Incarnate (16 page)

“That wasn’t my question.” His voice cracked. “Neither of those was ever a question. Dear Janan, you’re the most defensive person I’ve ever met.”

My lip was going to have permanent indentions where I bit it so much. I bit the top one instead this time.

“Be careful on your way to the market field.” Footsteps sounded toward the stairs.

“Sam.” I felt like I was choking. Or drowning. Maybe some of both. He stopped walking, at any rate. “You asked how I’d know who you were.”

Silence.

“I’ll always know.”

A minute later, the front door closed and I was alone in the washroom, only the reflection of a stranger in my mirror. When I thought he’d had enough time to get to South Avenue, I checked that my mask and knife were secure, then slipped sideways through doorways because my wings wouldn’t let me pass through head-on.

As I left the house and darkness closed in, I tried to imagine myself having fun tonight. I tried to imagine myself smiling and laughing and maybe ending up in someone’s arms by the last dance, like the magic of the masquerade was real and could help you find the match to your soul.

I couldn’t imagine myself doing any of that, but that was okay.

Tonight, I wasn’t Ana.

COOL AIR SLITHERED around my dress, ruffling the edges around my calves. The breeze pushed on my wings, so every step took a smidge more force than usual. It was unsettling, but by the time I reached the market field, I’d mostly compensated. If only I’d had the foresight to work that issue into dance practice.

The market field was gloriously lit with silver-tinged lights from the Councilhouse, and poles scattered over the field. The temple glowed; I carefully ignored that, as well as the accompanying twist in my gut.

People in costume drifted in as evening encroached. Hawks, bears, pronghorns. Someone had dressed as a troll — such bad taste — while an osprey flirted with everyone.

The market field filled with bright fish and ferrets. A sparrow chased a lizard, and they embraced. Hundreds of people swarmed across the field like herds of gemstones.

I glanced toward the landing atop the Councilhouse steps, where Tera and Ash would be dedicated later. Only a robin and house cat prowled there now, fussing with controls to something.

The robin stepped up to a microphone and cleared his throat. Meuric’s voice carried from the speakers fastened to the light poles. “Tonight, we celebrate the rededication of two souls.”

Costumed guests turned as one entity to face him. I was trapped in the back and couldn’t see around most of the crowd; I wondered what people on the other side of the temple did, where they were looking. The party stretched all across the market field.

“Every generation, our souls are reborn into new and unfamiliar bodies, as are the souls of those we love. Rarely does romantic love transcend incarnations. Rarely. Some souls, however, were created as matching pairs. Those Janan-blessed partnerships have continued over centuries. Millennia. Every generation, these souls are drawn together, regardless of their physical forms. Their love is pure and true.

“Tonight’s festivities celebrate the commitment between Tera and Ash. As they search for each other in this sea of unfamiliar faces, let us all remember that Janan created us with a purpose: to value one another, and to love.”

He stepped away as the opening chords of a pavane came through the speakers, and lights flooded the market field with a dreamy glow. Interesting that Meuric didn’t make his announcement before he changed clothes. It lent credit to my theory that I was the only one who cared about being anonymous tonight.

At least I knew how Meuric was dressed, so I’d be able to avoid him.

With the music playing, people began taking partners to dance. This pavane wasn’t one of Sam’s compositions, but it was pretty, different from what I was used to listening to. A chorus of strings and woodwinds sang across the evening.

I kept to the edges of the mass of dancers, though bodies still bumped against my wings. A few muttered apologies, while most either shot annoyed looks beneath their masks, or didn’t notice, and I felt like a jerk for wearing something so cumbersome.

Self-consciously, I walked a complete circle around the market field, followed by the sensation of being watched.

So much for anonymity.

Perhaps this was like my birth. Everyone already knew one another. They’d cheated, revealing identities beneath disguises, and I was the only one they didn’t know. The only new person.

A peacock tracked my progress from a light pole, but didn’t approach. Familiarity surrounded an owl and praying mantis who kept up with me, but I couldn’t peg who they were.

Sam had probably asked his friends to watch me. The thought had irritated me at the market, but after seeing Li again, I was sort of glad. Maybe I should have come with him. I shouldn’t have let my feelings get so bruised earlier. It wasn’t like I’d expected him to say he’d have chosen me over Ciana, even before I knew they’d been lovers.

A gray and white shrike turned away as I sensed a gaze from that direction, toward the Councilhouse. Ahead, a hunting hound stared.

