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The bright lights of the big top shone down on Gwyn, the heat making her sweat even though the only physical thing she’d done so far was climb up the ladder to the trapeze ropes set high above the ring.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and spectators of all genders and ages – welcome to the greatest show in Velaris! “ The crowd roared with excitement as the ringmaster, Rhysand called out to them. Enticing people passing by the tent to enter as well. “Tonight, we celebrate Starfall with a magical display of daring tricks, dangerous stunts, and drastic measures!” Another wave of cheers erupted from the crowd as Rhys circled the ring, giving his ready to go signal to each of the performers.
Cassian and Nesta, the masters of swords, approached their starting positions. Cassian wore his usual dark pants and boots. His bare chest gleamed in the tent lights, his tattoos a dark contrast against his equally tanned skin. The straps of his sword holsters crisscrossed the expanse of bulging muscle as he flexed them for the swooning crowd – a favorite to those who liked the buff, rugged types.
Nesta wore a special dress for the occasion. The black corset top hugged every curve, her ample bosom nearly spilling out of the top. The multiple layers of her skirt frills bounced as she made her way to the center of the ring. Her hips swayed in an almost hypnotizing rhythm and she drew her own swords from their sheaths, turning to face Cassian who sauntered slowly forward. His cocky smile teasing her – half part of the act, half his true emotions shining through for the swordmistress.
“What do we have here folks? A battle of brawns against beauty?” The crowd cheered and cat-called Rhys’ cajoling.
Gwyn snickered up on her shadowed perch.
Cassian guffawed, pointed a sword at Nesta, and spoke, his voice magnified by the small mic by his chin, “Well that covers me – what are you my pretty opponent?”
Nesta shot Cassian a dark smirk and uttered one word, “Death.”
Then she lunged, her sword coming dangerously close to Cassian’s neck who dodged it with skilled ease. The crowd gasped and cheered as the two went back and forth. Stabbing. Swinging. Parrying. The sounds of their swords sharp and tangy in the air as their blades met.
Sinister music began to play as their first section died out with Cassian knocking Nesta to the ground. She fell into a backwards roll, purposefully laying out flat in the sand.
Seemingly defeated.
Cassian strutted around the ring, receiving cheers and boos, equally.
Then the lights dimmed, fog filled the tent and Nesta rose from her position, a golden mask now adorning her face and a single finger pointed at Cassian.
People in the crowd called out to him, trying to warn him as Nesta approached, twirling her sword that was now lit with a silvery flame.
Knowing the show, Gwyn watched in amusement as Cassian feigned not being able to understand the crowd’s warnings and that’s when Nesta struck. Her blade slicing down at Cassian’s back, releasing the velcroed latch on his holsters. Gwyn cheered, mostly for Nesta’s performance and second because the illusion she had stayed up all night with Nesta and Emerie to create, worked. Cassian’s sword holsters fell with a thunk to the ground.
Cassian was left defenseless as he scrambled back to avoid Nesta’s blow. A few more minutes of her chasing him in stunts across the ring ended with Cassian holding the blade of the sword, the fake fire flickering around his hands, the blood capsules popping and dripping down his arms.
In one swipe, Nesta pulled the sword from his grasp and swung down “beheading” poor Cassian. He fell beneath the thick layer of fog on the ground, disappearing into the trap door beneath him so when the fog was blown away, there was nothing left but a fake blood stain and his swords.
The crowd was going wild for the show. People threw roses and confetti, applauding Nesta’s win as she circled the crowd, holding the “bloodied” sword above her head, bowing and relishing in the praise.
She left the ring and Rhys suddenly appeared in a spotlight up on a pedestal.
“Even a rugged hero cannot defeat Death – but perhaps love can still overcome evil…”
The lights dimmed to an eerie red as uplighting revealed two figures, bent backwards and holding hoops with their feet. Another figure standing with a whip between them.
The circus choir of Priestesses began to sing their melancholy song as Gwyn settled against the post behind her, watching as Emerie, Mor, and Eris began their contortionist story of love.
Eris wore a red, black, and gold ensemble. His black pants and boots set off by a glittering red jacket with golden embroidery Emerie helped him stitch in. He wore a top hat upon his head of fiery, copper hair and white gloves to compliment the outfit.
Mor and Emerie wore matching golden leotards and masks that covered just their eyes. They received shouts and gasps as they bent their bodies in insane figures, keeping their hoops above the ground.
Until Emerie dropped hers…on purpose. She tumbled off her pedestal, and Eris, the “evil” ring leader, snapped his whip, the tip of it wrapping around the hoop and pulling it towards him. The Priestesses song crescendoed suddenly, only to go completely silent as the audience watched Eris stalk towards Emerie, an angered sneer on his face.
