Minerva stared down at the knit tablecloth, her sculpted brows gathered in contemplation. Finally she took a breath and with it, the mood in the tent thickened with black anticipation. To Leanna's eyes, the belonging shadows of the room seemed to darken as if invaded by Death. A death she was certain waited on the fringes for the coming demise of her dreams.

"Finvarra loved women," Minerva started, pulling Leanna from her brooding. "Human women in particular. I've always thought it was because mortal women have hearts, whereas Faeries don't. Perhaps curiosity over their emotions... their humanity?" Her gaze grew distant in thought.

A hum and a shrug brought her back to present. "When Finvarra saw a girl he desired, he persuaded her to steal away with him into Forever where they could dance the night away, and love freely with little regard for anyone else. Many legends spread in the human realm of girls vanishing at night, but there was no proof. The women Finvarra took were always found in their beds the following morning with only hazy memories of an icy palace, and the scent of vanilla on their skin."

Leanna lowered her eyes and rubbed her arms, remembering the scent all too well. Bitterness nudged her heart, and a slight of jealousy answered back.

Minerva leaned forward, smoothing the tablecloth in slow strokes. "One day, however, a girl did not return."

Leanna's eyes jerked up at the revelation.

"Her name was Aithne, the most beautiful girl in all of Éire. Her husband was so proud of her that he held festivals to celebrate her beauty, day after day. His castle was filled with music and dancing, feasting and tributes, all in her honor. The praises were so many; the winds carried them through the veil of our worlds and into Forever, into Finvarra's ears. Hearing of her beauty, Finvarra went to her that night, while her husband slept. Like the other girls, Aithne didn't deny him and Finvarra whisked her away to Forever, for what was supposed to be one night."

Leanna swallowed deeply, her cheeks hot and prickly. To hear of so many other girls burned with a fire she wished didn't exist. She pressed a cool hand on them as Minerva went on.

"Many nights passed with Aithne at Finvarra's side. You must understand, Forever is nowhere for a human. It is timeless, pure and clean. It is dancing and music. This purity makes it so that there is no sickness, no storms...just pure magic." Minerva's brows lowered, troubled. "Human hearts are dangerous, and their spirits corrupt and insatiable. In a land of such pureness, they become addicted to this magic, to this freedom. It becomes much like an addiction to laudanum. They want to live in it, forever. Aithne was no exception. It happened that when Finvarra meant to take her back to her home, she begged him to let her stay." She shook her head. "He should have denied her, but she was beautiful and he was..." Her eyes turned down, fishing for the right word.

Leanna knew the right word. "Blinded," she murmured, remembering Ellie's haunting revelation: Finvarra was blinded. She was beautiful and he was a fool...

"Blind, indeed," Minerva agreed, "and sadly, for far too long. The more time Aithne remained in Forever, the uglier she became. Not in semblance," Minerva pressed a hand against her heart, "but in spirit. Rapt by her beauty, Finvarra failed to see that vanity had long corrupted her heart, before he'd ever taken her. Weakened by this conceit, her time in Forever made her heart grow black. Her addiction to the timelessness, to the magic—to him, grew, until it drove her mad. Finvarra realized too late that she had to go home."

Minerva sighed as if weighed down by this heartbreaking tale. "They say he rode Aithne out to the threshold where the human world meets Forever. She begged Finvarra to stay with him. But, no longer a fool for her tears or her beauty, he denied her. He told her that no creature with a heart could ever live in Forever, especially with a heart as dark as hers. What he didn't know was that Aithne expected him to say this—prepared for it."

Minerva paused and looked Leanna in the eyes. "When Finvarra bid his goodbye; she took out a concealed dagger from her sleeve and stabbed herself straight through the heart."

Leanna cupped her mouth, gasping through trembling fingers. She shut her eyes tightly a moment, not knowing whether to curse Finvarra's foolishness and pity Machina, or—or what to do with this impossible situation!

"It was a tragedy," Minerva lamented. "But for human blood to be spilled on Faerie ground," she lifted a finger to stress the point, "that was an abomination. Faeries believe in life and nature. There is nothing natural in a suicide. Imagine then, for a human to die on Faerie land because of a suicide?" She scoffed. "The effects of it were felt all the way to the Otherworld, where the elders of Forever spend their eternity."

Drawing a breath, Leanna stiffened, the ache in her chest making her ribs a painful prison for her lungs. Aithne loved him, and killed herself because of a broken heart. That hurt Leanna the most. "And I suppose this was why Finvarra was cursed?" she asked quietly, still shaken.

