Spectacular!

Chapter One

There's a magic in the air when the circus comes to town—a hum that sets the world just slightly off-kilter. I've never seen the tent up close, never felt the electric charge of the crowd, but every year, I stand on the edge of the Lanlow River, straining to hear the lions' roars and the cheers of strangers.

Everything smells different when the circus is here, as if adventure has wrapped itself into every breeze. And this year, for the first time, I can feel it reaching out for me.

I catch sight of the red-and-white striped tent rising over the treetops like a beacon, promising marvels just out of reach. My heart aches to be there, beneath the grand canopy, feeling the rush of wind from acrobats soaring overhead and experiencing the sweet thrill of something new and exciting. But then, as always, the tether pulls me back.

"Kenna?" My mother's voice drifts through the open door, faint and worn thin by sickness.

I tear my eyes away from the tent in the distance, my chest tightening with the familiar weight of responsibility. Her coughing has worsened with the chill of winter creeping in, and though I hate to think it, I'm not sure she'll make it to spring.

"Yes, Mother?" I reply, my voice steady despite the worry gnawing at me.

"We're out of eggs," she wheezes, and the sound twists my heart.

I rake my hand through my hair, frustration prickling beneath my skin. "Send Finn," I say, though I know it's pointless.

"Kenna," she calls softly, a world of exhaustion in that single word. "Please."

My shoulders sag as I exhale a long breath. Finn is as useless as a broken plow, always curled up by the fire with his nose buried in a book while I tend to everything else. If I'd known I'd be responsible for two when Father left, I might have begged him to take Finn with him. But that wasn't how things turned out.

"I'll be back," I say, the words lacking conviction as I head out the door.

The path through the Autumnal Woods to Marty MacFellow's house is one I've walked more times than I can count. The ground crunches beneath my feet, the fiery leaves scattered like embers along the narrow trail. With the garden long dead and the river nearing its icy slumber, we survive on Marty's generosity—eggs and oats when his wife allows it, and sometimes a fish or two from the Lanlow before it freezes solid.

"Kenna!" Marty's gruff greeting pulls me from my thoughts as I near his home, his arm lifting in a wave. He pauses mid-swing, the ax in his hand gleaming in the afternoon light as he slices through a log.

I force a smile, though my throat feels tight. "Sorry to bother you again, Marty. We're out of eggs."

He waves me off with a friendly chuckle. "Never a bother, Miss Oberman. Always a pleasure to see you."

"I think your wife would beg to differ," I say, a hint of teasing in my tone. The last time I asked for eggs, Myrna made me chop wood for two hours before I could leave with the dozen. She doesn't take kindly to handouts, even when it's clear we're on the brink of needing them.

Marty shakes his head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That old codger wouldn't know her left foot from her right if it was spelled out in front of her."

I let out a small laugh, though it's more out of habit than humor. "You'd better hope she doesn't hear you."

He shrugs, his expression softening into something almost wistful. "When I married her, she was the most beautiful woman on the Continent. Didn't realize until later that the interior might not match the exterior."

I nod, unsure what to say to that, so I offer only a quiet, "Living with people is hard."

He gestures toward the henhouse, and I follow, grabbing a basket and lining it with hay. The strong scent of manure hits me as we work side by side, gathering the eggs that will be our dinner. The autumn light filters through the trees, casting everything in shades of gold and crimson, a beauty that's hard to ignore even with the dread of the winter easing in from all sides.