As Collin approached the clearing, the usual crackle of bonfire revelry was conspicuously absent. No raucous laughter, no music bouncing off the tree trunks. Maybe yesterday’s drizzlehad dampened more than the ground, but really, it hadn’t amounted to much, and the evening was perfectly clear now. He’d missed the previous gathering; maybe that one had been thinly attended too. The novelty had worn off. The first bonfire night of the season had drawn everyone out like moths after a long winter, but now, the flame was burning low.
And indeed, the crowd was sparse. Instead of the usual ring of roaring pyres, only two fires had been lit. A cluster of musicians fiddled with half-hearted harmonies, their melodies floating thin and unfinished. Collin helped himself to a bite from the food table and drifted aimlessly through the clearing, exchanging the expected nods and breezy greetings. It took twenty minutes of polite small talk, dodging half-recognized faces and scanning the thinning crowd, before he finally spotted Aries and Hadria near the edge of the sand court, both looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.
“You finally made it. We were just about to leave,” Aries called.
Collin checked his watch. “It’s still early. Where is everyone?”
“You just missed Lekyi and Arion,” Aries said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper despite no one being close enough to overhear. “I reminded them about our meeting next week, but Arion said they're heading to White Wood. Lekyi didn’t exactly beam with enthusiasm either.”
Collin raked a hand through his hair, squinting out across the emptying field. The sand pit, usually a swirl of shouting, laughing bodies, held only two archers lobbing arrows at a target while a few spectators loitered nearby in lukewarm support. He turned back to Aries. “Did you see Nic?”
“Only for a second. Right after we got here.”
Collin stifled a groan. “I wanted to ask if he’s still planning on going to the Cove. I guess I’ll have to—”
“Wait, are you actually thinking of joining him?” Hadria cut in, brows arching. “I don’t see the appeal in roughing it out there.”
“The appeal is substantial,” Collin replied, sharper than intended. “But that’s not why. I was going to ask if he’d come with me to Nereid.”
Hadria opened her mouth for a retort, but Aries quickly jumped in, feigning cheer. “Oh! Did you hear back from Leif? Honestly, Nereid sounds like a perfect fit. Especially since you’ve already alphabetized every book in your father’s archive twice.”
Collin rolled his eyes. That wasn’t exaggeration—it was a cry for help. He knew what Aries was doing, defusing tension, trying to get a little breathing room from the constant three’s-a-crowd dynamic they’d been stuck in too long. The couple needed space, and frankly, Collin was more than happy to give it. Another season packed into a house with those two and he’d be composing bitter sonnets by lanternlight in the snow
“I got a missive a few days ago,” he said. “Leif has several openings and asked me to bring someone else. I figured I’d check with Nic before he commits to another trek through the wilderness.”
“Try him tomorrow at his place,” Hadria offered, her tone hovering just short of curt.
Collin gave her a nod and a neutral “thanks,” biting down the sarcasm trying to creep in.
His friendship with Hadria had frayed badly over the past winter—another casualty of close quarters and prolonged strain. He still loved her like a sister. Which, ironically, made her all the more exasperating. He could manage her in small, measured doses. But if he wanted to salvage what remained of their friendship—and his own mental well-being—he needed distance. Preferably the far away Nereid kind.
Aries and Hadria departed not long after, leaving Collin alone in the thinning crowd. But he wasn’t ready to retreat to solitude just yet—not after dragging himself away from that infuriating book. He might as well make the most of the evening.
A knife-throwing challenge was just getting underway, and he joined in with more enthusiasm than skill. After two quick losses and one narrow, glorious win, he bowed out before his luck turned and headed toward the music.
He stretched out on a blanket, arms folded behind his head, eyes drifting skyward. Around him, the night settled. Most of the musicians had packed up, leaving behind just two players still weaving their conversation in melody. One voice rose inquisitively, the other answered with shy laughter. Question, response, rebuttal—it was a dialogue without words, and slowly, a small group gathered to listen.
Collin applauded heartily. It was just past ten. Still too early to call it a night. When the crowd clamored for more, he joined the chorus—but the musicians only offered a pair of graceful bows and slipped away.
Now what?
He stood, gave his blanket a half-hearted shake, folded it with the precision of someone pretending not to be aimless, and slung it over his arm. One bonfire was out, the other still flickered in the cooling dark. Perhaps a second helping would compensate for the evening’s odd emotional hollowness.
But he never made it that far. A flash of movement caught his eye—Dragonfly.
He jogged over with sudden delight. “When did you get here?”
“Just now,” she said, stepping into his hug. “But it looks like I missed the fun. I was babysitting my niece and couldn’t leave until Auntie closed up shop.”
Collin tucked her arm into his. “It wasn’t exactly a raucous crowd when I got here either.”
She sighed. “That’s disappointing. I was hoping for adult conversation. Babies don’t really challenge me intellectually.”
He grinned. “Well, you’re stuck with me now. I can’t promise brilliance, but I do know at least a dozen more words than your niece—hopefully.”
While she picked over the remnants at the grill, Collin poured them both spiced cider. Then, with a flourish of mock gallantry, he gestured to the empty court. “Fancy a round of targets? I promise to let you win.”
Her laughter filled him with an ease he hadn’t felt all night. She looked more herself than he’d seen in months. Ever since her springtime move to Black Timber to work for that wealthy widow, she’d only made brief trips back to Chroma—always too busy for more than a passing hello. But now, she was home for good. Just in time for him to leave.