The silence was eerie as he walked slowly forward and knelt before Emerie, his finger curling beneath her chin to lift her face to his.
The music of the Priestesses began again, low and slow as Eris stood to his full height, lifted his whip above his head, his arm swinging to bring it down upon Emerie, but Mor’s foot shot out, the whip wrapping around her ankle instead and she cartwheeled, pulling the leather rope with her and out of Eris’ hand.
A choreographed hand-to-hand combat broke out with Emerie and Mor teaming up to entangle Eris in his own whip and shoving him to the ground, bound and gagged with one of his gloves.
Again the crowd cheered as Mor and Emerie bent backwards until their heads were between their legs and they were kissing.
The roar from the crowd was deafening and Gwyn nearly forgot she needed to get into position while the intense acts finished and they put on a cute puppy obstacle course show to brighten the mood a bit.
Gwyn stared out to the pedestals across from her, squinting into the shadows to find her partner.
It took her a moment, but Gwyn spotted Azriel on the landing across the ring and below her. He was already watching her. His black spandex pants and shirt hid him in the darkness of the curtains around him. His smoky black makeup made his hazel eyes gleam in the light even from this distance.
He nodded once and grinned back at her. She gave her “ready” nod right back and smoothed her palms against her silver spandex.
Gwyn was a great swordsman and contortionist. She could fill in for Nesta or Mor and Emerie any time they needed, but this? Flying high in the air and defying gravity…this is what Gwyn lived for. The freedom of it. The thrill.
“Please turn your attention to the skies above, to the tip top of the tent for our high flying act!”
The lights dimmed, a low, grey glow radiated around the ropes.
Gwyn took a deep breath and took her first step out.
Azriel mirrored her across the ropes. Step for step, motion for motion. They were in-sync together as they dipped and rolled and jumped until they were face to face.
They had a brief, split second to breathe in each other's scent, catch each other's gaze until they were dropping down off the rope. The audience gasped, thinking they were dropping to nothing, but the two of them caught the rope in their hands, twirling and spinning in unison.
Then they swung and Gwyn wrapped her legs around Azriel’s waist, undulating with him as he bowed backwards. She reached out her hands to grab the bar that hung just out of reach. And at the last second she grabbed it, releasing her hold on Azriel and swinging up.
She came face to face with him again, their death defying stunts pulling gasps and sounds of awe from the crowd. Even a few screams as the two, still face to face, wrapped their limbs around one another.
And jumped.
There were no ropes or bars that the audience could see.
The thrill of knowing the only thing between them and the ground was a nearly invisible net that would catch them, and shoot them back into the air. Grabbing onto the bar that descended above them, Gwyn and Azriel shared a look. One that said I've got you.
Then they let each other go, falling backwards. Plunging back down to the net, contorting their bodies in symmetrical positions, awing the crowd every time they grabbed the bar with ease, only to release their tether to safety and rely on bungee chords thinner than their fingers.
Then it was finally time for their finale.
Jumping up to grab the rope one last time, they teetered on it for a few passing heartbeats. Balancing and twirling around one another until Azriel began his ascent. Disappearing faster than a shadow. Leaving Gwyn alone on the bar.
She feigned not knowing where he went, searching for him in the crowd with a hand above her brow. She was giving Azriel his time to shine above her where she knew he was spinning and flipping on the harness that made him appear suspended in midair.
The next breath later she turned up on her toes and suddenly their lips were inches from one another as Azriel hung upside down.
He smiled.
She smiled back.
They leaned in and –
“Gwyn…”
The high rise tent began to pulse, the lights swimming together. Azriel's too close face blurring.
“Gwyn?”
She was so close now. She could feel his breath on her lips. Hear the roar of the crowd…
“Gwyn!”
Gwyn woke up with a start. Her eyes shooting open as Azriel's voice pulled her from her daring moves in the big tent.
He sat next to her on a couch. His muscle-solid form leaned over her with a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes. She could feel his hands on her. One rested on her hip, the other on her forehead.
“The tent,” Gwyn mumbled. “Performance…” she groaned and attempted to move, but her whole face pulsed with throbbing pain. “Fuck -” Why did everything sound so muffled?
“Take it easy. We just got in.”
“In?” No. They couldn't be in! They had a performance! “But…circus -”
Azriel’s face screwed up, his lips pressed together. Holding back what was surely a laugh. “What's this about a circus?” He asked, his voice shaking with the exertion to keep a neutral tone.
“We have to go…our performance.” Every sound she made, every movement, felt like she was exerting all her energy.
“Gwyn,” Azriel started, chuckling. “There is no performance. You had dental surgery. You're taking medicine –”
There was no time for this!
“The final…finale…we have to…” Gwyn groaned and something wet dribbled down her chin.
Her attempt to wipe it away was abysmal. Her hand moved much quicker than she expected and the slap she gave herself made the pain in her face pulse. She scrunched her eyes closed and whimpered.
