COF 2: The Soul Spells

5 | Alkara (I)

2412, Strilaxis 16, Kindreth

Xanthy knew better than to say anything until she was alone with June again.

The things he said to her that night two days ago still rang in her head like an incessant Festival drum, repeating over and over until Xanthy was sure she'd go insane.

It's not that she didn't like June. She'd gone farther from that. True, when they first met, he destroyed her house, dragged her in a magical race across the Disfavored region, and called her a hypocrite (although, it was admittedly Xanthy's fault), but after all that happened in the Palace back in Cardina, and after they shared a near-doom event in the tunnels, shouldn't Xanthy be treating him differently than when they first met?

So how come she was having these reservations now?

Xanthy chewed on her lip as they had gone through Elshire after traversing Diven. They were in Alkara now. She barely noticed how the road had sloped downward to a single, cobbled road that sped straight into a walled fortress in the middle of a thick forest. Yesterday, Cyrdel's information about the roads they were going on fluttered out of Xanthy's ears. He said something about a Glass Route? What in Umazure was a Grove Path?

Only one line of thought mattered for the last two days: what would Xanthy do with what June told her that night in Diven?

Xanthy sighed, smiling wanly at a brownie soldier offering her a flower with radial, bright yellow petals. Its small, dark brown disc in the middle seemed to be taunting her and her hesitation. What was June even thinking of saying something like that out of the blue? What had prompted it? She wetted her lips, trying to drive off the chaps that arose from the Elshire humidity. How would she even respond to that?

I like you, Xanthy.

The memory flashed in her mind so vividly that she barely noticed Nyxis pluck the flower from her grasp. "Uvleaf flowers are good for intestinal clogs," the human had said but even that faded in Xanthy's ears as the single line tore once more into her thoughts.

Xanthy glanced past the horde of singing and dancing soldiers dressed in russet, lightweight armor towards Ravalee and Cyrdel who waved and dipped their heads on the soldiers flitting around them. Her eyes zeroed in on the boy's hand twined around her half's fingers like they belonged there.

Like. It was such a vague word that left Xanthy's mind grasping for what it could possibly mean. Was it similar to love? What even was love?

Xanthy, from all her time with the Disfavoreds, had never stood this close to that word. In fact, the only time she even heard the word like was when she was selling her ajilte produce. She doubted what June meant to say that night was because he wanted to plant seeds.

Elshire bore down on her like a lively cloud compared to the doom curtain back in Carleon. For once, Xanthy was thankful for that. From the corner of her eye, Nyxis was seen haggling a soldier for a yard of dust fleece in exchange for two nosa sigra, as the fairies called their different types of versallis. Xanthy watched as he dropped two, square, copper coins into the soldier's hand which made a shrill, tinkling sound that vanished as quickly as it came.