“Where’s Rog?” Lira asked, trying not to breathe too deeply. The brandy’s potency was both impressive and slightly alarming.
“He and that dwarf friend of Sass’s are helping gather wood for the bonfire.” Rosie gestured vaguely toward the forest beyond the village.
Lira grinned at this. “Thrain?”
Sass’s best friend from the Ice Lands had arrived with full intention to return home, but he’d found it hard to leave the friends he’d made.
Rosie snapped her fingers. “That’s the one. Nice fellow. Holds his liquor well, which is always a good quality in my book.” Rosie re-corked the bottle, and Lira felt her eyes immediately stop watering. “I suspect they’ll be hauling timber for a while. That fussy haberdasher insists on having the biggest bonfire the village has yet seen.”
Glen chose that moment to shriek again. He’d spotted something shiny in the distance—one of Klaff and Vorto’s metal stars, by the look of it—and was stalking toward it with intense focus.
“No, Glen!” Erindil called out as he hurried after the ostrich. “You ridiculous bird! You can’t chase everything that sparkles!”
“Best be getting back to my wagon.” Rosie chuckled as she tucked the bottle of brandy under one arm. “Got a few more batches to prepare before tonight. This solstice is going to be one for the memory books.”
As Lira thought about the villagers after a few sips of Rosie’s special apple brandy, she suspected that was an understatement.
CHAPTER3
Night had fallen over Wayside, and with it came the magic Lira had been hoping for.
The luminaries glowed along the dirt road, and the silver and gold streamers caught the light from the hanging lanterns. Lute music drifted through the snow-crisped air, and a minstrel’s song warbled as villagers clapped.
The entire village had turned out for the festival, along with visitors from neighboring settlements. Halflings from Elmshire mingled with gnomes and orcs and even a few ogres. Laughter and conversation filled the air, along with boots crunching through snow and wagon wheels creaking over frozen ground.
Lira adjusted the basket hooked over her arm, the paper bags of spiced shortbread rustling as she moved through the crowd. Beside her, Sass carried an identical basket, this one filled with ginger cookies, though the dwarf’s had already been depleted by half from enthusiastic festival-goers.
“Solstice shortbread, ginger starbursts!” Sall called. “Two bits a bag.”
“I like the names you made up.” Lira exchanged a bag of shortbread for a gnome’s coins.
“Aye, proper names make them sound fancier,” Sass said, eyeing her dwindling supply. “We should have made more. At this rate, we’ll be out before the midnight candle lighting.”
“There’s more in the tavern,” Lira assured her, though privately she was thinking the same thing. She’d underestimated how many people would come, and how far the news of the solstice celebration would spread. “Vaskel’s keeping watch over the reserves.”
As if summoned by his name, a group of villagers passed them carrying steaming mugs of mulled wine, the spiced aroma wafting behind them. Vaskel was inside The Tusk & Tail, stationed behind the bar and across from the roaring fire and ladling out spiced wine and sugared nuts to anyone who ventured in from the cold. The Hellkin had volunteered for the position with surprising enthusiasm, though Lira suspected it was because he relished holding court at the bar.
“Lira! Sass!” Pip’s cheerful voice rang out, and the halfling baker appeared from the crowd, his round face flushed from hours at his ovens. “Have you tried my solstice buns yet? I used honey from Elmshire and dried cherries to recreate an old halfling recipe.”
“Not yet,” Lira admitted, “but they smell wonderful.”
Pip beamed and pressed a paper bag into her free hand. “This one’s for you and Sass. Can’t have you passing out treats all night without having some yourself.” He winked at them before disappearing back into the crowd, already calling out greetings to other villagers.
Sass peered at the brown bag. “Think we can eat and walk at the same time?”
“I think we’d better try,” Lira said, pulling out a sugar-crusted bun studded with ruby-red cherries. She handed it to Sass before grabbing the other for herself.
The bun was soft and yeasty, sugary and rich, with the tart cherries cutting the sweetness. Lira closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste and the warmth spreading through her chest that wasn’t entirely pastry related.
This was what she’d wanted. This sense of community, of celebration, of everyone coming together on the longest night to share in something hopeful.
A familiar presence at her elbow made her open her eyes. Korl stood beside her, his dark eyes reflecting the light from the luminaries.
“Having fun?” Lira asked, offering him her half-eaten bun.
He took it, his fingers brushing hers briefly. “It’s nice.”
Coming from Korl, that was high praise. Lira smiled and shifted her basket so she could loop her free arm through his. They continued walking together through the festival, handing out shortbread to anyone who wanted some and accepting compliments and thanks in return.