"This is the beginning of why, yes," Minerva spoke through Leanna's torment. "Finvarra tried to fix his blunder. In knowing that Aithne would never survive without a heart in the human realm, and in knowing that her death would undoubtedly bring about the wrath of the elders, he commissioned the Woodland trolls to make her one. That night, Finvarra returned Aithne to her husband, his beautiful bride now kept alive by a mechanical heart. Once a girl, and now a machine..."

"Machina," Leanna rasped, her throat burned with emotion. As much as she wished against it, a sickening pity lurched into her soul for the poor girl.

Minerva nodded. She refilled Leanna's tea, no doubt having heard the strain of her voice.

Gazing at the pouring liquid, Leanna's heart clenched. How many tears did Aithne... Machina cry over her broken heart? Did she cry still?

"Making this heart for her was supposed to have resolved things, and many hoped Finvarra would have learned his lesson." Minerva set down the porcelain pot and settled back. Red lips bowed to a frown, telling Leanna he didn't.

"Finvarra underestimated Aithne's obsession and continued finding other girls to entertain, making certain to never let them stay longer than a night. As always, they were found in their beds the following morning... until they began disappearing, later discovered dead outside of the gates of Forever—robbed of their beauty and of their hearts."

Hearing this was hard, and Leanna lowered her eyes down at her tea. She didn't dare reach for it as her hands trembled terribly now. "Somehow, I always knew the rumors of Finvarra were not true. I always knew it wasn't him that killed those girls, but I never imagined this." She pressed fingers to her lips and took a moment. "Never this."

"He may not have killed them directly," Minerva said, "But he was still at fault. See, being of mortal flesh yet kept alive by the magic of this heart, Aithne was able to travel both the human world and Forever freely. She was always watching, and began killing any woman Finvarra showed affections to, anything from a kiss to a passing glance. Knowing of Machina's jealousy, however, Finvarra still took to his vice, saying that she would not control him or bend to her will." Minerva made a face of disgust. "It was a terrible time. So many lives were lost because of this sick game of power between Finvarra and Machina. The resulting bloodshed began to poison the Faerie realm. Because of this heated hatred, snow stopped falling in Forever and the ice began to melt. Though unprecedented, the elders were forced to act or the murders would eventually be the end of Forever."

The winds outside howled a chorus of foreshadowing laments, and a cold tremor passed through Leanna like a ghost. A ghost, indeed, she believed, the ghost of her ignorance abandoning her.

"The elders cursed Finvarra for his vanity, for his selfishness," Minerva revealed. "For all the girls that lost their hearts to him, he was in turn given a heart and banished. Only when he gives this heart away to a woman in an act of love will he find forgiveness and be allowed to go back home."

Leanna's brows gathered, her fingers pausing their restless twine. "But... you said mortal hearts cannot live in Forever. If he loves her and gives his heart to her, how can they be together?"

Minerva met Leanna's eyes, a sad smile curling the blood red lips. "And there's the rub. They can't. Finvarra must part with his love, leaving her to the mercy of Machina who will kill her the same way she kills any woman Finvarra cares for. It is in losing the woman he loves that Finvarra will understand the pain he caused those innocent girls."

With a shake of her head, Minerva rose. She slid her chair in and gripped the knobs tightly. "That, child, is the curse that bound Finvarra and his court to this circus, and left Forever without her King."

Leanna felt her world topple—no, it stopped. It most definitely stopped. She splayed her hands on the table, seeking stability, reality. "King?" she echoed.

"Indeed," Minerva said, walking across the room.

As Minerva moved, the soft swish of her skirt sounded more like the tsk, tsk of pity Leanna often heard from her sisters when forced to miss the simple joys of life because of her heart. Now Leanna was certain the fabric of Minerva's skirt was the one expressing pity over her ignorance.

"Though Finvarra has many names, he is, in fact, Finvarra, High King of the Faeries. The members of this circus were those of his court who were also punished for doing nothing to prevent him. Sovereign or not, they should have put their morality first and appealed to Finvarra to stop. But they turned a blind eye, content with their lives of dancing and relishing in the glory of Forever. Thus they too share in his curse." Minerva stopped at her desk, retrieving her measuring tape again. Draping it around her neck, she turned back to Leanna. "Their lives were a circus, and thus they were cursed to become one. As their king, Finvarra became their Ringmaster."

After the echo of Minerva's last word faded, Leanna said nothing for a long time. She didn't tremble. She didn't move. She didn't breathe. She simply looked down at her empty hands. It was so much. It was all so much.

