Born with a damaged heart, Leanna Weston has lived a sheltered life with little chance at adventure. When she hears that Finvarra's Circus is coming to her small town, she sneaks off to witness the magic first hand, sure that this is her only chan...
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Hours later, somewhere between a setting moon and a looming sun, Leanna burrowed into Kioyo's cloak, her sights and steps focused on the Big Top. The gentle giant stood tall, the bluish gray of the coming day softening its edges, making it appear more like a dream.
A dream. Leanna stifled a yawn. She had slept a good while, or at least she thought so. Though tear induced—as her sleep often was—this slumber had been different. The circus' timelessness was affecting her, for it felt like she'd slept for days straight when in reality no more than few hours had passed, if that many at all.
Unaffected, however, were the nightmares—the visions that began guised simply as sounds in the dark. First, the odd squeaks and moans of hinges in need of oil slipped into her dreams, accompanied by the sharp little taps and rasps of a faceless monster whose legs scuttered about in a hurry. Then came the voices, feminine and urgent... scared. Their cries became curdling screams that washed images of blood over the darkness of Leanna's dreams. So vivid, she could taste the metallic warmth. When the voices subsided, the eyes appeared—vacant eyes that though a different shade each time, always stared into the same nothingness of death. With the taps and rasps, the invisible monster then faded from Leanna's dreams, leaving nothing but despair in its wake.
But whereas she often grieved for these ghosts of her nightmares, that morning when Leanna woke, she forced all thoughts of blood and death, of Finvarra and illicit kisses from her mind. She doused her worries with the melody of Ellie's dance. The gentle tune on her lips, Leanna envisioned a dancing Kioyo in the various shades of night within her tent, swaying between the deep blacks of the shadows and the hazy blue light coming from the skylight above. In this private haunt, under the stars watchful eyes, Leanna followed Kioyo's ghost, mirroring every extension, every lift and twirl until finding some semblance of grace and peace in her movements.
Pleased with her progress, she now relished in the mildness of morning that draped her skin with cool dew. Against all that had happened the previous night with Finvarra, against the horrible dreams, Leanna closed her eyes and let this calmness infuse her, gentle as changing seasons.
Opening her eyes, she stopped abruptly. A fork in the road. The right path led past Finvarra's tent, and straight to the Big Top. The left travelled beyond the cookhouse and traversed the performer's tents—a much longer way.
Leanna gazed right, at Tomas standing before Finvarra's door. And behind him, an illuminated tent. Something within Leanna dimmed, echoing a sudden loneliness. It was silly, Leanna knew this, but in the mere days they'd known one another, she liked to imagine she'd found in Finvarra a mirror of her own loneliness, someone who understood what it was to live with a cursed heart.
Shaking her head, Leanna let out a smoky breath and retrieved her mother's brooch from her pocket. She would have worn it, but in no way did she wish to upset Kioyo by adorning his cloak. She gazed down to the glass eyes on the small crab, twinkling like stars in her palm. Though a strange looking thing, each quiet tick within the metal crustacean made her feel a little less alone. In her current state, a little went a long way.
