Had the pregnancy made her brainsick? “You’re going to have to explain this one.”
She looked over at me. “Why did you dance so well tonight?”
My mouth twisted. “Because . . . I worked hard?”
She shook her head. “More than that. You’re always a lovely dancer. You execute the steps with such strength. You carry yourself with grace. You add magical flourishes that will definitely get you in trouble someday.”
I chuckled.
“But tonight, it was like your feet barely touched the ground. Why?”
The answer came to me in a moment. “Because I was dancing for you.”
“Love.” Her eyes sparkled. “I always performed my best when I danced out of love. For Darick. Or you. Or Deirdre. Or anyone, really, as long as I was able to channel that love.”
My nose wrinkled. “I’m not sure feeling love for Deirdre will help me dance better.”
She elbowed me. “She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I muttered.
Breanna’s face softened. “Deirdre has . . . had a hard life. She doesn’t talk about it. Not really. But bits and pieces of her story have come out over the years. I have sympathy for her.”
“Even if she’s a terrifying troll?”
Breanna knocked me off the bench with her shoulder, and I collapsed to the ground, laughing.
Then Breanna gasped. “Kyla! Quick! Baby’s moving!”
I darted upward, my hand outstretched, and Breanna pressed it to her belly. Sure enough, beneath my fingers, I felt a rippling sensation.
A grin spread across my face, and I lifted my eyes to meet Breanna’s. Love.
Another wave pulsed in her belly, and after a moment, I dropped my hand. “I think it’s a girl,” I said. “And someday, her dancing will put yours and mine to shame.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning, I dragged myself to practice bleary-eyed and exhausted.
“Kyla Brannon!” Deirdre snapped her fingers at me as I stumbled into the tent. “What is the meaning of this? Are you ill? Drunk?” Her tone reached a frantic pitch.
I ran a hand through my hair. “Nay, ma’am. Just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Well.” Deidre’s voice softened, and she reached down to smooth her flowing skirt. “That’s understandable. The first time on a brand-new stage always feels like magic.”
I tilted my head, studying her. A soft smile played at the edges of her mouth and then vanished.
Huh. Deirdre had been the Phoenix years ago. I’d known that. But I’d always thought of her as our teacher, not as an actual dancer. Breanna’s words from the night before played in my mind. What kind of tragic story did Deirdre keep buried beneath that stern exterior?
It wouldn’t hurt me to be a bit nicer to Deirdre.
“Aye. It did feel like magic.” No need to tell Deirdre that I was being quite literal. “I . . . just had to walk around for a long time afterward.”
“Well, don’t make a habit of it,” she said. “We need you fresh at practice.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I glanced at the sea of dancers for help, but no one was paying me any attention.
Except for Shayla, who had her arms crossed and was glowering at me.
The shame threatened to curl around my heart again, and I couldn’t face it. So I grasped at something else. Anything else. Frustration tingled in my chest instead. That was better. More bearable.
Why was she always like this? I was well and truly over it. I’m sorry I was selfish when we were eleven. Bitterness laced my thoughts. But we were children. It was a long time ago. For blazes’ sake, can’t we move on?
Deirdre clapped. “Places, everyone!”
I darted to the wall to grab the baton for the first dance and hurried to my spot. No time to worry about Shayla today. I barely had the energy to dance.
Love, I thought, remembering the feeling of Breanna’s baby—my niece, I felt sure—moving inside her.
How could I dance with love? What did that even mean? I’d done it the night before, right after an emotional moment with Breanna. But how could I make a choice to summon love every time I danced?
It was all still confusing. But I would try. For Breanna. And for her baby.
And so, for the next several hours, I pointed my toes, leaped into the air, and tossed fire props high above my head, all while trying to summon the emotion of love. Some of my jumps and spins were better than others, but frustration grew in my chest with every move I executed. I was dancing well—dancing adequately, for the Phoenix—but I wasn’t finding the poetic fluidity that had come so naturally to me the evening before, on the stage.
And worse, Shayla was doing better than I was.
I stopped midway through a spin and crouched down, trying to dig deep into my consciousness, to figure out what I was missing. In the corner of my mind, a white door beckoned me, inviting me inside the all-white maze where I stored my fire magic. But I shook it away.
Not there. Not right now.
Instead, I guided myself toward the memories of last night’s dance.
“Kyla?” Deirdre’s voice intruded on my concentration, but I raised a hand and waved her away.
“Just a second,” I said, my voice distant. “I almost have it.”
Deirdre harrumphed, but I brushed it away. I’d deal with her wrath in a second. I just had to remember . . .
The cheers of the crowd. The energy tingling in the air. The gleam in Breanna’s eyes as she wished me well. The overpowering love I felt for her, for the child she carried inside her. The feel of the baby moving beneath my fingers. I let the feeling overtake me again, rushing through me in waves.
My eyes snapped open, and I stood up as straight as a cedar tree. “I’ve got it,” I said.
Deirdre arched one elegant eyebrow and then shook her head. “Whatever you say,” she muttered. Then she called out, “Everyone, let’s start the piece again. Places!”
