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The Path You’re Walking
Nobody in Lotis knew how to sit in a chair. Instead, the villagers perched on upturned or fallen stumps, or blankets, or the tables themselves. They chattered and called out to one another, trading exaggerated stories and friendly jibes, and exuding a sense of camaraderie that Verve had never experienced before. Their contentment, their joy, rippled through the air like a warm summer wind. And as Verve spent time among them, an answering contentment radiated from her, like sunlight.
Strange.
But it doesn’t have to be. The observation was not hers, exactly, but for the first time in her recent memory, she wanted it to be. She was the only one here armed—well, except maybe Klaret—and even the tiny dagger tucked in her bodice seemed silly now. Her meridian senses told her no danger was near: no murderous mages—or anyone else—approached Lotis. They were all safe.
And that was the strangest feeling of all.
Verve leaned against the Willow’s fortified walls; the fireproof brushthorn paste dried solid and thankfully didn’t smell too bad. She’d destroyed a towering plate of turkey, roasted mushrooms, and various vegetables before moving on to dessert. She was considering a third helping of rice-and-honey pudding, when Ivet started to sing.
It was an old Sufani melody, at once lilting and forlorn, as many of the Sufani songs were. Grief and joy traveled side by side, after all, and knowing one allowed you to appreciate the other. Too well had the Sufani learned those lessons.
Ivet’s voice was sweet, clear, strong. After a few stanzas, Dannel joined her, adding his rich baritone. The words, which Verve had not heard since she was Kinny’s age, resonated through her body, all the way to her frayed spirit. She could not speak, could hardly breathe, while Ivet sang. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she could not move to brush them aside. All at once, she was back among her family, safely tucked within the shelter of their wagons around the perimeter, surrounded by people who loved her. There was a soft touch at her loose hair as her mother stroked the tight curls and coils. Her father sang deep as a river and strong as a current, while her brothers and sister bickered over the last bites of pudding.
A sense of loss cut Verve straight to her heart, straight to her soul, but this time, she let the feeling wash over her, through her. There was pain, yes, but there was also joy and love, which she’d closed herself off from for too long.
No one in Freehold celebrated like this, at least not in a way that Verve had ever seen or taken part in. The god Atal had only a few holidays, and those were full of dreary words like penance and obligation. Every so often, the Chosen would drink too much and spar for fun, but there was always an air of competition and fear among them. And despite Danya’s nebulous promises of some cousin she’d never heard of, Verve’s family by blood was gone.
Another singer joined Ivet and Dannel. Verve’s throat ached a little at first, but the feeling passed as her voice warmed to the melody. Ivet beamed at her, and held out her hand, and Verve found the strength to walk over, to take that hand, and keep singing.
The song swelled, then ended, but Ivet immediately began another, a happier one. Dannel joined in, then Verve, who remembered these words too. Hadiya and Klaret joined with their instruments, and the air came alive with music.
Surrounded by joy and light, Verve relaxed, and found Space-Between-Stars’s delight at this decidedly human celebration. The Fae had been to parties like this with their other hosts, but from what Verve could tell, the novelty had not worn off. With Space-Between-Stars’s enthusiasm, it was easy to let joy create joy; Verve relaxed further and allowed the strange warmth in her chest—was that happiness?—to spread to the others.
Space-Between-Stars fairly preened. Verve allowed herself a full smile as the dancing began.
Alem grabbed Kyon’s hand and the two men twirled around the fire, laughing. Alem’s face transformed when he laughed, and Verve could not look away. Nori, grinning, snatched up her mug and stood, flinging the water within upwards, then stretching out her hands. The water droplets suspended, then orbited her like floating crystals as she danced, beckoning the others to join her.
Verve nearly forgot the words to the song as she stared; she’d never seen a mage play with their powers like this. There was no tactical advantage to making water drops hover like glittering dragonflies. It was just…pretty. And as the villagers, laughing, jumped up to dance among the crystals, Verve grinned in bewildered delight.
As Verve, Ivet, and Dannel continued singing, Alem and Kyon parted ways so Kyon could grab Nori’s waist and spin her around. Alem bowed to Berel, who giggled and accepted his hand, and then they were off. More villagers joined the dance. The bonfire cast a warm glow over the villagers, but their joy—and Verve’s, too—glowed even brighter.
The song ended, but the musicians happily took up the work of revelry. Owen brought Dannel his battered lap-gitar; the instrument added a deeper resonance to Hadiya’s viol and Klaret’s mandolin. Someone handed Kinny a cluster of bells, which she shook as if her life depended on it.
Verve excused herself to gulp down a swig of cool water that had never tasted so satisfying. She indulged in a quick half of a puffer and a few sips of honeyed-liquor, then got distracted by the sweet rolls. Each bite was sugary paradise on her tongue. She moaned in pleasure before she could stop herself, but thankfully the music drowned out the inadvertent noise.
No sweets in the Fae realm? She searched Space-Between-Stars’s memories but again found no taste, nor sound, smell, or touch. But the Fae’s longing for these things burned bright and hot. Little wonder the Fae had made such a bargain with meridians. Perhaps this was why it had been downright easy to integrate her human senses with the Fae ones. Well, easy — so far. Verve was waiting for that other shoe to drop. But in the meantime, she had another sweet roll.
As she was debating one more, Alem’s presence drew closer. She glanced up to see him approaching. His painted-on whiskers were smudged, but his dark eyes were merry and something like eagerness danced through his spirit — eagerness he shared with her.
She swallowed her bite and tried not to look too hopeful. “Hungry?” she asked when he came close. “There’s enough food here to feed three Lotises.”
“Ivet always has them make too much.” He seemed to hesitate. “You… I’ve never heard you sing. You were wonderful.”
“I’ve been called many things,” Verve said, trying not to show her pleasure at his words, “But that’s a new one.”
His mouth pulled into that crooked smile, and her heart started dancing a jig. He asked, “Do you dance?”
“Depends on the partner.” Should she offer, or wait for him to? She chose the latter, in case she was wrong about his intent.
Color crept to his cheeks—he’d also indulged in some ale—and he grinned. “Can’t you sense what I’m feeling?”
The door of his heart flung open, briefly but completely. Hope glowed softly within him, a constant, along with the shimmering fire of an attraction he was still getting used to.
Verve smiled, too. “I’m not supposed to peer into other people’s minds, remember?”
He rolled his eyes but obliged her. “Vervaine, would you like to dance?”
