Chapter Text
The traveling circus had arrived on the outskirts of the city of Granada three days before the full moon that summer.
The tents resembled giant mushrooms rising into the cerulean Andalusian sky, and the scent of dust from the roads, incense, and sweat was a testament to their presence. Some locals, the more conservative ones, cursed and spat as they passed by when they saw the unwelcome gypsies, but other locals, especially the young, waited with big expectations for the performances.
Those who paid just a few coins, less than the price of three eggs, could feast their eyes on the extravagant costumes, the magic tricks, and the acrobats that would make them dream and laugh and forget their tiresome routines and sometimes boring, uneventful lives for a while. Children and teenagers who did not have permission to go to the circus had to content themselves with daydreaming and listening, enviously, to the reports and anecdotes told by the friends who were able to go.
That's how it was every summer.
It was show night, and the whole town was buzzing with frantic activity: drums, tambourines, and stringed instruments called out to the people. There were small groups of gypsies dancing on almost every street or selling fried foods and trinkets of all kinds to passersby. Old women, scandalized, made the sign of the cross as they left the church, and old men went out to patrol the streets, ensuring that no one disrespected the women or stole from them.
The line to enter the circus was long, and the children were restless, asking how long it would be before they could be inside the huge tents.
Aitana waited for customers in her small fortune-telling shop, which was at a reasonable distance from the main circus tent. It was decorated with shiny moons and stars, chimeric animals, and passages in a strange language. Inside her shop, an ornamental glass ball, many candles, runes, and other interesting objects could be found, to create an ambiance of mysticism.
Her mother had taught her to read the future in the lines of the palms since she was 10 years old, and when the frail woman died, orphaned Aitana didn't hesitate for a second to join the circus and wander the world, peddling her humble skills to survive.
However, that night, Aitana didn't try too hard to understand the lines on the palms of any payos. Their loves and fortunes would not be read very well, because the woman's mind was set on the boy, and nothing else.
Aitana smelled of smuggled French perfume, and her small ears were adorned with beautiful, genuine gold earrings, because she would attend the most awaited show of the summer, the one that filled all the seats, the most scandalous and criticized show, but also the favorite one.
The boy’s show.
Every move Lian made was dangerous. Every knife that flew through the air made the women pray, made the men close their eyes, made the children scream. All the spectators were afraid, but no one, especially Aitana, could take their eyes off the scene.
The moment of his performance that night had arrived.
Lian, blindfolded, twirled the silver blades between his long, elegant fingers.
The audience was deathly silent.
Lian, the most gorgeous one in the clan. Twenty years old, energetic, smart, alluring. Silky skin, the color of cinnamon, and feline green eyes that looked like precious stones. His heart-shaped lips, which rarely smiled, elicited sighs and dirty desires.
Lian didn’t know how sinful and delicious he looked when he would bite his lower lip for concentration before throwing a knife.
His black silk shirt left his chest exposed to combat the August heat, and his leather boots and tight-fitting breeches accentuated his long legs, his toned thighs. His hair, black and long, reaching well below his shoulders, was contained by a bandana.
Aitana held her breath every time the blade passed within inches of Lian's assistant's body, who was a 15-year-old girl. Every time the tip of the knife dug into the wood at incredible speed, people let out cries and sighs of relief.
When the chilling performance ended and Lian gently took his assistant by the hand, both bowing to the audience, the cheers and applause were deafening.
Aitana, palms red by clapping so hard, was burning with love and desire.
Later in the night, the musicians played bulerías, and the people of the clan gathered to drink, but Aitana, alone, stared at the sky.
The moon was full, huge.
From the first time she saw Lian, when she was 26 and he was 18, she desired him.
She knew that her love for Lian was almost impossible. Such a charming boy could have any woman in the circus, in the city, in the whole world. Women followed him like moths to a flame, attracted by that dangerous combination of beauty, risk, and indifference.
But the heart never stops for logic, and Aitana suffered in silence every time the boy passed by her, barely acknowledging her existence.
On that full moon night, Aitana knew that if you wished for something, she, the moon, would be there at the top of the mountain to listen to you. If she liked you, it was possible that, for a price, your dream would come true. So, desperate, Aitana finally decided to go and talk to the moon.
As she climbed the rocky mountain, the lines between reality and illusion in Aitana's world became blurred. It was a hot night, but Aitana felt a chill coming from the core of her body. It was the effects of the moon. Still, she was brave and kept going.
When the woman reached the top, she unwillingly whispered chants in an ancient language she had never spoken before, and she felt strange things in her body.
After almost two hours of climbing, there she was in the sky. Massive, reflecting the blinding light of the sun. The full moon, enigmatic and cold.
Aitana knelt on the dry ground, her hands clasped together and her face bathed in silvery light. Finally, finally! She was brave enough to face the moon. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving glistening trails in the darkness.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please hear me.”