I angled toward the southwestern edge of the field. Everything was beautiful, and the thousands of dancing people — that was wonderful. I was alone, though, with just a few of Sam’s friends staring from afar.

Or maybe Li. No telling if she was here or what she might be wearing. Suddenly, every tall, slender figure was suspect.

A ferret touched my arm. “Dance?”

I jumped, but I knew that voice. Armande.

He grinned beneath the whiskers and a mask of a mask, then drew me into the dance, allowing me to use the steps Stef had taught me. We went through the end of a galliard before he escorted me to a buffet I hadn’t seen before, filled with tiny sandwiches and pastries, upside-down paper cups next to urns of coffee and hot cider. Lace covered the table, along with dozens of portraits of a couple I assumed was Tera and Ash, though they wore different faces in each image.

“They must really love each other,” I breathed, before remembering I was in costume. I glanced at Armande to see if he noticed, but he just smiled.

“Your secret is safe with me. But you’re pretty identifiable, even in disguise.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“Oh.” I blushed beneath my mask and took the coffee he offered. “How many lifetimes?”

“Fifty,” he said, and sipped his own drink. “Almost since the beginning. We don’t get many parties like this, but Tera and Ash are always good for one. Every generation.”

If they lived to be about seventy-five every life, that was 3,500 years together. I couldn’t imagine that kind of love.

“For the first few generations, they couldn’t stand being different ages or the same gender, so they used to kill each other in order to be reborn about the same time. No one could talk them out of it.”

I thought loving someone shouldn’t involve so much death. Not that I had any experience with that. “They’re both women now.”

He nodded. “They decided that dying all the time was too painful, and if they loved each other, it shouldn’t matter. Still”—he leaned closer—“when one dies now, the other does, too. I imagine it’s hard to be physically very old while your greatest love is learning to walk again.”

“I bet.” I finished my coffee and dropped the cup in a recycle bin.

Armande and I had a few more dances before he released me to a crow, all shiny black feathers on his mask and clothes. I didn’t know him, but he said something nice about my costume before passing me to a woman dressed as an elk.

I recognized some of my partners — Stef and Whit made appearances as a jewel-toned dragonfly and a lion — but plenty were strangers, as far as I could tell. We had fun. I found myself laughing and asking other people to dance with me, rather than wait to be acknowledged.

Maybe anonymity didn’t matter as much as I’d thought.

I found Sarit, a crest of gray feathers protruding from her black hair, and a bright mask covering the top half of her face. Sharp orange cheeks stood against the yellow silk. Long folds of gray cloth draped across her arms made wings — much better than mine.

“What are you?” I hadn’t seen that kind of bird in Range.

“Cockatiel.” She grinned beneath the wide, hooked beak. “They’re from the other side of the planet.”

Even just southern Range felt far away. I’d have to remember to ask her about the birds, but for now, she took my hand and dragged me toward the Councilhouse steps, where a series of archways had been placed, though not in a straight line. They were everywhere, random. “What’s this?”

“The arch march!” She giggled. “No, don’t actually call it that in front of anyone who does the rededication. They get mad because it sounds silly.”

“I bet you started it.”

“Ma-a-aybe.” She drew the word out into several syllables. “The idea is really sweet, though. They start at the first arch at the base of the stairs, then find their way through the others until they reach the top. The whole time, they’re blindfolded.”

“Blindfolded? The arches aren’t even in a line. They’re all over!” I stared at her. “You’re making this up.”

“Nope. It’s to symbolize the uncertainty of the future. They get to hold hands and offer each other suggestions which way to go. They’ll have seen the layout while they’re dancing, anyway.”

It still sounded crazy to me.

“Each arch symbolizes something important. The obsidian one is night, the flowers — since it’s winter, they’re silk — are happiness, the pine is health. You get the idea.”

“What happens if they don’t make it through all the arches?” I asked as we drifted toward the buffet.

“They always do.” She leaned toward me. “Except that once, they skipped the pine boughs. It was probably a coincidence, but a lot of people got sick that year….”

I shuddered, guessing from her tone that Ash and Tera didn’t live long after that. Still, it was romantic the way they kept coming back to each other.

Revelers danced all around. Sarit pulled me into the nearest circle for a fast eight-person dance, which involved so much clapping my palms stung by the end. We moved on to another group after that, then another, sometimes finding new partners, but always keeping each other in sight so we’d have someone to dance with, just in case.

For two hours, I was a butterfly going from flower to flower, swirling about the masquerade in a flurry of silken wings. I’d never felt pretty before, but so many people complimented me I almost believed them.

