions.
I could only hope that they wouldn’t destroy me.
Sweet, grandmotherly Colleen, who had been the Phoenix when my own mama was a child, was already waiting in the tent. A twinkle shone in her eyes. “Kyla,” she said warmly, moving forward to hug me. “I’m so very proud of you.”
When she released me, I stepped back and scuffed the ground with my foot. “Thanks, Colleen,” I said. I wasn’t
shy by nature, but something about Colleen’s unconditional warmth always made me feel small inside. As if I didn’t measure up to her. I wished I could be half as compassionate and giving as she was.
The tent canvas rustled, and Shayla came in behind me.
“Shayla!” Colleen cried, rushing to embrace her.
Colleen even liked Shayla. Colleen did like everyone.
I gave a quiet little huff.
“Now,” Colleen called. “Sit down at your dressing tables, each of you. We’ll darken your roots first, and then weave the color in through the rest of your hair. Breanna will be here in a few minutes. She went down to Terra Market for amber dye. We only had enough for one dancer!” She chuckled. “Didn’t expect I’d get to be doing hair for you both.”
I spared a sideways glance at Shayla out of the corner of my eye, but Colleen didn’t seem to notice.
“Go!” She waved her hands. “Sit!”
Suppressing a little chuckle, I moved to obey, flouncing toward my own vanity without another glance at Shayla. I sank onto the stool, and a mound of heavy fabric smacked me from behind. I whirled around just in time to see Colleen toss a large black robe at Shayla. “Put these on over your clothes, girls. Keeps the paint off them.”
My robe had slumped to the floor, and I picked it up and shook it off. It was large, with oversized sleeves and buttons that ran all the way down the front. I shrugged into it, my fingers finding each tiny buttonhole. I’d just finished the last button when I heard Breanna’s voice.
“I was lucky to find any amber paint at all!” she cried. “Think I might have found the last jar of it in the whole market.”
“That’ll do,” called Colleen in her usual cheery voice. “I’ve mixed the dark brown here. Let me show you how to paint Kyla’s hair.”
They walked over, their loose skirts rustling. Breanna looked more relaxed than I’d seen her in weeks.
Colleen lifted a chunk of my hair. “Now, Breanna,” she said. “You’ll want to paint piece by piece, making sure that the dye touches every strand of hair, top and bottom. I’ll do the roots on both girls because it’s hard to cover any mistakes made with the dark dye. But I’ll have you do the other colors on Kyla, since those don’t have to be as precise.”
Colleen set a plate on the vanity table in front of me, and I took in the strong-smelling dye. A paintbrush rested atop the plate. Then Colleen grabbed a comb and ran it through my hair until every strand gleamed. “You ready?” she asked with a grin.
“Aye, ma’am!” I responded. Maybe too eagerly.
She dipped the end of the paintbrush into the dye and reached for a lock of my hair. I sucked in a breath. This was it. The transformation that would make it apparent to all that I was the Phoenix.
The dye felt cold when Colleen brushed it against my scalp. And the whole process took much longer than I expected. Colleen worked carefully with each piece of hair, conversing with Breanna in low tones. When she finished, she squeezed my shoulders. “We’re going to go do the same thing on Shayla’s hair, and then we’ll take you both down to the creek to rinse out the dye. Once your hair is dry, we’ll add in the colors.”
I could see why Deirdre had given us the whole day off practice.
Hours later—after two separate dips in the too-cold creek—Breanna stood behind me, ruffling my hair with a cloth. “There you go,” she said with a smile. “Brush it out and let it dry.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to find the Phoenix in the contours of my face or the confidence in my eyes. Because I couldn’t see it yet in my hair—not while it was still dark with water. My stomach burned with anticipation.
“Let’s go out in the sun,” suggested Breanna. “Dry it off faster. The market?”
I nodded eagerly. I needed something to take my mind off the slow pace of drying hair, off my new appearance, off my roiling turmoil about the future.
Maybe I’d find a snail roll.
Breanna and I eased our way into the bustling market. The energy of the crowd buzzed around me, crackling like fire. “Let’s go through the barn,” Breanna said. “I want to buy some soap from Gerta, and her table is usually inside.”
My fingers drifted up to brush against my still-damp hair, and I nodded. As we pushed our way down the crowded thoroughfare, I searched for the earth wizards I’d talked to last time I’d visited the market. But they were nowhere to be seen. No wares for sale today, perhaps.
Or maybe Jouko had gotten word of their murmurings and revoked their rent agreement. The thought made me feel sick. How would they feed their little ones then? Could they hope to find work—or at least land to rent—from one of the other powerful families in the area?
