It seems like everyone has descended on the center of Haven. A roaring fire crackles from the rock-walled pit in the middle, and tables and chairs have been erected along the outskirts, colored fabrics threaded through them like decorations.
I smell roasting meat and sautéed vegetables; drinking chocolate and spiced wine. My mouth waters as I pass the serving areas, and I grab a plate, wanting to taste everything.
Rogue slips back into view after leaving briefly for the drinks table. "Well don't you look devastating. Can I offer you a mug of Frapa?" he asks. He holds out the mug. I take it an bring it under my nose.
"What is this?" I ask. It smells foul and sickeningly sweet all at once. I hand it back and pick up a spoonful of root vegetables.
Rogue smirks. He takes a sip, swirls it around the inside of his mouth, and swallows. "Ah, like wine for the Goddess."
"More like the Lord of Everdark," I mutter. I move over to the breads. They're still warm. I glance at Rogue, but he's too involved with his drink to watch me, so I quickly take three buttered rolls and hide them on my plate.
"Come now," Rogue says, "this is Seftis's brew. It's fermented grapefruit juice. Don't make fun." Rogue tips the mug back, and in one swallow he's finished the entire thing.
I watch him drink it out of the corner of my eye. He's standing close to me, and I remember how it felt just before we kissed. How the air between our knees seemed to vibrate.
I shake my head quickly to clear it.
His hair is standing on end like fire itself. I don't know if it naturally sweeps up that way, or if he's added a special oil to help it stay standing. I'm guessing the latter. The red of his hair matches the silk sash around his waist. He's wearing a loose cotton shirt with an immaculately tailored white coat. Gold buttons are sewn beneath the lapels with gold thread. There's even a light embroidery in gold along the hems of his sleeves. Below the sash are tight-fitting white pants tucked into high, black boots. Not a speck of dirt or dust can be seen anywhere.
"See something you like?" Rogue asks.
With a start, I realize he's caught me staring. One of the rolls tumbles from my plate and lands at his feet.
"No," I say, bending down to pick it up. "I'm still looking." I tuck the roll back between the others and turn on my heel, leaving Rogue in my proverbial dust.
From across the fire pit, I see Sailor waving at me. He's pointing madly at the chair next to him. I weave through a clustered horde of people until I reach Sailor's table. Char and Vates are already seated. Char is tearing into his meal while Vates is simply watching his. Sailor smiles at me as I approach and pulls out the chair beside him. I sit, and he pushes both me and it back against the table.
"Yae look nice," Sailor says.
"Thank you. So do you." I pull apart the roll and set a few flakes of it on my tongue. They melt like butter.
He's wearing a fitted blue shirt with what look to be pearl buttons, tucked into a pair of black pants. He's still not wearing shoes, and neither am I.
Tanymede sets her plate down across from Vates and sits.
"Everything smells delicious," I say.
"That's because I made it and not Seftis," Tanymede says.
"I heard my name," Seftis says. He walks up to the table and takes Tanymede's hand. "Do you like my food?"
Tanymede looks distinctly ruffled.
I open my mouth to come to her aide, but to my surprise, Vates beats me to it.
"She does," Vates says, his voice low and powerful. He takes Tanymede's free hand and holds it. He gives Tanymede a look so tender, I feel as if I'm intruding.
"Well, ah, that is good." Seftis clears his throat. He drops Tanymede's other hand, as if he'd forgotten he was holding onto it, and lopes quickly away.
Tanymede is staring at Vates, grinning more broadly than I've ever seen. Vates gazes back at her with those swirling eyes, but there's something about him that feels like it's slipping. Tanymede must notice it too, for she sets Vates's hand gently on the table before it can fall from hers.
She says something under her breath and pats his hand, before turning her focus back on her own plate.
I eat all three rolls in quick succession and lean back in my chair, eyeing the breads plate on the far serving table. There's a dark loaf peppered with seeds that seems to be calling my name.
"Would you play Zemet tonight?" Char asks, before I can get up from the table.
"Of course I will," I answer.
Char's eye crinkles in a smile.
"But don't expect me to go easy on you," I say.
Char rocks his shoulders in a "no". "I will battle you as an equal," he says.
I clap him on the back and stand, intending to make a quick walk toward the remaining bread.
