1
Isla
No one will find out.
I won’t fall again.
I can do this.
I tell myself this over and over as I throw a blanket over my thin mattress. I really need to shake these wayward thoughts from my mind.
I love being a performer.
The conditions aren’t always ideal, but I feel closest to being me when I’m up there on my silks. Having to hide who I really am is taking its toll on me. My heart beats faster in my chest just thinking about what tomorrow will bring.
I need to get over it already. It is what it is.
I sit on my bed for a moment, taking in a deep breath. My tent smells of mildew and old smoke, but it’s home. At least I have a roof. It’s noisy outside; there’s battering, hammers pounding stakes, and the occasional curse. The troupe is getting ready for our first performance at the Shadow Court. We arrived a little earlier. As much as I love feeling the sun on my back,being in any of the courts makes my skin crawl. Particularly this one.
The shadowfae are dangerous. Their magic is dark, slippery, and wholly unpredictable… I should know. They seem to have eyes in the back of their heads and a nose for sniffing out magic. They’re always assessing, always looking for both weakness and power.
I have both, but no one can ever know.
I put a hand to my ear, feeling the rounded edge. They should have points. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m not a pure-blooded human. I’m a half-breed, and unlike many others of my kind, I’m one of the few who can wield magic, and I do…all the time.
Problem is, it could get me into real trouble if anyone ever found out.
I use it to enhance my performance, to make the almost impossible look effortless. Just enough to keep me valuable to the troupe. More than enough to get me jailed or killed if anyone ever found out.
I press a hand to my stomach, trying to quell the nausea rolling there. If the fae discover what I can do, I’ll be forced to stay at their court. They’ll drain me week after week like every other magical creature in the realm. Drained until I’m a useless husk.
No. I can’t let that happen, and I won’t.
If I were clever, I would never use magic again. I would bury it in the deepest recesses of my soul and never touch it. But I need it to make a living, and I love what I do. If only it didn’t come with so many risks attached.
My stomach growls, and it reminds me that I haven’t eaten since this morning. The exhaustion from the journey is making me lightheaded. The communal cook fires should be going by now.
I push through the tent flap.
Outside, as expected, the camp is a hive of activity. To my left, a group of strongmen is wrestling to erect the main center pole in the performance tent, their muscles bulging. The canvas billows and snaps in the wind. One of them, Garrick, catches my eye and nods. I nod back. Friendly but not overly so. That’s the balance I’ve learned to strike over the past two summers with the troupe.
Don’t get too close. Don’t let anyone in, or they might find out about my secret.
I follow the smell of cooking meat as the sun sinks lower in the sky. It will be dark soon, and the stars will come out. How I long to see them shining in all of their glory. The endless weeks of travel between courts take a toll on even the most hardened traveler. Out there, the sky goes from muted gray to a muted black, with no sign of the sun, moon, or stars. It’s all just rain, cold, mud, and stench for weeks at a time.
I still prefer it to the fear that churns in my belly every time I’m at a court.
As I round one of the supply wagons, I nearly collide with Lyre. She’s carrying a bucket of water, and her dark hair is pulled back in a tight braid. Her horses whinny softly behind her from the makeshift corral.
“Hi, Isla.” She grins at me, her whole face lighting up. “Have you finished setting up?”
“Yes.” I manage a small smile. “Your beauties look well.” I glance over her shoulder.
“They’re thrilled to be here.” She looks back at her horses, her expression softening. “The grazing is wonderful, but they’re restless for some reason.” As if on cue, one of her ponies lifts his head, his nostrils flaring. Then he whinnies and bolts to the other side of the corral.
“See what I mean? They’re twitchy.” She giggles. “I hope they settle by tomorrow’s show.”
I know exactly how her ponies feel, but I don’t say so. Instead, I just nod. “I’m going to get some supper. Do you want to join me?”
