House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City, #2)

Bryce slid onto a stool at the eight-seat counter that made up Tempest in a Teapot, her favorite tea bar in the city.

Nestled on Ink Street in the heart of the Old Square, most of the narrow, graffiti-painted alley was quiet, most of the shops shut. Only the tea bar and the tiny bakery operating out of a window between two tattoo parlors were open. Come lunch, the many eateries would roll up their doors and set out the little tables and benches that crowded either side of the street. Once the lunch crowd returned to their offices, the street would quiet again—until the after-work rush of people eager for a beer, a specialty cocktail, or more food. And sundown brought in a whole new crowd: drunk assholes.

“Morning, B,” Juniper said, her curly hair pulled back into an elegant bun, brown skin glowing in the morning light. She stood alongside Fury, who’d perched herself on a barstool and was scrolling through her phone. “Just wanted to say hi before practice.”

Bryce kissed her friend on her silken cheek. “Hi. You’re gorgeous. I hate you.”

Juniper laughed. “You should see me when I’m dripping with sweat in an hour.”

“You’ll still be gorgeous,” Bryce said, and Fury nodded without taking her focus from her phone. “Did you guys order?”

“Yeah.” Fury put away her phone. “So go ahead.”

Juniper said, “Mine’s to go, though.” She tapped her navy dance bag, which was partially unzipped, the soft pink of her leotard peeking out. For a moment, Bryce allowed herself to look at her friend—really look at the beauty that was Juniper. Graceful and tall and thin, certainly not the wrong body type.

What would it have been like to be heading into morning practice? To have a dance bag full of gear and not a purse full of random crap on her shoulder? Heels braced on the rail beneath the bar, Bryce couldn’t stop her feet from twitching, arching—as if testing the strength and pliancy of pointe shoes.

Bryce had known the high of performance well. Had craved it those years in Nidaros, dancing with her small team at the rec hall. She’d been the best dancer in town—in their entire mountainous region. Then she’d come to Lunathion and learned what a fragile bubble she’d been living inside. And, yeah, ultimately she didn’t think she could have lasted as long as Juniper, but … seeing the faun standing there, some small part of her wondered. Yearned.

Bryce swallowed, then sighed, clearing away the cobwebs of her old dreams. Dancing in Madame Kyrah’s class twice a week was pleasure enough. And though Kyrah had once graced the stage of CCB herself until she’d decided to open a studio, the dancer-turned-instructor understood.

So Bryce asked, “What are you guys rehearsing today?”

“Marceline,” Juniper said, her eyes flickering. “But I don’t have the lead.”

Bryce’s brows rose. “I thought you were rehearsing for it these last weeks.”

Fury said tightly, “Apparently, Marceline’s costume doesn’t fit Juniper.”

Bryce’s mouth popped open.

“Roles are often determined that way,” Juniper said quickly. “But I’m fine with soloist.”

Bryce and Fury swapped a look. No, she wasn’t. But after the disaster this spring, the CCB had put a hold on any “new” changes. Including June’s promotion from soloist to principal.

Juniper had often wondered aloud over drinks or pastries whether that hold was because she’d been the only one in the bomb shelter to demand that they keep the doors open for humans to get in. Had gone hoof-to-toe with some of their wealthiest patrons, thinking nothing of the consequences for her career.

Of what it might mean for the first faun to ever grace the stage of that theater to curse out those patrons, to condemn them to their faces for their cowardice and selfishness.

Well, this was what it meant for her.

June slumped into the stool beside Bryce, stretching out her long legs. Another year of waiting in the wings for her chance to shine.

“So who got your shot at Marceline?” The group of principals and veteran soloists rotated through the main roles each night.

“Korinne,” Juniper said, a shade too neutrally.

Bryce scoffed. “You’re twenty times the dancer she is.”

June laughed softly. “No way.”

“Way,” Fury added.

“Come on,” Bryce said, elbowing Juniper. “No need to be humble.”

June shrugged, then smiled at the barista as she handed over a green tea in a to-go cup. “Okay. Maybe twice the dancer she is.”

Fury said, “There’s my girl.” She nodded her thanks to the barista as her own drink was deposited in a ceramic mug.

Juniper pulled off the lid of her to-go cup and blew on the steaming-hot brew inside.

Bryce asked, “Did you give any thought to that offer from the Heprin Company?”

“Yeah,” June murmured. Fury suddenly became very interested in her drink.

“And?” Bryce pushed. “They’re practically crawling to have you as principal.” And so were about three other smaller dance companies in the city.

“They’re great,” June said quietly. “But they’re still a step down.”

Bryce nodded. She got it. She really did. For a dancer in Valbara, CCB was the pinnacle. The distant star to aspire to. And June had been so close. Close enough to touch that glimmer of principal dancer. Now she was in free fall.

“I want to hold out for another year,” June said, putting the lid on her tea and standing. “Just to see if things change.” Pain gleamed in her friend’s large, beautiful eyes.

“They will,” Bryce assured her, because hope was the only thing she could offer at the moment.

“Thanks,” Juniper said. “I’m off. I’ll see you at home later,” she said to Fury, leaning in to kiss her swiftly. When she made to step away, however, Fury put a hand on her cheek, keeping her there. Deepened the kiss for a few heartbeats.

Then Fury pulled back, holding her girlfriend’s stare, and said, “See you at home.” Sensual promise laced every word.

Juniper was more than a bit breathless, her cheeks flushing, as she turned to Bryce and kissed her cheek. “Bye, B,” she said, then was gone into the sun and dust.

Bryce glanced sidelong at Fury. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”

Fury snorted. “You have no idea.”

“How was date night?” Bryce asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Fury Axtar sipped delicately from her tea. “Exquisite.”

Pleasure and happiness quietly radiated from her friend, and Bryce smiled. “What are you drinking?”

“Chai with almond milk. It’s good. Spicy.”

“You’ve never been here?”

“Do I look like the kind of person who goes to tea bars?”

“Yes …?”

Fury laughed, her dark hair swaying. She wore her usual head-to-toe black, despite the heat. “Fair enough. So, what’s this urgent thing you need to talk to me about?”