“Didn’t mean to interrupt. She saw you and just—”
“It’s no trouble,” Briar assured him and got up to introduce himself. “I’m Briar.”
“Connor.”
Ciara blew past the introductions. “Look, we match!” She spun again to demonstrate. She pulled up her star-speckled hood and grabbed Briar’s hand. “Dance with me.”
“Ciara, you can’t interrupt their evening.”
“I’d be happy to dance with you,” Briar said. Quieter, he told Connor, “It’s really no trouble. Rowan and I don’t mind, right?”
Rowan shook his head. Vatii, jostled by the dancers, took up a perch on Rowan’s shoulder. Rowan only looked a little surprised, but Briar was gobsmacked.
Vatii never liked touching anyone except Briar.
The jaunty music picked up. Ciara took Briar’s hands and skipped around in a circle. She twirled and bossed him around, teaching him the “right way” to dance. In a game that made Ciara shriek with laughter, Briar would deliberately perform the steps wrong and ask her, “Like that?” It was an effective way to banish the cold, but it was not just the dancing that lit a fire in Briar’s breast. Rowan watched them. Normally, his expression fell somewhere between solemn and contented. Now, a look of genuine affection crossed his face.
“Another!” Ciara cried as the fiddler struck up a new chord, but Connor intervened.
“It’s nearly your bedtime. Leave go of Briar’s cloak,” Connor said while pulling her away.
“One more song?”
“Your mam will have my hide.”
“Where is Sorcha, anyway?” Briar wondered aloud.
He immediately regretted the question. An unspoken conversation transpired in the shuttered look on Rowan’s face and the one Connor cast his way. Ciara alone remained immune, jumping up and down to the new song.
“Sorcha’s taking the night off,” Connor said.
Briar knew a bruise when he saw one, particularly when he’d just prodded it. “Give her my love, then.”
“I will. Come, say good night, Ciara.”
She wrapped one of Briar’s legs in a hug, then Rowan’s. Connor whisked her away into the crowd, leaving Briar to wonder why a night of good food, music, and dancing was the cause for soreness. He didn’t feel comfortable asking. Rowan had divulged enough about his blackouts; it seemed invasive to push for more, especially since it involved his family.
The dancers began a different dance, spreading out in a large circle.
Rowan started to guide them away, but Briar caught his hand. “It’s your turn now.”
Disconcerted, Rowan’s gaze flicked to the people around them. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Everyone but me seems to know all the steps. Teach me.”
The dance involved everyone standing in a circle, counting steps into the center, then out again. Spinning. Breaking into pairs and turning, hand in hand. It was a fun, uncomplicated dance, mostly spent skipping and laughing as you bumped into people. Rowan looked uncomfortable when surrounded by others, not least of all because they were unnerved by his presence, shying away from him as much as the dance would allow.
Briar resented them for it, could see how the casual cruelty wounded Rowan. But then they were linked arm in arm, and the smile Rowan gave him made the anger melt away.
It was ridiculous that anyone should fear him.
The song ended. They left the dancers, though Briar didn’t unlink their arms, huddling closer for warmth as they walked. The stares of the townsfolk followed. Barring his own family, nobody seemed to know how to interact with Rowan, and Briar’s disregard for this particular tradition earned them a lot of attention.
They shared another drink. Briar wished he had opted for something hot instead of a cider, his fingers going numb around the cold cup. Theywalked the winding streets, making up the path as they went. Though he didn’t want to bring up another potentially sore subject, his curiosity couldn’t be dissuaded any longer.
“There’s something I don’t understand, Rowan. You’re the alderman. You’ve been kind to me since I arrived. You and your family. Why does everyone here…” He didn’t know how to phrase it without coming across as insulting.
“Avoid me?” Rowan supplied.
