Please!
“Are you alright?” someone asks me, but all I can give is a strangled gasp.
The pain intensifies. Impossibly, it gets worse. My back arches as if pulled by invisible strings. I can feel my spine bending, feel each vertebra screaming in protest.
“Help!” a woman yells. “This man needs help.”
I moan, and it quickly turns into a scream.
I pitch forward off the bench. My hands find the wooden planks of the floor, my cane clattering away somewhere. My chest is still on fire, still burning, still trying to tear itself apart from the inside.
People are shouting around me.
There is alarm in their voices. Someone is touching me. It only serves to make the pain worse.
I’m dying. I must be. Nothing could hurt this much and not be death.
But it doesn’t end. It goes on and on, wave after wave of searing, bone-deep agony that shows no sign of stopping.
I clutch at my tunic, at my chest. I need the pain to stop.
“Look! What is that?” a woman shouts. Is she talking about me?
“No! Surely not,” a man shouts. “It can’t be.” There is shock laced with horror in his voice.
My chest burns. My blood burns. Every fiber of my being is on fire.
The performer is still singing. No! That’s not true… She’s…she’s screaming too.
3
Isla
I take a few deep breaths and then shove my nerves aside.
I can do this.
I pace up and down behind the canvas wall of the performance tent, listening to the roar of the crowd as the strongman finishes his act. The ground trembles as he drops his final weight. Cheers erupt and thunder rains as boots stomp against the wooden planks of the seating area.
I’m next.
I press a hand to my churning stomach. I’m not going to let my nerves get to me. This is not the Ice Court. I can do this.
Normally, I feel pretty when I’m all dressed up for a performance, but tonight, my costume feels too tight. The fabric is midnight blue, covered in tiny silver sequins. The fitted sleeves end at my elbows, and the skirt splits high on both sides to allow for movement. My legs are covered in matching blue tights.
“You ready?” Lyre appears beside me, her face flushed with excitement. She’s up after me.
“I am.”
“You'll be brilliant.” She squeezes my arm. “I’ve been watching you practice. You’re even better than you were before.”
Beforethe fall.Thatbefore? Before I lost my nerve.
I swallow thickly and force a smile.
Master Roland’s booming voice cuts through the noise as he starts his introduction.
I can’t seem to stop my racing heart, barely hearing a word he is saying.