My thoughts were running away with me. Sellers often missed a day in the market. There was no reason for me to be alarmed.
The barn loomed in front of us, imposing with its massive cedarwood beams and carved doors. It had once belonged to a wealthy earth wizard with an affinity for racehorses. But since before I was born, it had been part of the Orivesi Terra Market, as shaded space for the vendors and customers.
We ducked inside, and I blinked against the sudden dimness. The air felt thick, the smells of sweat and cedar and fresh flowers blending together into an aroma that was equal parts intriguing and off-putting.
Merchants were set up in the old horse stalls, but they didn’t aggressively hawk their wares at us as those outside did. No, these spaces went to the more prominent, established merchants. Those with enough money to pay for the privilege of selling inside rather than out in the baking sun.
Breanna and I lingered, floating from stall to stall, looking at the fabric and fruit and flowers.
“Are you ready for your last show?” I asked as we lingered over a few bright red apples. Breanna’s final dance was tomorrow, and the thought curled in my stomach like sour sheep milk.
Breanna didn’t visibly react. “I think so,” she said, her voice steady. “I think it’d be harder if I weren’t handing the role off to my little sister.”
I pursed my lips. And our bratty cousin.
“Or if I had a husband I didn’t love,” she continued. “Darick has been so sweet. New wildflowers in the kitchen every day.” She gave a little laugh, and I couldn’t suppress a smile.
“I’m glad you didn’t marry Gainor,” I said.
Breanna snorted.
“Now that wasn’t very ladylike.” I smacked her on the arm. “You know, you’ve got to represent the Fintan as the Phoenix for another whole day. Can’t have you making strange noises at the market.”
She rolled her eyes and elbowed me in the side. “Impudent child. Maybe I’ll just dance through my whole pregnancy and not let you be Phoenix after all. Wait to retire until after Mama marries you off to Gainor.”
I groaned. “At least that one’s already taken.”
Breanna made a face. Gainor had married a woman three years older than me. His new wife was younger than his oldest daughter, and we’d all been properly horrified.
We browsed through the stalls a little longer, until we finally came to Gerta’s table full of soaps. Breanna picked up soap after soap, smelling each one, and asking Gerta questions about which scents were best for pregnancy nausea. When she made her selections, she handed Gerta a few coins, and we made our way to the next stall.
After we finished our stroll through the barn, we walked out of the humid dankness and into the clear, warm sunshine. I gave a little sigh of contentment.
“One more stop,” said Breanna.
I nodded, happy to let her do her shopping. I trailed behind her as she meandered down the central thoroughfare to a table covered in knickknacks. She walked straight to a silver-handled mirror and picked it up. “Your hair is dry,” she said.
My heart pounded in my chest. The moment was here. When I’d really see myself, for the first time, as the Phoenix. I bit my lip and stepped toward Breanna, nodding eagerly.
Breanna turned the mirror around, and I t
ook in my reflection. I couldn’t suppress the smile that suffused my face. My roots, dark like a burnt-out ember. The colors of the eternal flame woven through my hair. So different than my usual single shade of red. I looked older. Sophisticated. Successful.
I looked like the Phoenix.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The first strains of music wafted through the air. The musicians would play the theme through three times before the actual dance began.
This was the last time the troupe would perform this routine. The last time Breanna would dance with the troupe at all. A gaping chasm had opened up in my stomach, and it felt hard to draw breath.
Shayla and I weren’t performing tonight—not with our hair already dyed to signify that we were the Phoenixes. Two younger girls had been moved up from the understudy troupe to dance in our place.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Breanna as we left the dressing tent and began the walk to the stage.
Our last walk to the stage together.
She took a deep breath. “It’s been a beautiful two years,” she said. “I wouldn’t trade that time for anything. But I think the next two years will be beautiful too.”
Tears brimmed in my eyes, but I blinked them back. Breanna needed me to be strong for her tonight.
We approached the stage and stopped, looking out over the gathering audience. “Big crowd tonight,” I said.
“Yes.” A little smile turned up the corners of her lips. “It’s going to be a show worth remembering.”
“Your performances are always worth remembering.” I looped my arm through hers and leaned my head against her shoulder. “I’m glad I get to watch from the audience tonight.”
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Fintan fire,” I said.
“Fintan fire,” she replied, reaching out and squeezing my hands.
And then she turned, ran up the stairs, and vanished behind the curtain. I took a long, shuddering breath and turned to find a seat. Scanning the crowd, I found an empty chair next to Liam, who sat at the end of the row.
Fire Dancer Page 15