Surma intercepts me before I can. While her black leather gloves are still firmly in place, she's now wearing a baby blue gown that fades to white as it reaches her feet. The material isn't silk, but I can't place it. It's light and airy, making it seem as if wisps of clouds hang around her ankles.
"The Scout would like to say hello," she says softly. She holds out a fluted glass filled with a bubbling amber liquid. "It's alcoholic. You don't have to drink it."
"No, that's alright. Thank you." I twirl the liquid, watching the bubbles rise to the surface and burst against the glass.
The glass itself is exquisite. The stem is encircled by an elegant, green dragon, whose head rests just below the bulb of the glass. Its tail rings the base. I haven't seen these glasses before, I would have remembered them.
"They are special. From Pruden," Surma says, noticing my focus.
"They're stunning," I say.
Surma smiles with pride. "We raise them."
It hits me that she thinks I've meant the dragons. I'm too stunned at the thought that her family raises dragons to correct her.
"To you," Surma says, raising her glass.
Embarrassed, I take a drink.
The liquor runs down my throat like a river. I feel it swish and swirl, filling every dark part of me with molten gold.
"What is this?" I ask, peering into the glass.
"Glitter Gulp," Surma says.
I've been old enough to legally drink for a year now, but I've never tasted anything like this. It's like bottled joy.
"Would you like more?" Surma asks.
"Yes."
Surma leads me to a table near the well. It's farther from the fire, and quieter. The Scouts have all changed into party attire. Some wear dresses, while others wear pants and fitted shirts.
The Scouts turn to look at me. I stand awkwardly at the head of the table, feeling incredibly small next to Surma.
"This is—"
"Thief," Rogue says, appearing on my left.
Their eyes move as one to my sling. Though my Fate is still obscured by bandages, I can feel the familiar fear that this is the end.
"Hello Thief," the Scout nearest me says kindly. His almond-shaped eyes look up at me beneath a thatch of dark hair.
"Hi," says the Scout across from him. Her ears end in pronounced points. An Elf.
One by one, the Scouts say hello. Sitting near them is the Elch woman I've seen around Rogue before, and Sani and Dem. Sani's wearing a similar shade of red as me, but in the form of a tight leather top over an exposed midriff and flowing red skirt.
"Hello," I say shyly.
"Our Thief here is going to join us tomorrow. She's lived in the prison, and so she has valuable intel," Rogue says.
I shift uneasily from foot to foot. The Scouts are all staring up at me, expectant.
"I can take things without notice," I blurt out. "I once swiped the princess's ruby necklace from her throat in broad daylight." It's the first time I've shared the story aloud with them, and it still burns with the taint of imprisonment and fear. I don't add that it's also the very action that eventually got me thrown in prison.
Rogue's small finger brushes my forearm. It tingles, and I gasp.
He moves away.
"Yes, she will be our special secret, our key to the kingdom, our reason for victory," Rogue says.
The Elch rolls her eyes. She has a long, slender face, bay coloring, and a pair of delicate antlers twirling above her head. Long lashes close over large, emerald eyes, and it's no wonder Rogue tends to gravitate toward her.
I feel an ugly dislike curling in my gut and I have to tamp it down.
"Can I offer you more?" Surma asks. She has to lean down to pluck the bottle of Glitter Gulp from the table.
"Yes, thank you," I say, and hold out my glass. Surma fills it.
"Would you like to join us?" she asks. She sweeps her hand across the table.
"Thank you," I say again, and take the first empty seat. It's in between the woman with antlers and the Elf.
I drink nearly half the glass of Glitter Gulp in one swallow, loving the way it makes me feel buoyant.
Rogue circles the table once more. He glances at me, but I don't know if he sees me. He seems deep in thought. He murmurs something to Surma, who nods, and then he leaves.
I watch him walk away. He has an attractive...walk. It's like a sashay, but not forced.
"Don't," the Elch says to me.
"Hmm?" I turn to her and take another sip of the Glitter Gulp.
"He's not worth it. He's broken more hearts than he's fixed," the Elch says. She drains her Glitter Gulp and sets down her glass. It's rimmed with a blue dragon with wings so thin I wonder how they haven't snapped off. She pulls the bottle toward her and pours out more Glitter Gulp.