Something soft wiped against her chin and when she peeled her eyes open, Azriel was pulling back a square of gauze, wet with saliva and blood.
Blood?!
“Oh nooo…” Tears pricked her eyes. This was an embarrassing disaster. She couldn't go on like this.
“It's okay,” Azriel said gently. “This is normal.”
Normal?!
“We just need to change the gauze -”
Gwyn cut him off again, because now he was just stalling. “The show…” more spit and blood trickled out, and again Azriel caught it before it could dribble onto her sweatshirt.
Despite his bloody job, Azriel laughed. The sound deep in his chest. “Okay, don't worry. We'll get to the show. Remind me what we're doing again?”
Gwyn gawked at him, an easy task seeing as she couldn't figure out how to close her mouth all the way anyway. How could he forget what they were doing?!
“Trapeze…flying high. Razzle…dazzle…” Damn all this talking made her jaw hurt.
With his gentle, scarred touch, Azriel took her chin between his two fingers. “I'm going to replace the gauze, then you can tell me all about the show. Open –”
Gwyn had no idea there was a wad of gauze wedged between her teeth until Azriel removed it. She promptly gagged, causing more dribbling.
The loss of pressure made her even more aware of the pain she was feeling, but that was immediately remedied as Azriel replaced it with a new, rolled up pad of gauze.
“Tell me about the show,” he asked while wiping away the drool. “You're a trapeze artist?”
She groaned, “We are…we were just about to kiss –”
Azriel fumbled with the gauze he was wrapping up to store back into the post-op kit the dentists had given him. It was all slowly coming back to her now. Dental surgery. Seeing the brightness of the light hanging above her, dentists and assistants in masks….
“Kiss?” Azriel asked, his voice an octave higher. His cheeks and tips of his ears tinged pink.
Gwyn tried to swallow to wet her dry mouth and throat. “Yeah – the end of our performance. You hang upside down and we kiss.”
“Gwyn –”
Gods she needed something to remedy this dryness. “Water?” She asked.
As if materializing out of nowhere, Azriel held a cup in his hands. He instructed her to sit up a bit, helping her by taking her elbow in his large, capable hands and positioning her so she rested against a mountain of pillows. Then he brought the cup to her lips.
“Drink slow. That’s it. You can’t use a straw or you’ll suck out the stitches.”
Gwyn swallowed the cool drink like it was the most satisfying thing on the planet. As if the water brought sudden memories and life back into her. She paused, glancing at Azriel. He was helping her…after her dental surgery.
Oh gods.
She had asked Azriel to drive her to and from the surgery, help her afterwards until she wasn’t drooling like an infant and could pick up her own water cup.
The circus…was not a circus, but a fever dream from the anesthesia and medicine and she just confessed that they kissed in her dream.
He was her friend. That’s it. Not a trapeze partner. Or a partner in any sense. A friend.
She paled as Azriel’s eyes met hers. He gave her an awkward smile. “So…what happens after the kiss?” He asked, the amusement in his voice loud and clear.
Maybe if she just kept it as a silly joke, one of those classic post surgery mishaps where she says ridiculous things, that he wouldn’t be totally terrified of her subconscious confession. Gwyn talked around her gauze, “We receive a standing ovation. Flowers are thrown at our feet.”
With the haze of medicine wearing off with each minute that ticked by, she became wholly aware of his closeness. The heat from his body settled next to her was a comfortable reminder that he was by her side, going above and beyond anything she could’ve asked of him.
He rested the cup of water on his knee, his other hand casually laid on her thigh, “I would imagine a death defying stunt like kissing mid air would cause people to jump to their feet.”
Gods why did he have to continue to remind her of her slip?!
“It was just a dream.”
“Right.”
“Right,” she confirmed. Just a dream. But…
But maybe this dream could be a reality. Not the trapeze part, unless Azriel was feeling daring. But the kiss. Maybe that could be true…
Gwyn pushed the thought away for now. Keeping it tucked in the back of her mind. “Thank you, Az, for helping me.”
He smiled and ducked his head. Hiding the deepening of his blush. “Any time.”
After packing away the gauze and making them a pureed butternut squash and gouda soup, Azriel sat next to her on the couch. He accepted her invitation to slide beneath the blanket with her, doing so without hesitation. Then they settled in and watched movies until Gwyn was nodding off.
But before she was dragged into another medication-induced dream, she felt the comfortable weight of a blanket pulled to cover her shoulders and a deep soft whisper from Azriel, “I’ll be here when you wake, ready to help you with whatever you need. Even a kiss…if that’s what you want.”
She was sure her lips tugged into a smile as his fingers brushed the hair from her face as she fell asleep. Dreams of big tops and kisses filling her head.