When I turned to take my place, I ignored Shayla’s glare. I couldn’t focus on her. Not if I wanted to keep ahold of this love I’d found within myself. So I looked past her and took my first position. Deirdre clapped her hands and called, “Five, six, seven, eight.”
Pirouette. Step right. Glide. Baton up.
I threw the wand into a perfect arc. It sliced through the air, and I caught it just as I moved into my first jump.
For Breanna. And her baby.
With every step, I channeled the love I felt for my sister and for my niece. I thought again of the life I wanted for the baby, how I hoped she would have choices I’d never been given. How desperately I wanted her future to be beautiful.
In the back of my mind, an insistent thought buzzed—that she wouldn’t have any more options than I did if no one forced the council to give her those options—but I set it aside to consider later. For now, I needed to dance.
And dance I did. I flew through the steps, executing each one to perfection, exuding grace and strength and vulnerability, even while dancing across from Shayla. The buzz swelled to a crescendo in my mind. Breanna was right. Love, somehow, gave me wings.
I hit the last pose with closed eyes, and the room went silent. When I dared open them, Deirdre was staring at me.
She sniffed. “Well, Miss Brannon, your methods of preparation are rather unorthodox, but I’m quite pleased with the results. That was the best you’ve ever danced. Perhaps excepting last night.”
Someone started clapping behind me, and when I turned around, I realized it was Aislinn. She was grinning at me, and I shook my head to try to get her to stop. But one by one, the other dancers joined in, until everyone was applauding.
Well, everyone except Shayla. She was standing there with her lips quirked to the side and a withering glare on her face. Then she hurried over to Deirdre and whispered something in her ear. Deidre nodded at her, and Shayla disappeared t
hrough the tent flap.
Good riddance.
The applause died down, and Aislinn said, “What happened, Kyla? I’ve never seen you dance like that. It was like you were . . . floating or something.”
“I’ve never seen anyone dance like that,” murmured Ciara.
I opened my mouth and then closed it again. The tent fabric rustled in the breeze. How could I explain to them what had happened? It had been such a sacred, intimate moment, and I couldn’t find words that wouldn’t make it sound . . . silly. Laughable.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I said. How could I hold those moments up for mockery? I vowed to tell them. Someday. When I had better words to explain it, when they wouldn’t dismiss what I was saying as stargazing rubbish. “I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out.”
But Deirdre was wading into the crowd of dancers, waving her arms to recapture everyone’s attention. “Stop heaping praise on Kyla, or it’ll go to her head,” she snapped. “Kyla has worked hard for this, and her reward is that she dances beautifully. Put in the work, and you’ll dance beautifully too.”
Aislinn’s eyes narrowed, and I knew she didn’t believe Deirdre’s explanation. Everyone in this troupe worked hard. Some of them had worked just as hard as me—or harder. Despite the skeptical look Aislinn was giving me, I knew I couldn’t contradict Deirdre. At least not publicly.
She might tolerate my long, eccentric, crouched pause, but she’d have my head for defiance. And Shayla would be only too happy to step over my dead body to claim the entire role as her own.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Despite the hours of dancing, I didn’t feel tired when practice ended. I felt exhilarated. I changed into my loose-fitting clothes and then fairly flew down to the river, where Nolan was waiting for me under our favorite willow tree.
“Hey.” A grin tugged at his lips when he saw my smile. “Good day?”
“The best,” I said. Then my forehead crinkled. “I . . . I’ve been thinking a lot about Breanna’s baby.”
He tilted his head. “Oh?”
A flush suffused my face. He hadn’t thought I meant I was thinking a lot about babies, generally, had he? I plunged ahead, desperate to rid the situation of any tinge of awkwardness. “I want her to have options. I mean, I know that it might be a boy, but . . . I don’t think she is.” Tears brimmed in my eyes. “I think I’m going to have a little niece, Nolan.”
He reached out, grabbed my hand, and pulled me down to sit beside him on the boulder. “That will be wonderful,” he said softly.
You don’t understand. “I don’t want her to grow up like I did,” I muttered, swiping at my tears. “I don’t want her to grow up feeling like she has to be a dancer in order to distinguish herself. Becoming the Phoenix was always . . . my only option at ambition, you know? I mean, I love dancing. I really do. But what if it wasn’t really what I wanted most all along?”
He threaded his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. “I know, Kyla. I know.”
I sucked in a deep breath, letting the music of birdsong, the dance of the green light streaming through the treetops, and the soft smell of honeysuckle in the air steady my nerves and slow my thoughts. “But why should only one girl at a time get to succeed?” I asked. “Why should it be such an unusual circumstance for Shayla and I both to be crowned? Why must all the others be disappointed, even if they’re smart and skilled and talented and hardworking?”
“It’s not a fair system. That’s part of why you want to be a mage.” With his free hand, he picked at a patch of moss spreading across the rock.
Something sour and choking rose up in my throat, and I shook my head. “I do want to be a mage. It’s not fair that I can’t be. But . . . it can’t just be about me.”
“Hmm?”
I sat up straighter and held his gaze, hoping that the intensity burning in my core shone clearly in my eyes. “We have to break the system,” I said. “The council can’t just make an exception for me. We have to change the clan so that every girl who comes after me has a world full of options.”
