A woman sauntered over to the food. “Been out for a tumble in the woods?” she teased, taking in the sorry state of our clothing, her voice wavering somewhere between amusement and gentle rebuke. I flushed crimson at her implication, smoothing out my rumpled gown. “There’s still time to get in another dance before the sun fully rises,” she advised with an encouraging smile.
She half turned to leave, plate of food in hand. “The screaming—it’s an homage to the banshee warriors?” I asked hastily. She turned back toward us. “First time visiting? It’s our custom. Today is the day when Vefrila first thought to pray over a relic of her female ancestor for help, becoming the earliest known banshee warrior. Unlike Vefrila, we don’t scream to vanquish our foes. We scream to vanquish something in our lives. Something we need to release, or let die, so to speak.”Having finished her explanation, the woman walked away, quickly disappearing back into the crowd.
“Should we stay awhile?” I asked Corvin, inching closer to the table.
“We might as well,” he replied, grabbing a plate. “You’re wearing a white dress after all.” His eyes lingered on my ill-treated gown, smudged with dirt. “More or less.”
I scowled at him. “You try keeping a white dress clean.”
A cheeky grin lit up his face. “Fair enough. If only we hadn’t taken that tumble in the woods…”
I laughed, despite myself. “Iwishthat’s all we’d done.”
Corvin’s grin grew wider. “Youwishwe’d taken a tumble in the woods?” His tone was teasing, though I thought I detected a hint of genuine curiosity lacing his words.
But I simply said, “You know what I meant,” sidestepping the unspoken question between us.
“Do I?” he countered. I saved myself from answering by preparing a plate of food. There was no point contemplating tumbling in the woods with Corvin when it was possible his debt was fulfilled now, when it was possible I might not see him again after we returned home.
“Where should we sit?” Corvin asked, pausing at the edge of the crowd.
“Let’s watch the dancing,” I responded, heading toward a small hill overlooking the festival.
We took a seat next to one another, close enough that our shoulders brushed. Nobody paid us much mind. Apparently, we didn’t look all that out of place. It was fortunate the festival drew visitors from out of town. Doubly fortunate my white gown fit the dress code.
Companionably, Corvin and I sat together, eating our fill and gazing out over the dancing. At first, I flinched at every scream. It didn’t take long, however, for my body to respond to thehypnotic thudding of the drums. For it to crave the sway of the beat. For the screaming to seem almost natural. For it to stir something within me—calling me toward the same release.
“What are you thinking about?” Corvin asked, setting aside his finished plate.
I kept my gaze fixed on the dancers, staring straight ahead. “I’m wondering whatyouwould scream about. If there’s anything that you…that you wish you could give up, like that woman mentioned. At least—” I cleared my throat, swallowing past the lump forming there, trying to keep my voice light. “At least you’ve fulfilled your debt to me now. No need to worry aboutthatanymore. Or visiting my island again…”
Corvin stiffened, and I became aware of his eyes on me. “I can still feel the debt between us,” he whispered. “I don’t know what it’s going to take.” He nudged me gently with his shoulder. “But you’re not rid of me yet. Partners in crime, remember? Unless you’d rather not see me again? You might be able to release the debt if that’s what you wanted. You probably wouldn’t even have to scream about it.” Was it wishful thinking, or did he sound miserable too? And why hadn’t he mentioned that before, that I might be able to release him from its payment?
I tore my gaze away from the dance, turning more fully toward Corvin. “No!” I cringed, the word coming out more forcefully than I’d intended. “No, that’s not what I want. The thought just crossed my mind that our…relationship…will inevitably come to an end. That you’ll leave for good once you’ve fulfilled your debt to me.” The words came spilling out in a rush.There.I’d said it.
Corvin leaned forward, so close I could feel his breath against my lips. “Elvira, I promise not to disappear on you once this debt is fulfilled. That was never my intention. Not since I first saw you in the mirror.”
I stared at him, not realizing how much I needed to hear those words until he’d spoken them.He didn’t intend to vanish from my life.“You think we could truly be friends then? Even when it’s over?”
Corvin stared at me intently. “I think we could be many things.” My heart raced in my chest. Was it normal? To look at a friend and feel like you couldn’t breathe?
“I still don’t know who you are,” I reminded him—a soft challenge.
He leaned back a fraction, and I had to stop myself from tilting forward in response, instinctively drawn to his warmth. Idly, Corvin picked at a feather on his cloak. He was thinking. “You’re right—I haven’t been able to tell you much about myself. But I’ve never lied to you. What would you want to know? Is there something I could tell you that would convince you to trust me?”
“Tell me something honest about yourself. Tell me for real—what would you scream about, given the chance?”
He looked at me sideways. “I’m beginning to feel I should give up dinner parties. I don’t know that I feel much of a need toscreamabout it though.” His comment drew a short laugh and a smile from me, but I kept my gaze locked onto his—I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy. “What else?” I pressed. “There has to besomethingyou’d be better off without. Maybe a bad habit? When you think about the future, what would you like to be different?”
“I don’t spend much time thinking about the future; I’m too afraid of what it holds.”
“Then let’s release your fear,” I said on a sharp intake of breath. “Leave it behind, right here in this meadow. If you have secrets, then let me keep one for you. Why are you afraid of the future? You want me to trust you? Trust me. I promise I won’t let you down.”
Corvin was silent for a moment, regarding me. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I’m afraid I will wreck what my parents spent their lifetime building. That when it matters, I won’t measure up. I’m afraid my father will die before I’m ready to lead. That without him, it will all be meaningless anyway. Most of all, I’m afraid that everything is about to change. And that I might be a bad person because I secretly wish that it wouldn’t.” He let out a heavy sigh like he’d temporarily forgotten to breathe. “How was that?”
I reached for Corvin’s hand, holding it soothingly in mine. “I don’t know what you’re facing, but I do know I’ve trusted you with my life several times now. You can do it. Whatever it is. I think that when it matters, you’ll find you measure up just fine.”
“You’re next,” he whispered, squeezing my hand in return.