"Not what you expected, I know," Minerva murmured absently, draping red cloth over the shoulders of a mannequin.

"I... I don't know what to say. I..." Leanna swallowed the rest of her words. Though a weight had been lifted in finally knowing who Finvarra was, who Machina was, the load in her heart and shoulders had never felt so heavy. "With so many answers, I feel more lost than ever. I don't know who to pity, who to hate... and all those innocent girls."

"Finvarra was a young king, and stupid. But this world has aged him, and he's learned. He hasn't catered to any girl, however beautiful to however frivolous, not for many years now. Machina, however, is relentless and will kill the most beautiful girl in the town as a guarantee Finvarra won't ever see her, or desire her. No woman can be more beautiful than her." Minerva paused. Looking at the fabric, she wrinkled her nose and tossed it aside. Retrieving a black one in its stead, she said, "Hopefully this will be the last of his trial and the circus can finally be free."

Leanna bit the inside of her lip to stay its tremble. "That's the worst part of all. In knowing so much now, I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Like a lost child, a crestfallen Leanna gazed up to Minerva. "How can a muse fix this? How can I possibly free a King and his court from this?"

Minerva's hands slid from the mannequin's shoulders slowly, curiously. She cast Leanna a grave look. "The Leanan Sidhe is not just a muse," she said through narrowed eyes. "Yes, she does inspire, but it comes at a price."

"What price?"

Minerva considered Leanna for a moment, a war in those black eyes—a debate as to whether Leanna was prepared for the answer. Her lips pursed, she turned back to her mannequin with quiet murmurs Leanna knew to be curses and damnations. An angry tug here, and a jabbed pin there, and she didn't speak another word.

After many quiet minutes, frustration drove Leanna's hands into tight fists, and made her voice hard and stern. "I deserve to know. If I am supposed to save this circus somehow and free Finvarra, I need to know what it is I am and what I am supposed to do."

Minerva exhaled, her shoulders lowering. Still, she said nothing.

Possessed by her desire for truth, Leanna rose and walked around the mannequin. Over its shoulder, she bore her gaze into Minerva's eyes. Minerva made to ignore her and insert another pin, but Leanna clutched her wrist firmly. "Please," she said against Minerva's surprised stare. "What price?"

Minerva's look of surprise changed to one of approval. "You have spine." She looked down at Leanna's hand wound at her wrist favorably. "You will need it for what I am about to tell you, and what is to come."

At this, Leanna released her wrist, dread trickling slowly down her spine.

Whirling her hand in a slow circle, Minerva walked to her desk, and set down the pin cushion. Their stares locked for infinite moments. Leanna nodded once, encouragingly, prepared--or at least she hoped so.

"Very well. When Finvarra was cursed, the elders added a clause," she started. "Since they believe so much in the natural order of things, they said the troupe can be forgiven if Finvarra gives his heart away or if he dies of natural causes. At the time, this clause seemed unimportant since Faeries have exceedingly long lifetimes. A natural death won't come soon enough for Finvarra. Not while being chased after by Machina. Every day he is alive is another day Machina can trap him. He won't risk the lives of his troupe waiting to die. He needs death to come faster."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Leanna asked, bitterness settled at the mouth of her stomach.

"Everything. Lovers of the Leanan Sidhe live highly inspired lives...inspired, but brief lives. Any man she impassions is slowly driven to madness, as they desire more of her. But this devotion not only eats away at their sanity, but also their lives until they die." She looked at Leanna in the eyes. "You will free him, Leanna, because as his Leanan Sidhe, you will inspire him to madness, to death. That is why he has waited for you all of these years. You are his natural death—the only way he can guarantee that everyone in his troupe will be forgiven."

Much paler than in all the years of illness combined, Leanna opened her mouth. She shut it. The world around her shattered and reshaped itself into a nauseating reality. She would, in fact, bring Finvarra the ultimate freedom—his death. Leanna swallowed deeply while gripping her skirt tightly for the strength to keep the bile down. Chilled to the core, she bolted to her feet and paced the room, needing space, needing air, and needing to escape this horrid truth that echoed in her ears. There was no way she would cause Finvarra's death.

There is no way.

"There is no way. I will not be his death!" She spun to Minerva, hot indignant tears clouding her eyes. "First, I am not his lover. All I am is a meddling fool!" she declared passionately. "All I have brought upon him is trouble. I couldn't ever inspire him to the point he'd desire more of me, and much less to the point I'd drive him to—"

"To madness?" Minerva cut in gently. "If I am not mistaken, he has used dark magic to free you, knowing Machina is always watching. He has risked this entire circus by making you his main act. He has crossed beyond the crystals, where his enemy lies in wait, after you convinced him—a king—to humble himself and apologize to a subordinate." Minerva leaned back against her desk, a brow arched. "How much more madness do you seek?"

