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Draven looked as if he were trying not to smile. “No, not the Three. The most inhabited parts of Cerunnos lie closest to Numenos. Fae beliefs and culture had more of an impact here than in the rest of Eskira.”
I looked around with interest.
“I hope the healer will be open,” Draven muttered. “There.” He pointed. “The Black Bridle. It’s already open. We’ll meet there. I’ll find you in an hour or two, all right?”
I nodded, then smirked. “Perhaps I’ll buy a mask.”
“Don’t you dare,” he said shortly. “If you don a mask, they’ll think you’re participating in the festival in all ways.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And that would be bad because...?”
“Because you’ll get in over your head,” Draven said with a scowl. “Khor’a’val goes all day and all night, for one thing. We’re not staying that long. And I’m not sure you’d want to get caught up in the wild revels that go on as part of the festival.”
I shrugged coolly. “Perhaps I would.”
Draven shook his head. “Cerunnos puts a spin on things that rivals even the fae lore. I’ll see you soon.”
And with that cryptic comment I watched him disappear into the crowd.
The shops were open, though many of the shopkeepers seemed understandably distracted. Not to mention tipsy. Everyone seemed to have a cup in their hand, full of a purplish liquid. I caught the sweet scent of berries and spice.
I made my way through the center of the town, stopping at a bookstore to exchange the books I’d brought and finished for a stack of unread ones. The bookseller seemed thrilled to be making the exchange. My leather bound embossed copies from the castle library for some tattered volumes with worn and ripped pages that had probably been sitting on the shelf for years, musty and unread. But I was simply grateful to have found some books that were new to me at all.
I slipped into a clothier’s and my eyes lit up. Grimhold may have been small, but their tradespeople were exceptionally talented. I picked up a long deep green cotton gown that cinched at the waist with a braided belt and touched the colorful floral embroidery around the keyhole neckline. The opening was cut so narrowly that I thought it would hide the marks from Florian unless someone was looking very closely. The sleeves were long and billowing, coming down in diamond points. I smiled as I imagined them trailing behind me as I walked.
It was utterly unsuitable for long days of rough riding and I wanted it.
I carried the dress over to the shop counter and then, before I could change my mind, picked up a black and purple eye mask with a design of green jewels, and added it to my pile of purchases.
A few minutes later, I emerged from the store wearing my new dress and the mask, feeling light and happy, as if I were simply another citizen enjoying Khor’a’val. Whatever that was exactly. The dress hugged me perfectly. Thanks to a less impressive array of food choices as well as the noxious effects of all of the medicine I had taken, I was a little slimmer than I was when we had left Camelot and most of the tunics I’d brought now hung on my frame loosely. The dress, on the other hand, seemed like it had been made for me and fit like a glove, the braided belt clasping my waist like the hands of a lover.
With that thought, I was off to the tavern. I was determined to sample the beverage everyone seemed to be drinking. I had heard one of the shopkeepers call it “khorva.”
As I passed through town, I caught a number of admiring looks, from men and women alike. An older woman touched my arm, pointed to my hair, and told me she loved my wig. I didn’t bother correcting her. If they believed the silver strands were simply a wig, so much the better.
Perhaps it was the festival or the lingering effects of the unsettling dream I’d had, but I felt like someone else as I walked through Grimhold. Mysterious. Unrecognizable. The mask was a part of it. Like wearing a hood over my hair, but even better.
I slipped into the crowded tavern and approached the bar, ordering a mug of khorva. When it came, I gulped it down. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was. The horses were hitched outside near a water trough, but I had forgotten to eat or drink since we’d arrived.
The khorva was delicious, fruity and sweet. I felt a warmth flood through me as I drank, like nothing I’d ever felt before.
I looked around me with contentment. The tavern was full of people–talking and laughing, dancing and drinking.
A band of musicians stood on a small stage in the corner, playing an entrancing tune. The dance floor around them was full of masked revelers, rocking and twirling and swaying. I watched the dancers longingly, sipping from my mug. The more I drank, the more I wished to be amongst them.
I paid for a second mug of khorva, sipping a little slower this time. I marveled at the effect it was having upon me. I had drank wine and other liquors before. I had even tried eleusia with Merlin.
But none had ever had the slightest effect. I had never even been tipsy.
Now I felt warm and tingly, heavy and light at the same time. I slipped a hand behind me and untied my braid.
Shaking my head to let the waves of hair flow loosely around my shoulders, I walked slowly towards the dancers.
They parted for me, hands reaching out and pulling me in among them. Every face a smiling one.
The music was beautiful. I had never heard such a tune before. The notes seemed to swirl around me, like vivid whorls of paint on a canvas. I could almost see the notes hovering in the air, could almost reach out a hand and touch them. A woman gently took my hand, twirling me in a circle, and I tipped back my head, giggling.
I took her hand, twirling her in turn. I felt a man's hand slip around my waist and swivel me to him. He let go when I was dizzy and spinning, my body gently swaying, and moved onto another woman, clasping her waist and spinning her.