The Elf leans his head toward me. "They dated," he tells me out of the side of his mouth.
"Oh." Of course they did. I take another swig of the Glitter Gulp. It chases away the jealousy, leaving behind something that flutters like butterfly wings.
The Elch holds the bottle out to me. I take it and top off my glass. While doing so, I see her sleeve fall back to the pit of her elbow, exposing her left forearm. Her Fate is written in an elegant, red, swooping script. It's Dryadali. At least, it looks like it is, based on the word I've seen painted across Vates's arm.
I finish pouring and place the bottle back on the table. The Elch is watching me.
"Lev," she says. She looks down at her arm. "Levifidus."
I don't care, I think. But instead I say, "I don't know what that means."
"Boiler," she answers.
The Scout at the far end of the table with the almond-shaped eyes poses a question to the Scout across from him. Lev turns bodily to chime in, and even the Elf next to me leans over me to add his point.
I swallow the last of my Glitter Gulp and push back from the table. There will be plenty of time to get to know everyone tomorrow.
Surma waves goodbye as I skirt the table and walk back toward Sailor and Char.
The colors seem brighter tonight. Or maybe they're freshly washed? Either way they explode with a vibrancy that almost makes me want to shield my eyes. It's mesmerizing.
"Mira," Sailor says.
"Howdy." I salute him.
He frowns. "Howdy."
"Let's go sit down." I loop my arm through Sailor's and pull him toward the table. Char and Vates are still seated. Tanymede's not there, but her plate is.
As soon as Sailor and I sit down, Tanymede returns. She's holding a green bottle close to her chest and grinning wickedly.
"I got some of Seftis's Frapa," she says in a hushed voice.
I giggle.
Tanymede pulls five clay mugs from her pockets and pours out a round of Frapa.
It smells like the Laplands after the fish harvest, but it doesn't taste half-bad. There's a strong grapefruit flavor, but it's tinged with something sweet, like honey.
It sits in the bottom of my belly like my own personal fire pit.
Vates stands.
My mouth drops open and I have to physically push it closed.
We all watch as Vates comes around to the other side of the table and holds out his hand.
"Shall we dance?" he asks Tanymede.
Tanymede's shock is plain on her face. She stands, unsure, and places her hand in Vates's. But as they walk together toward the fire, Tanymede smiles so brightly it lights up the night sky.
I smile too and lean forward, resting my elbows on the table and my chin on my fists.
"They're so cute," I say.
A band starts to play. I don't recognize the music, but I tap my foot in time with the tune.
"Zemet?" Char asks. He places his cards on the table.
"Mmm, yep," I say. I pull seven cards toward me.
James lumbers up behind me and rests his massive head on the table. He blows out through his nose, sending the rest of Char's cards scattering. I leap from the table and pick them up. For some reason they're harder to grab then they should be. Maybe the sand is sucking them up? I've heard of quicksand. It's not good.
I swing my leg around the chair and sit back down, putting the restacked deck between Char and myself.
I peer at my seven cards. I've never seen images like these before. I thought I knew the suits.
"Um, Char," I begin, then stop. I've got them upside down.
"Nevermind," I say, cackling. I flip the cards right-side up and stare at them.
"Let's play tomorrow," Char says. He pulls the cards from my hands.
"Hey," I say, "I thought you wanted to play tonight."
Char rocks his shoulders in a "no". "Tomorrow," he says. Without waiting for an answer, Char stands, replacing the cards in his pouch as he walks away.
"Humph." I turn back to Sailor. He has an odd expression on his face.
Suddenly, a song I know cuts through all the chatter. It's different because of the different instruments, but I recognize it.
"Let's dance!" I say. I grab Sailor's hand and pull him to his feet. He wobbles after me into the dance circle around the fire pit.
I don't remember the last time I danced, but I let the music guide me, twisting my body this way and that.
"Mira," Sailor says in my ear. He has to shout to be heard.
"I love this song!" I shout back.
Sailor shakes his head. "No, tha's no'—"
"Ask them to change it. Maybe they can play a song you like?" I stumble. Sailor's arm catches my fall.
"Well," I say, looking up at him, "you're just my hero, aren't you?" I bat my eyes.
Sailor pulls me back to standing. The ground feels uneven. It turns my stomach.
I shouldn't have eaten so much bread.
"Mira, I think yae mae bae drunk," Sailor says.
"Uh-uh," I say, shaking my head. Dull shards of glass rain down to the ground. They must have fallen from my hair.
"Kata." I drop to my knees and feel around for the glass pieces. I don't want anyone to step on them. Stupid stupid stupid. What a stupid idea to put glass in my hair.
"Mira, what are you doing?" Sailor asks. He's kneeling with me.
"Looking for my glasses," I say. I dig my hands deeper into the sand. It's cooler further below the surface. I would've have thought it'd be warmer because it's closer to the center of the earth.
"You don't wear glasses," Sailor says softly.
I rock back on my heels, laughing hysterically. "Not those glasses, silly! The glasses for my hair."
"Mira," Sailor says again, but stops.
A shadow falls over us. I trace its outline in the sand.
"What have we here?" It's Rogue's voice.
I twist around to face him. "Hello Your Majesty," I say.
Rogue's mouth twists.
"That's new," he says.
Sailor scrambles to his feet. He whispers something in Rogue's ear. Whatever it is makes Rogue roll his eyes.
His beautiful, emerald green eyes. His beautiful, emerald green eyes that are like chips of gemstones sitting in his eyeball sockets.
His beautiful, emerald...oh. I wonder if that's how Esmeralda got her name. Green eyeballs. The thought makes me sad.
"Alright, Thief, let's get you to bed." Rogue reaches down and pulls me upright.
I hold onto his arm. I trace the outline of it up past his Fate, to the crook of his elbow, to his collarbone, his strong jaw, and ending at eyes.
"May I have this dance?" I ask.
"What?" he says.
Thin tendrils of a ballad filter through the air. A woodwind has joined the stringed instruments.
"May I have this dance," I repeat.
Rogue's eyes bore into mine. "Alright," he says. "But just one, and then we're putting you to bed."
My arms fit just beneath his. I can't keep myself from running my fingers up and down the length of his back. I tell myself it's to feel the cotton of his shirt, but I know I'm searching his skin for something deeper.
I rest my head against his chest, and we sway. I like this. Dancing with him. He even smells nice, like cinnamon and pine. I take a deep inhale, and bury my nose into his chest, hiding my smile.
I like the feel of Rogue's arms around me. I like...him.
I sigh into Rogue and let the music carry us around the fire. I don't even bother to see if anyone else is watching. They don't matter. It's just Rogue and me, and no one else.
"Can I lift you up?" Rogue asks into the crown of my head. I feel his whole body vibrate with the words.
"Okay," I say.
Rogue takes hold of my middle and lifts me up from the ground. He brings me up so high the rest of the world falls away and it's just me and the stars and it feels like I'm flying.
"Don't let me down," I shout out into the world. I don't want this moment to ever end.
Rogue lowers me so that my nose is level with his. If I stretch my toes, I can feel the brush of the sandy floor, but Rogue not's letting me down. He's still holding me tight, keeping me swirling above him in the land of stars.
He leans in and presses his lips to my ear. I can feel his breathe with every word.
"I will help you soar," he says.
We spin until the music stops and Rogue sets me back on the ground. It's still so uneven, I don't know how Rogue can manage to stand without falling.
My stomach heaves, and I press my fist to my mouth. Bad bread. That was very bad bread I had.
Rogue drapes an arm around my shoulders and steers me away from the dancing. I squirm in his grip. I don't want to stop dancing.
"How much did you have to drink?" he asks.
"One." I only had one mug of Seftis's grapefruit stuff. I can't be drunk from that.
"And...?" Rogue asks.
"Just one," I insist.
Someone walks by holding a bubbling glass of amber liquid, and my heart sinks. I'd been so pleased with how the Glitter Gulp made me feel, I'd forgotten it was alcoholic.
"Three, maybe four," I moan.
Rogue nods. "I thought as much."
"I don't want to be drunk!" I stick my head in the crook of Rogue's neck and cry.
"It's okay," he soothes. He rubs my shoulder.
We walk back to Ezzi's tent. Once inside, Rogue lets go of me. I rub my finger under my nose.
My stomach gives a great heave, and I look quickly around for something to throw up in.
Rogue runs from the tent and returns with a massive clay pot, just in time for me to upend everything in my stomach.
I'm utterly mortified. I'm on my knees without knowing how I've gotten there, and I'm hugging the clay pot as if it could save my life. With how I'm feeling now, I wish it could.
"Please make it stop," I beg. My face is wet. Have I been crying?
I close my eyes and open them again. I'm lying back in Rogue's arms. The clay pot's gone. I hope not too far. My stomach feels like it's sitting at the base of my throat.
When did I move to Rogue's arms? Why did I move to Rogue's arms? He's cradling me like a child.
I look across the tent at the image on the other side. A teal dragon flies above an ice field. It flies. A dragon. I thought dragons were myths. They are Good Gaiain real. Surma raises them.
"Rogue, tell me about Esmeralda."
I look around to see who said that, and then realize it was me.
Oopsies.
Rogue's arm stiffens behind me. I want to move away—it's too uncomfortable—but I like the way he's stroking my hair. It's like a massage.
I wonder what massages in Vasilias are like. I'm sure there are oils and creams and men with rippling muscles tending to your every limb and whim.
I giggle. Limb and whim. It rhymes.
"She was beautiful," Rogue says. He says it like someone not used to saying the word "was".
"And she made everyone around her beautiful. She was older by a few years, but we felt connected like twins. Esmeralda." Rogue speaks the last word with such reverence, it makes me want to cry.
"She was going to be an artist," he says quietly.
"She was an artist." My voice is so brittle. My tongue feels like paper. I want water, but my arms are too heavy to reach for it. I try to think the word to Rogue. Water. Get me water.
I feel Rogue smile. It makes me smile.
"She was, wasn't she? But when I couldn't stay home anymore, she came with me. Haven was our idea, and she was always the more determined of us two." Rogue's voice is almost a whisper. It prickles my ear.
"Why couldn't you stay home?" The words stick in my mouth, making it sound like "thday home".
Water, I think, please get me water.
"My brother got sick." Rogue starts speaking, ignoring my silent plea. I turn my head to stare at the water pitcher, hoping he'll understand.
"Shadow's Pox. They wouldn't let me heal him, and I knew how to heal him. I knew how. But to them I'd cheated my way through classes, and so I wasn't 'fit to dispense medicine'. He died." Rogue pulls his hands from my arms. For a moment I think he's stopping to get water, but instead he uses his hands to wipe his eyes. "He died, and he didn't have to."
I try to tune in to what Rogue's saying, but I can't make my thoughts connect together. All I can think about is how thirsty I am...and if I can keep Seftis's dinner in my stomach.
Water, I think with every fiber of my being. I stick my neck out toward the pitcher.
The room spins suddenly, and I clamp my hands on Rogue's knees to keep myself from pitching forward with it.
His hands are back around my arms, cradling me. I don't remember him putting them there. Every motion feels like a flash with no beginning or end, just a...middle? Whatever it is that comes between beginning and end.
Rogue's chest shakes. His heart thumps in time with mine, but there's something wrong about it. He's taking these great, heaving breaths.
"Are you going to die?" I ask. I'm gripped with panic. Rogue doesn't feel well, but I don't know what to do. I'm not the healer. I can't handle this.
"No, Mira," Rogue whispers into my hair. "For better or for worse, I can't seem to die."
That calms me. "Good. Then can you get me some water?"
"Yes," Rogue says, laughing softly. "I can get you some water."
He slips out from beneath me and pours a mug of water from the pitcher. When he hands it to me, I drink it hungrily, unable to stop myself from swallowing it in a single gulp. A bit of it splashes onto the dress. I can feel the dampness seeping in. It makes me shiver.
"Here," Rogue says. He takes the mug from me and sets it back on the tray, then tucks my blanket around my neck.
I feel all cozy, and suddenly very, very sleepy.
"Mmm," I sigh. Sleep feels so close and warm, so much better than the heaving room I'm in.
Rogue places a hand on my shoulder. "Sleep now, Mira. Let's hope you don't remember this in the morning." He goes to rise from his knees, but before he does, Rogue leans forward and presses his lips against my forehead.
Everything in my head is fuzzy, but as I drift off to sleep, one thing remains clear: the feel of Rogue's lips against my skin.