“Then what’s the harm?”
He snorted. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, and…? Winter Feast isn’t supposed to be a solemn event. It’s a celebration of light in the darkness. Of friends and family. Laughing together at the lonely dark. I think it’s very appropriate.”
He sighed again, though she suspected his heart wasn’t in it. So long as no one asked him to wear crocheted eyes, she doubted he’d object.
“It’s going to be fun,” Terlu said.
He snorted, but then he smiled and held out the half-finished icing rose. “Taste?”
“You’re supposed to be making them for the feast. I can’t—”
He popped it in her mouth.
It melted and flavor burst from it. She’d expected pure sugar, but what she tasted was strawberries and vanilla—it was a bite of spring. “Oh! How did you do that?”
“Each color rose is going to have a different flavor.”
“You’re brilliant.”
He blushed. “I’m glad you like it. I’m going to put them all over the sugar glass, to symbolize the cracks that the plants healed.”
“Sounds beautiful.”
Another snort. “Prettier than crocheted eyes.”
Leaning forward, Terlu kissed his cheek. She left traces of sugar on his skin. “You just want something to grumble about. Admit it: you like having your sister home.”
“It’s fine,” he said.
She grinned—that was basically a full admission that she was right. “I’ll be back after I check on the others. Rijes is attempting to cook for the first time, and I promised I’d drop by to make sure she didn’t accidentally burn down the tower. Apparently, that’s a concern?” She couldn’t imagine the head librarian wasn’t brilliant at everything.
Pulling on her coat, Terlu opened the door.
“Terlu?”
She glanced back.
“For the Summer Feast, we’ll invite your family—your parents, your sister, your new niece. And your plant friend as well, if you want.”
That was an enormous offer from Yarrow: More people on his island? Especially strangers to him? He even sounded as if he meant it. She accepted it for the gift that it was. “I’d like that.”
With a great smile on her face, she headed out into the winter day, wearing her coat, boots, and a bright red scarf. Everyone was awake, despite the early hour, bustling between the cottages and the greenhouse. She waved to everyone she saw, and they waved back.
She made her way down the road, through the snow, to Laiken’s tower. Knocking, she waited for the door to open. Marin answered it, and smoke billowed out.
Terlu’s eyes watered, and she took a step backward. She didn’t see any flames inside, which made her optimistic that this was a past disaster, not a currently in-progress one. “Everyone okay?”
“So, we will not be bringing any food to the feast today,” Marin said.
“I have decided,” Rijes said from within, “that my contributionto the solstice celebration will be stories. I know many from history that I am certain no one on Belde has heard.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Terlu said. “Everyone loves stories.” Squinting her eyes and wrinkling her nose, she came inside and opened the windows to air out the smoke. A pile of charred… okay, she wasn’t quite sure what they were originally, but it wasn’t food anymore. The debris sat shriveled and sad in a skillet, while the workroom reeked of burnt onion. She didn’t ask. She supposed even head librarians had limitations. “We’ll start at noon, yes?”
“Noon sounds perfect.”
Leaving them to their cooking disaster, Terlu headed out. On her way, she stopped by each of the finished (and near-finished) cottages and confirmed that everyone knew the feast would begin at noon. As an added bonus, she got to sample many of the dishes—everyone wanted her to taste-test—and encountered no more charred debris. Yarrow had, apparently, come by his cooking talent naturally. It was all going to be delicious.