Nolan chuckled. “No one ever accused you of not being ambitious enough.”
A dragonfly shot past me in pursuit of a smaller bug, and I flinched away from it on instinct. But it disappeared into the trees. It was no doubt far more interested in acquiring its dinner than it was in scorching me with a tiny spark of fire shot from its mouth.
Even the Fintan didn’t like dragonflies.
I turned back to Nolan and held my chin high. “Do you think I can’t do it?”
He ran a hand through his blond hair. “I think you’re young and female in a society that values old men. I’m not saying you can’t do it; I’m just saying it’s going to be hard to get them to listen to you.”
I chewed my lip. “They value men, yes, but young men are often thane. The youngest thane in history was fourteen.”
He waved his hand. “I know the story. And yes, the thane is sometimes young, but most of the council is a spry eighty-two years of age.”
I tried to suppress a laugh, but it came out as a snort. “They’re not that old.”
I thought of Desmond and Rory, who had been on the council since Mama was a girl—and then added, “Well, most of them.”
“Like I was saying.” He stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants. “They’re not likely to be enthusiastic about change. I mean, think of all the stories—it’s young people who lead the charge to make change happen.”
I leaped to my feet. “Don’t you see?” I began to pace back and forth across the clearing. “That’s what I’ve been saying. We have to make it happen.”
He crossed his arms. “You keep saying we, but I’m not even Fintan.”
I stopped beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You will be,” I said. “Because that’s one of the changes we have to see through.”
A sigh wracked his chest, and then he said, “Okay. Just tell me when you have a plan.”
Frustration coursed through my body—because I still didn’t know how we were going to do any of this. “You could challenge for thaneship at the torch ceremony,” I said weakly.
Nolan laughed aloud. “They’d arrest me.”
“I know, I know,” I grumbled. “And only mages can challenge, so they’d declare you disqualified even if you beat my uncle in mage combat.”
“You could challenge,” he said. “If you’ve convinced them to make you a mage by then.”
This time I laughed at Nolan. “That would go over even better, wouldn’t it?”
His eyes sparkled. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to watch you spar with your uncle.”
“Pretty sure they’d arrest me.”
“Probably.”
“Arrest you for what?” asked a familiar too-sweet voice.
Blazes. I turned toward the voice and took in Shayla. Her Phoenix hair was tied back with a cord, and she tossed it over her shoulder. The expression on her face was entirely too self-satisfied for my comfort.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my frustration under control.
“Getting what I want,” she said breezily.
“To fall and trip in the mud?” I retorted.
She rolled her eyes. “Simple girl. No wonder you couldn’t win outright, even after you cheated in the audition.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what—”
The thane and two of the younger council members stepped into the glade behind Shayla. I stiffened. What had Shayla told them?
Nolan shuffled back a step.
“Well,” said the thane. “Shayla was right on one count. Kyla, would you care to tell me what my niece is doing consorting with the son of a defector?”
“He’s a friend,” I said, my voice tight.
“Shayla claims he’s been teaching you magecraft. That you used it to get ahead at the audition. But that can’t be true, can it?” His eyes narrowed on me.
I swallowed. Shayla was forcing my hand. If I lied now, t
he thane might drop the matter. But then I’d never be able to step forward and ask them to train me.
“I didn’t cheat,” I said firmly.
Out of the corner of my eye, Nolan scuffed his foot on the ground.
“A deft evasion of the question.” The thane lifted his chin, as if daring me to try again. “Choose your words carefully, Kyla. Shayla brought me a note that she says you wrote to this boy.” He pulled a small piece of parchment out of his pocket and held it out to me.
With wooden movements, I reached to take it. It was in my handwriting. I glanced at the note. A handful of phrases leaped out at me. Meet me tomorrow . . . spend our time practicing . . . lost in the magic.
This was a letter I’d written to Nolan, that I’d planned to hide in the oak in case he wasn’t there to meet me. I’d put it in my pocket . . . a few days before Aislinn saw Shayla rummaging through my things.
My eyes burned as I looked up at Shayla. If I’d betrayed her five years ago, this betrayal was far worse. The little snake had held onto the letter, waiting for this moment to destroy me.
There was no denying the note. This was it, then. We had to plead our case even though we weren’t ready, even though we had no plan.
Maybe this is what we should have done all along.
For strength, I reached into the pouch tied around my waist and ran my fingers over the two stones inside it: the coal that Nolan had given me, and the marble that had been a gift from the magic itself.
Swallowing, I glanced at Nolan. He returned my gaze and gave a small nod.
Turning back to the thane, I held my head high and matched his fierce expression. “I’d like to request an audience with the council.”
Chapter Thirty
Nolan and I stood in the council tent. Before us, in a semicircle, sat the twelve members of the Fintan High Council.
Old Rory peered at me quizzically. His voluminous eyebrows reminded me of a pair of squirrels. To his left, Cormac Flynn—Liam’s papa—looked more sympathetic. Perhaps there was some hope. On the far end, Gainor Byrne just seemed bored, like he wanted to be home with his much-younger wife.
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