Chapter 2
T he color of the festival of Balefire was red, but Soren Tomoleo was dressed all in black. His long jacket was an inverted design of the muses, solid black embroidered with red branches, and his shirt was open enough to reveal a hint of his chest and a ruby amulet on a chain. He was tall, but the way he walked – swaggered , really – somehow made him seem even taller. His hair was raven black and pushed back so it curled at the nape of his neck, and his eyes were dark but vibrant.
As soon as he stepped into the room, all of the muses turned to look at him. It was the compulsion of his position since he was our enchanter, but I would've turned anyway. He was handsome and captivating, with fluid movements and a smile that made my heart stop in my chest when he cast it my way.
"Good evening, my amazing muses," Soren announced as he approached, and we made a semicircle around him. You are all stunning, not that there was ever any concern." His eyes were surveying the lot of us as he spoke, but I swear, when his tongue landed on stunning , his gaze held mine for a moment.
“You aren’t too bad yourself,” Wrenley said in xer deadpan way.
Soren smirked. "Your half-assed sycophancy is both needless and appreciated, Wrenley, as always." Then, to the rest of us, "Can I assume you are all limber enough for a final rehearsal?"
“Is this necessary?” one of the other muses asked. “In the past, we haven’t done a dress rehearsal on the morning of the conduction.”
“Yes, well, I was not the enchanter in the past. Perhaps their standards weren’t as high as mine,” Soren countered. “Now, shall we get to our places and begin from the top?”
"Yes, sir," Briar chirped in unison with other muses, but I kept my mouth shut and hurried to my position.
The twelve of us made two circles—six on the inner ring close together and six on the outer ring a bit further apart. I was on the inner circle, next to Wrenley, and I started with my arms above my head and my hands subtly splayed in a gesture known as "the rosebud."
Soren stood beyond the outer edge, and we waited, frozen in silence, until our cue. A moment later, he began to sing in a rich baritone that never failed to give me goosebumps on my arms. He moved his hands with a flourish, like someone conducting an orchestra, and it wasn't instruments he commanded but magik.
Music played out from the torches on the columns, and it was the song of the flames—violins in vibrant ecstasy, cellos in deep thrumming, lyres in delicate excitement.
As soon as the music began, we started to move. It was soft and fluid, like a subtle ballet, but none of us stepped out of our ring. We stayed in our place, twirling and dancing, with our hands held above our heads. Sparkling lights traveled out from our fingertips, creating glimmering images in the air above us.
Our magik was the thread that held it all together, creating a beautiful symphony of music, motion, and light.
Our conduction at the Balefire was paramount to the Kingdom of Calida. Conduction was the act of magik being guided between the realms—the ether where it came from and the land where we lived. The magik we put back into the air would become the magik our kingdom received in the future.
Tomorrow, the crops will be planted after the Balefire, and all seeds will be sown for the summer. This was the kingdom's most important season, and we needed as much magik returned to us as possible.
Muses were born with the magik pumping through our veins, and the enchanters were a subset of warlocks specifically trained to help us harness and release our magik into the world. Soren's song was more than music. It was a transcendent incantation that brought our power to the surface. The muses were the flame, and the enchanters were the match.
Together, what we did was far more than entertainment, although the performances were beautiful and compelling. If we faltered, the fields could be destitute and the harvests abysmal. But if we did well, the kingdom, family, and friends would thrive.
As we danced, Soren stalked around us, studying us for any mistake. My eyes were meant to be cast toward the heavens, but I would steal glances at him whenever I had the chance. His face was unreadable, and the song had an instrumental interlude, so he was no longer singing.
But he had yet to call out an error. We all moved together, perfectly in sync. Our fingertips cast dazzling lights in grand arcs about the room, and even in the midst of it, it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
“Isadore Dellamousa!” Soren yelled suddenly, and I stumbled on my feet for the first time.
Everyone around me froze, unsure what to do when I missed my steps. My skin was aflame with embarrassment when I looked over at Soren.
“Isadore, what in all the Kingdoms of Wespen are you doing?” He sounded gentler now, almost exasperated, and he walked between muses on the outer ring, stepping right up to me.
“I-I’m… performing?”
A bemused smile touched his lips, and he arched his eyebrows. “Are you or aren’t you? Are you so unsure of yourself that you don’t even know what you’re doing at this very moment?”
"No." I shook my head. "No, I know." I pulled my shoulders back and lifted my chin higher. "I am performing. I don't think I'd missed a step until you called my name."
“Your steps are fine,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Your light is much too dim.”
I glanced down at my hands. The lights had stopped emanating from my fingertips when I stumbled, but I could still see the magik glimmering beneath my pale skin.
“Are you holding yourself back? Is it nerves?” Soren asked. “I have seen you in the past rehearsals, Isadore. I know how bright your light can be, so don’t pretend otherwise.”
“I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. “I was focused on my steps.”
"Well, you're doing it wrong then," he said bluntly. "The steps are ancillary, something fun to give the people to look at. But the dance is utterly irrelevant. It is the magik that you put out that is all that counts. If you can only focus on one thing, focus on that."
“I will try,” I said.
“You will do it ,” he instructed, and his dark eyes were somehow intimidating and heartening all at once. Then, louder, because he was talking to everyone else even though he kept his eyes on me, “Everyone, when the music begins, keep your feet still. Move only your hands. Command only your magik. Share your brightest light.”
The music began, and he didn't move. He stood right before me, unwavering, and I had never felt so nervous to conduct magik in my entire life.
I took a deep breath, lifted my arms over my head, and turned my eyes toward the sky. I began with "the rosebud," manipulating the lights from my fingertips so they resembled flower buds on a thorny branch.
“Brighter,” Soren demanded.
I summoned the magik deep within me as I pulled the lights into a blossoming rose, the petals growing more vibrant as I went.
“ Brighter ,” he repeated, louder this time.
I grimaced because I didn’t know how I could give anymore.
"You pull it from deep within you," he said as if reading my mind, and he stepped forward and placed his hand on my stomach. The unexpected touch almost startled me out of what I was doing, but I never faltered.
His palm was flat, pressed against the bodice of my dress, and the fabric was thin enough that I could feel the heat from his skin. He'd been speaking loud so that anyone could hear, but now he spoke low, barely above a whisper when he commanded, "Draw from here, Isadore. Let your light shine."
I closed my eyes because I didn’t need the heavens. I didn’t need anything more than I already had, and focusing on the warmth of his hand, I summoned all the power I had inside me.
“ Yes !” Soren shouted exuberantly, and he removed his hand.
When I opened my eyes again, the lights I painted in the air above me were almost blinding. My roses had never shone brighter, blossoming around us, creating something beautiful and bursting with light.
“There it is!” Soren exclaimed. “All of you do that in the Court tonight. If you can remember the steps on top of this, it will be the greatest show Calida has ever seen.”