The wind stopped. The crickets fell silent. The whole world seemed to hold its breath.
And then, the voice came. It was not a sound that entered her ears, but resonated directly in Aitana's chest, chilling and ancient, containing all the mysteries of the universe.
“Who is bothering me with such pathetic laments?”
Aitana raised her head abruptly. The moon seemed even larger, closer, and on its silvery surface, she thought she saw the outline of a face: beautiful, perfect, and completely devoid of compassion.
“I am Aitana Heredia, daughter of gypsies, seer of other people’s destinies,” she replied in a trembling voice. “I come to beg you...”
“Oh, another one. Everyone comes to beg. No one comes to offer, to thank, to acknowledge, or at least to ask questions. Only to ask for things, like dogs.”
“Forgive me,” begged Aitana, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I've been suffering for so long. I've tried to forget him, I swear. But love...”
“Love?” The moon's laughter sounded like breaking glass. “You see a beautiful man and you want him for yourself. That's not love, girl. That's hunger.”
The words cut like knives, but Aitana stood her ground.
"Call it what you will. But without him, my life has no meaning. Lian is... the reason I wake up every morning. I've watched him, I know him. I want him. I don't just want his body, I want his laughter, his silences, his fears. I want to grow old by his side. Lian is the most perfect man on this earth. Only I can make him as happy as he deserves to be, I know it."
“But what exactly do you want?” replied the moon, not taking this trite plea too seriously, although surprisingly in a better mood than on other nights.
Aitana's heart beat faster.
“I want Lian to fall in love with me. I want him to see me the way I see him. I want him to desire me, choose me, take me as his wife. I want to be his woman forever.”
“And what do you offer me in return?”
“Anything,” Aitana replied without hesitation. “I have some money saved up, jewelry I inherited from my mother...”
“Wait. Do you really think I need your trinkets?” The voice sounded offended. “I am the moon, idiot. I rule the tides, the spells, I light up the night, I am the goddess of the dark sky. What can I possibly do with your stuff?”
Aitana bit her lip.
“What do you want then?”
The silence that followed was long and heavy. When the moon spoke again, her crystal voice sounded somewhat melancholic.
“You know what loneliness is, Aitana Heredia. But your loneliness is small, fleeting. Mine is eternal.”
“I don't understand...”
“Every night I rise above this world, watching in complete silence. I see mothers cradling their children, lovers meeting secretly under my light. I witness all the love in the world, but I can never touch it, never have it. I am barren, in the form of a frozen stone condemned to shine alone for all eternity.”
Aitana felt a chill.
“What are you asking of me?”
“If I give you what you want, if I make that green-eyed man love you as much as you say you love him... I want something I can never create for myself. I want your first child. The firstborn you will conceive with him.”
“What...!” Aitana recoiled in panic. “Are you crazy? A child is...”
“What? Sacred? Invaluable?” The moon laughed bitterly. “But a moment ago, you were willing to give ‘anything’. Did your words mean nothing?”
"I didn't mean a child. I can't..."
“Then leave.” The moon shouted, and a slight tremor shook the earth. “Go back to your wagon, to your lonely life. Keep watching him from the shadows while he takes other women, while you grow old without ever tasting his love, without ever touching his body. Keep reading happy destinies for others while yours is gray.”
Aitana closed her eyes. Images flooded her mind: Lian naked, body sated, in the arms of other women, Lian marrying some young girl from the village, Aitana herself turned into a bitter old woman reading palms of strangers.
“Why a child?” she asked, her voice breaking. “What would you do with him?”
“After you wean him, you would bring him here, to the top of the mountain, and I would raise him as my own. I would give him my light, my magic. He would be my human companion in the vastness of the sky. I would not hurt him. Only... he would no longer be yours.”
“It would be like tearing him from my arms. It would be condemning me to lose the child I carry.”
“It would be the price of your happiness.” The moon would not budge. “Think about it carefully, woman. Wouldn't you prefer a lifetime with the man you love, knowing that you will lose your first child but that you can have many more with him?”
“You are cruel.”
“No. Life is cruel. This cruel life is what made you fall in love with a man who doesn't care about you. I am just the moon.”
Aitana trembled. She hugged herself, staring at the ground beneath her knees.
“If I accept... how will I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?”
"Before the next full moon ends, Lian will have fallen at your feet. He will want you with a passion he has never felt for anyone else. He will ask you to marry him. And you will conceive a child with him."
The wind blew again, soft and warm, carrying the smell of the camp: food, wine, perfume, sweat. Aitana knew that Lian was there, her beautiful boy.
Aitana thought of the sparkle in Lian's green eyes beneath his long, thick black lashes, of what it would be like to wake up next to him every morning, to feel his lips on hers.
“I accept,” she whispered. “I accept your pact.”
The wind ceased. The crickets began to sing again. The moon regained its normal appearance, distant and serene.
Aitana got up with trembling legs and walked back to the settlement.