Why had she even bothered? Why had she even come here? She’d just wasted more time. She shrugged him off and lost her balance as she climbed the first step. Her heart slammed against her rib cage as she teetered backward.
She caught herself, walked more slowly, taking the steps one at a time, cheeks burning. She should have shaved Finley’s whole head, should have knocked him out or tied him up somehow. Tears stung her eyes. She only ever cried when she was frustrated or furious. So furious she wanted to break something. Someone.
She pressed through the crowded streets, elbowing past people partying, people too smart or too scared to set foot inside the revel. The scent of whiskey blended with the scents of smoke and sweat. Column-lined arcades of shops enclosed St. Casimir’s Square on all sides but one. The last opened straight onto the sea.
Lina paused in an archway beside a column in front of the closed ice-creamery. Its windows were shivering with the wail of pipes and strings. Fireworks crowned the scene before her, but she could barely see anything past the haze of heat from the bonfires. Shapes and shadows dancing. The great stone pillar in the center shot up to pierce the night.
Drums beat thunder into the ground, and the sound of it pulled, calling to that sinuous little voice inside of her, the one that urged her to jump when she stood at the top of a flight of stairs, the one that told her to leap from the deck of her mothers’ ship even though she couldn’t swim. Want filled her. She wanted badly to step into the square in spite of the danger. She wanted to dance, to leap and spin and snap her fingers.
She wanted to catch a glimpse of the wicked Witch Queen as she wove in and out of the revelers in disguise, changing faces, appearing one second as the person you loved, transforming next into the person the boy beside you loved, tricking you into taking her hand, tricking you into kissing her.
The dull ache in her ankle enabled her to shake free of the magic’s pull. Her whole body trembled, and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or desire. A bead of sweat dripped from her temple. Truth be told, she wasn’t supposed to be here tonight either. She was supposed to be resting, supposed to be celebrating St. Walpurga’s Eve with the rest of the family at Ma’s brother’s house, where she and Finley should be now. Would anyone come looking for them? She’d caught snatches of the usual clamor as she sailed past the house: the familiar hiss of hot oil, the clatter of pots and pans drowning beneath the voices of five of her six aunts. Gossip and laughter so loud you could hear it halfway down the street.
Lina’s nails dug crescents into her palms. She even would have stayed there with Finley like she’d told him. For a little while, at least. She would’ve snuck out on her own later on, just for a bit. While everyone was stuffing themselves silly with butter crab, while Nina and Ivy played piano or Finley played violin or cousin number fifteen played cello. All the aunties busy throwing smug looks back and forth like knives, each confident she had the most talented child, everyone too distracted to notice she was missing.
Her brother always had to make everything about him, even when he was supposedly doing something for her.
Lina started forward. A rough hand caught her wrist. Thomas kept a wide space between himself and the edge of the square, the border of the revel. His eyes danced with reflected flames, and she saw fear and hesitation lurking in their depths. Annoyance spiked.
“It’s not like they’ll pick you twice.” Even witches respected dead queens’ wishes. Lina shook her arm free and stepped backward through the arch. “And it’s not like she’ll pick me.”
3
Lina
The world didn’t change so much as it sharpened.
Edges cut like knives, colors flashed like the glimmer off a blade. Lina could see the revelers clearly now, spinning in wild circles. Linked hands. Linked elbows. Driven by the relentless pounding of drums. The shriek and wail of pipe and violin. Round and round the dancers went, clockwise and counterclockwise, forward and back. People she knew and people she didn’t. Blurred silhouettes. Black-clad sirens with sharks’ smiles and jingling bangles of amber and shells. Bare-chested figures with eyes as cold as sea glass.
Some said the witches were dreams and nightmares escaped from mortal minds. Children born after sundown. They still looked human, though, or chose to, and their black attire blended with the shadows, making it seem as if they blinked in and out of the night itself.
Lina’s heart thrummed, pulse quickening at the thought of being surrounded by so much magic. The music struck a chord deep within her bones. She moved forward, humming unconsciously beneath her breath, searching the crowd for a familiar black cowlick and eyes as gray as the winter sea. Those not dancing were gathered around the bonfires, trying to charm the witches with their talents. Just because magic was given out for free tonight didn’t mean it was given out for nothing; you had to impress a witch. Others still were trying to catch orange sparks crackling off the smoldering wood. A burn from one of the thirteen bonfires brought luck to the wearer for the rest of the year.
One of the witches, a brown-skinned girl with silver hoops swinging from her ears, caught a spark and, waving it once like a sparkler, tucked it behind Lina’s ear.
Blushing, Lina reached up to touch it, marvelling at the soft warmth that met her fingers. The witch winked, and a flustered Lina backed up, shoulders knocking into the firm chest behind her. She spun, apologizing.
Thomas stared down at her, expression so intent that guilt immediately pricked her conscience. She didn’t know what dark memories she was asking him to relive by being here. Although technically she hadn’t asked him to be here—he’d come after her. Followed her.
A strange tightness squeezed Lina’s chest. Her anger from earlier vanished. When his arms swept around her, she didn’t protest, just let him draw her close. So close their chests brushed. He led her into the ebb and flow of dancers, hands leaving little spots of heat at the small of her back, on her arm, her hip.
Lina’s throat ran dry. “I thought…”
I thought you didn’t care.
“I can’t lose him.” It came out as a whisper. It sounded like an apology.
Thomas’s eyes were so dark they looked almost black. He pulled her even closer, and when they moved together it was as if they’d danced these steps a hundred thousand times before. His body responded to her slightest movement. His gaze never once left hers. She could feel his hip bones as they turned together through the tide of bodies. Heated words tickled the tip of her ear. Lina couldn’t breathe.
“You’ll have to hold on to him tightly, then.” His smile was knife-sharp as he pulled back. Sudden cold rushed between them as he let go.
Lina’s mouth opened, but he was already spinning away, taking another boy’s arm.
Someone grabbed her wrist. Lina jumped. It was Thomas. “Don’t! Thomas?” She twisted, glancing one way and then the other, from the sea of dancers Thomas had melted into to the Thomas clasping her wrist. Her heart stuttered. Who…