Lux [h.s]

sixty-four

Pine branches adorned the candles on the staircase, flickering light reflecting off Dwyn's auburn hair and painting their soft shadows on the dark wood of the wall. The red dress felt odd on Cora, even though it hugged her frame in all the right ways. She felt like a dressed-up scarecrow, though Dwyn kept repeating she looked beautiful.

"You've lived among humans for so long, haven't you?" Dwyn's voice rang out, unexpectedly loud in the otherwise silent hallway. "How do they celebrate solstice?"

Cora hummed, recalling the memory of quiet evenings by her aunt's side in front of the fireplace of the hostel, eating almond cookies and hot chocolate with milk. Her aunt had never been one for celebrations, and they'd never had any extended family to celebrate with. It'd never struck her as sad—until now, when she realised she had no personal experience of hers to reply with. But she'd seen life flow beyond the frosted windows of the hostel, she'd heard it in her friends' stories. "They spend it with their family or friends," she let out. Her voice felt like a brittle, fragile thing. "They like giving each other presents. If it's cold enough, they go down to the lake. Some years it's frozen over, and it's fun to play there." A faint smile curved her lips as she remembered those rare afternoons of the new year she'd spent sitting on its solid, gelid surface as Adair skated circles around her, claiming it was easy. It wasn't easy. The only time she'd tried, she'd fallen down so hard he'd had to carry her back to the hostel. "The children sometimes go to the greenwood and dare each other to walk in, but none ever does."

Dwyn chuckled. "So they spread awful legends over the fay woods overseas too? I thought it was an Isle thing."

Cora hummed. The candle they walked by flickered in a wisp of wind as they stepped into the entrance of the house. More candles had been set on chairs in the corners, or on the floor, following the line of the walls. Others were on the pieces of furniture scattered around the room—a couple of shelves, a small table—possibly to hide the fact that Harry's stars, above her head, were still dark.

Cora took a deep breath. Now, from the other room, she could hear distant voices, their words impossible to discern over the music. She didn't feel like celebrating. She felt like hiding.

Dwyn put a dark purple cloak over her shoulders. "They're in the dining room," she told her, nodding towards the open archway.

Cora frowned. "Aren't you coming?"

"Oh!" Dwyn seemed to realise she'd forgotten to tell her an important piece of information until now. "The others and I are going to Emilia's house for the night. We usually have a free day on solstice and spend it together, but this year..." She coughed awkwardly. "I mean, you know what happened. So we're celebrating tonight instead, too. But we'll be back early tomorrow morning, so you needn't worry."

Cora didn't have time to apologise for the mess the previous day had been before Dwyn opened the front door and walked out into the night. Wind blew through Cora's hair, scattering pine needles on the floor, before she closed the door again and lingered, watching Dwyn's dark frame move towards the stables through the still-frosted windowpane.

A shadow flew into her line of vision and she gasped, before realising it was the crow, perched again on the windowsill. It fluttered against the glass, tap-tap-tapping on it insistently with its beak, and Cora sighed. She was about to open the window, but then a laugh came from the other room, and she turned around.

Right. She couldn't speak to Ives with Harry in the other room, when he could walk in at any moment. Her hand clenched the fabric of her red dress anxiously. She wasn't ready to go in. But she never would be. So she took a deep breath and stepped through the archway.

"Ninety isn't that old," Eames was saying when she walked in, his frame stark in the dark-orange light of the fireplace. He was standing near to the bookshelf stacked with his collection, the rock of the Scintilla in his hand. He played with it as he spoke, its shape changing every time he passed his thumb over it. "Still got plenty of years ahead of me."