I shrug. “Sure.”
Five minutes later, Morgan and I are peeling off our coats in a booth at Eclipse Coffee Lab while Lanz waits in line toorder. And I have to say, as suffocating as the whole constant-bodyguard thing is, it’s nice to have someone who can provide table service.
Or defend me from the guy who’s out to get me.
Who almostdidget me.
“…and then there’sthis,” Morgan says, sliding out a long, thin taper that’s an almost pearlescent white, save a line of evenly-spaced green dashes marching down one side.
I frown, willing myself to concentrate on shopping instead of anything else. “Don’t you have a lot of candles already?”
“Well, yeah. But not the right ones.” Gingerly, Morgan sets the giant candle back in the bag. “Different candles have different energy. You can’t just swap them around and get the same results. It’d be like putting paprika in your banana bread instead of cinnamon, you know? You could still complete the recipe, technically, but it’d defeat the purpose of what banana bread is supposed to be.”
Weirdly, that makes sense—especially considering Morgan’s. “So what are all these for?”
“Next week,” Morgan says. “It’sImbolc. Or, as the rest of you would have it, Candlemas,” she adds, at my confused expression. “February second?”
I shake my head.
“I’ve…heard of it,” I venture. And I think I have. One of those Christian holidays like Epiphany or Pentecost that was definitely covered in CCD and I retained just enough about to pass the quiz and then immediately forget.
“Oh. Well, it’s adealaround here,” Morgan says briskly. “At Caliburn, I mean. There’s fencing invitational and a formal hall and everything.” Her forehead wrinkles. “I’m surprised no one’s mentioned it to you.”
My mind flashes to Emrys’s classroom, my first day back with Kingston.
I won’t be in class for Candlemas week.
“It’s come up,” I say shortly. “I just didn’t know it was all that.”
“Ah,” she says. “Well, here it certainly is. You know the saying:if Candlemas day be fair and bright, winter shall have another flight.”
I glance out the shop window at the thick white globs of snow flying almost sideways. “No thanks.”
“Exactly,” Morgan says. “So I’m taking the opportunity to get some craft practice in and try a proper Imbolc ritual in. Hence”—she spreads her arm over all her shopping loot—“the candles.”
Lanz arrives back bearing two cups, looking a little bewildered.
“Okay, so…peppermint chai?”
Morgan lifts a manicured hand and accepts her cup.
“Which means?—”
“Coffee’s mine.” I’m careful not to let our fingers touch as I take my drink from him. Meanwhile, Morgan finishes her first sip and fixes Lanz with a look.
“None of you told Gwenna about Candlemas?”
Lanz’s expression is blank. “We…” He looks at me.
“I’m not hanging out with them,” I point out. “It’s not like we’re sitting around and shooting the breeze.”
“Okay, okay,” Morgan says, setting down her chai. “So, fine. There’s a Candlemas tournament where you guys face down another school?—”
“Two other schools,” Lanz interjects. “Mountstuart and Villa Loyola. Over two days.”
“Whatever.” Morgan waves a hand. “And then there’s the Candlemas Ball. Like a formal hall, but bigger. Dinner, dancing. The other schools come too.”
At that, I make a face. “Have fun,” I murmur.