It all made sense, but Leanna shook her head vehemently. "No, it doesn't matter. I am not going to take his life. I've spent my entire life being told what to do, but I'm free here and it is my choice not to submit to this." Arms folded over her chest, Leanna held herself still, mullish. "Someone else can do it, but I can't. I won't."

"No one else can," Minerva replied mildly, and the ease with which her words came told Leanna this was so. "He cannot kill himself. He cannot be murdered. But for the Leanan Sidhe to drive him to madness, to the point he dies, that is natural. This loophole is why he needs you, Leanna. You are his natural death."

Minerva's words pieced together a new reality around Leanna. This timeless storybook that was the circus indeed had an ending, and she would be the one to write it. Cupping her mouth, Leanna's arms unfolded and she withered down onto the platform. Though her chair was but a few steps across the room, the weight in her heart was heavy and her chair much too far for her watery knees.

"So all I am to him, all I've ever been, is a loophole," she said weakly.

Minerva gave her a pointed look. "You and I both know that isn't true. Your will is strong, but he is the faerie king, his glamour as supreme as it is flawless. No mortal has ever resisted him, yet he did not kiss you and let you go with your virtue intact."

Leanna winced, having forgotten all about the dreaded near kiss. "How did you—"

"Psh." Minerva waved her hand airily. "You're not the only one that frequents me needing answers. Did Finvarra not care for you in his own cold way, did he have no regard for your feelings, he would have kissed you that night. Don't doubt his feelings. Yes, fear drives out magic, but fear can be dispelled and you can find magic again after it is gone. But Doubt is much worse," she warned. She poked her chest with a firm finger. "Doubt digs roots that remain forever and slowly suffocate love, until the heart turns to ice. It is doubt that kills love, and there is no greater magic than love. Promise me you will remember this."

Hearing the words burned. "His feelings?" Leanna scoffed. "All I am to him is death in mortal form."

"Do not let your emotions rule you, child. You know there is more to you and Finvarra that exceeds that of his desire for death. You two have been bound long before you came into this circus."

Leanna knew this, but her heart ached with bitterness and she saw no reason past the irrefutable truths presented her.

Minerva gritted her teeth. "He should have told you," she said harshly, her undertones apologetic.

Crestfallen, Leanna lifted her eyes, a sad smile touching her lips at her own foolishness. "That's the thing. He did," she confessed in a quiet voice. "From the moment we met, he told me I would free him. He said I would be the death of him... and I agreed." Leanna lowered her eyes. "I agreed."

Frozen, Leanna stared blindly at the groves on the wooden floor as chasms of pain burst open in her heart. The facts were all there, had always been there, from the moment she first met Finvarra. Memories flitted through her mind of that first meeting. He'd looked at her so earnestly, confessing, you will be the death of me. I need you... And instead of asking the right question, anger and pride had led her to agree. Not finding any more words, Leanna kept to her silence.

The rest of the appointment passed with measurements taken and no words spoken. Minerva made no attempts at polite conversation, and for this Leanna was grateful. Disappointment marred her every breath and she struggled to keep her angry tears inside, refusing to let them fall. She wouldn't cry for this.

The visit over, Leanna rose quietly, clutching her old rehearsal attire to her chest. Now clad in black muslin with a glittering trim and hose, very much a fallen star, she walked to the door. She may have murmured a thank you, a good night, or might not have said anything at all as she turned her back on Minerva and walked out into the night.

Zips of light streaked the sky, parallel to Leanna's dash across the damp field. Blinded by Minerva's painful revelations, she let her spirit guide her somewhere, anywhere—someplace, anyplace where she could forget this innocence and ignorance that haunted her all her life.

Patches of conversation, of carefree laughter rippled in the air, eclipsing the crunch of her steps. The soft strums of a guitar stayed her retreat. Leanna looked to the cookhouse from whence the music came. Sitting at the center table was Vicente with his guitar. Eyes closed, he plucked away a joyful song while around him, the performers congregated, some dancing, others singing wholly out of tune.

In all, in the midst of such darkness, there in the cookhouse was some happiness. The sight wound itself around Leanna's heart, narrowing with each ragged breath. She was their salvation. This joy didn't have to be temporary if she did what was expected of her.

Clutching her chest, Leanna turned away.

The circus forgive her, but she couldn't.

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Thank you for reading! Please vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter :)