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So I could hear Owein over the crowd, he whispered in my ear at every turn. I didn’t balk at his closeness. The festival was tight quarters everywhere. It’s not as though I hadn’t been touched by a man before either, but in this crowd, who could tell one tender, guiding touch from a passerby’s brush?
I could.
Aneirin might not have been my sweetheart, but growing up together as friends, we’d touched plenty.
I tried not to think of how Aneirin tugged my hands to drag me on some adventure or how he tortured Catrin and me by tickling us under the willow trees until we cried. Or even how we wrestled together when we played skip-the-dragon-scale in the creek.
My memories sounded silly.
We were children. And played at children’s games. We’d matured since then, and youthful games slowly vanished to be replaced by mooning glances and the yearning to find a soul mate. Aneirin’s rough-and-tumble touches stopped. He grew too nervous, afraid he’d lead me on. How had I been so blind? Even though I’d been in the mortal world for a week, I missed him.
And his idiotic, furrowed brows.
“I must be terribly boring because you’re contemplating something deeper than my blue eyes.”
We had paused beside a stall, and Owein faced me. Apparently I was staring blankly at his face. I had no idea what he’d said.
“I’m sorry. Yes. Uh, thinking about home.”
Owein clasped my hand between his hands. “And someone. I know that face. Arnall might not have the longest, most meaningful relationships, but he’s had his heart broken. I’ve seen that face one too many times.” Owein chuckled.
“Oh. I dropped my wall.” I squirmed in his grasp, feeling foolish. I couldn’t believe it. A mortal read me. And he wasn’t even an emrys with the ability to see into a soul. He’d read the expression on my face!
Owein’s hand tightened. “Stop weaseling out of my grip. I’m not trying to court you. I want to be your friend. I understand that your heart might be broken. It’s all right. I’m not looking for attachment.”
That was a relief. “I appreciate your friendship. Thanks.”
“You are giving me quite the thrill. Immortal beauty from another world and all. I do believe I’m the envy of every man here.”
“Oh!” I smacked his shoulder.
Owein laughed, but the twinkle in his eye died when a scream rent the air.
Something was wrong. Upset, fear, and horror ballooned through the crowd. I was sure the alarm was more from the scream than the actual reality of what was happening. Once a siren went off, everyone panicked.
The festival patrons swelled against Owein and me. Most people headed toward the scream, which had morphed into a mournful howl.
Someone was in a lot of pain.
And everyone wanted to know why.
The crowd clustered as people surged forward to the edge of the festival where the tournaments were held. I pushed my way through.
“Niawen,” Owein said. “We should stay back.”
“I can help,” I called over my shoulder. “If someone is in as much agony as his wail proclaims, he’ll need me.”
“How—?”
“Move!” I shouted at those standing in front of me. They had come to a standstill and pressed up on tiptoes, craning their necks.
Startled, several people moved out of the way so I could view the catastrophe.
What I presumed had been a dais for judges lay crumbled as a pile of metal and wood. The tournaments had not yet begun, but nonetheless, a body stuck out from the wreckage.
“The bricklayer,” someone said.
And another. “The scaffolding just collapsed over him.”