The sensation of being watched never eased. If anything, I felt it more strongly as the evening wore on. I still hadn’t found Sam, but he’d probably gotten bored and gone back to his house. He hadn’t wanted to come to begin with.

Regretting having drunk so much coffee, I excused myself from Sarit and slipped inside the Councilhouse to use the washroom. I needed the break, anyway. My legs were tired and my cheeks numb from grinning.

I hadn’t known what exactly to expect of this ceremony, but it
was
fun, as Stef had promised. Plus, I liked how this was important to people. Maybe they didn’t bother to hide identities, but the fact they put so much work into making a special evening for Tera and Ash…

This was something I could appreciate.

I felt better when I came out again, surveying the crowd from the stairs. Masks glittered, but the night held dark pockets. I saw the shrike again, as well as the peacock, both pretending not to watch as I descended.

A fast song played, making people prance and skip around. Someone caught me and spun me, grabbed me again. Rough hands squeezed mine, dragged me through the press. Fingers dug into my sides and snatched me away to another dancer.

A wolf. A hawk. A lizard. Soon they surrounded me. The music became a frenzied blur in my ears, and the world a dark and bright smear on my eyes.

They tossed me about like a butterfly in a gale. I spun from hands to hands so my hair whipped into my eyes. Ribbons and flowers fluttered, and my mask strained to fly off. I pinned it against my cheeks, lost and dizzy with energy and fear.

There were so many strangers. So much noise.

Feet stepped on mine, and my arms ached where too many hands gripped. Every piece of me was sore and shaking. When I tried to flee, the wolf seized me again, ignoring when I screamed. The music was loud, and others shouted with joy. The din swallowed my voice whole.

I jabbed my elbow into the wolf’s chest and kicked the lizard’s shin, tried to run again. A swan caught me, but before they recaptured me in their circle, a new dancer stepped in and fitted himself between the others and me.

My heart raced, but he caressed my cheek and shot the others a fierce look as he drew me to safety. Wings strained as he spun me away, before I got a look at his mask. I caught only a flash of gray and black and a streak of white, and then my back pressed against his chest. His arm around my waist kept me from facing him, but his embrace was gentle.

His fingers brushed my cheek, down my neck. The entire masquerade stretched out before me, but my focus tunneled to the man behind me. Hands eased toward my hips and held tight as we spun; my feet lifted off the ground, but even when I thought the wings might carry me into the breeze, he held me tight.

My new captor, or rescuer, guided us toward the edge of the crowd. He kept me so close no one could come between us. His hands stayed on my hips and stomach. The music turned slower and deeper, and his fingers curled against silk-covered flesh. I couldn’t breathe.

The whole dance shifted. Heavy seductiveness replaced the fear, and the gaiety before that. My new partner smoothed my dress down my stomach, down my thigh. When I tilted my head back against his shoulder, warmth billowed against my throat where he kissed.

I stiffened and gasped, almost darted away. But his arms tightened, somehow conveying apology, and I remembered he hadn’t hurt me, only saved me from the others. I relaxed again and closed my eyes. We’d moved beyond the worst of the crowd, and I trusted him not to let us run into anyone.

Music filled the space around us, the slivers of air between us. Strings sang, long and warm as gold. Flutes sounded like silver, and clarinets like forests.

This almost wasn’t real. It was almost a dream when I tilted my head back again; his mouth lingered just over my skin, and I managed a slight nod. His hesitation lasted a lifetime, but finally his lips brushed the tip of my ear.

I shivered deeper into his embrace, pressed my hands over his so he wouldn’t let me go. I’d waited my entire life for this.

Eternities passed between kisses down my neck. His free hand traced patterns on my hip and thigh and back up, around my wing. He touched my face and hair, restraint evident in the way he trembled and tried again.

A waltz began. His breath caught as he took my hand, spun me away, and then drew me back so we faced each other.

His mask covered the upper half of his face. Not a hawk or falcon, in spite of the hooked beak; the markings weren’t right. Dashes of black under his eyes, gray hood and feathers, and a white ruffle at his throat. The shrike.

He didn’t give me a chance to study him further, just drew me close so I leaned against him. His arms circled my waist, careful beneath my wings. As we danced, his heart pounded over the music. I could feel the tension in his arms and chest, trying to hold me, trying not to break me. I wanted to say something, reassure him that I trusted him, but if I spoke, the moment might shatter.