Chapter 17 #2
"Thank you for wanting to see it." He stood, offering his hand. "Come on. There's still more of the court to explore, and Marta threatened to hunt me down if I didn't bring you for lunch."
She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. The touch lingered a moment longer than necessary before they both let go.
Walking back down the path, she memorized everything, the dappled sunlight through leaves, the distant sound of the river, and the way Arion moved through his territory with quiet confidence. In the morning she'd return to calculated cruelty and gilded cages.
For now, she had this and for that she was content.
The afternoon passed in a blur of small wonders: lunch with Marta fussing over her, children explaining their games, corridors filled with preparation for the evening's festivities. But as the sun began its descent, Arion walked her back to her room.
"The festival starts at sunset," he said. "I'll come find you?"
"I'd like that."
When she opened her door, she found gowns, a rainbow of silk and gossamer, laid across her bed. Her fingers traced over them, pausing at a deep red that made her stomach turn. Even here, even in kindness, red would always be Eliam's color now.
She pushed it aside.
Her hands drifted, finally settling on a gown that seemed to capture the transition between day and night.
The bodice was a deep midnight blue, adorned with silver embroidery that traced constellations across the fitted fabric. The bodice gradually faded through purple to rose pink at the sleeves and hem, as if dawn was breaking across the fabric itself.
Stars were scattered throughout, some embroidered, some appearing to be woven into the very material, catching light that didn't exist. The underskirt remained that deep celestial blue, visible through the gossamer pink overlay when she moved.
She dressed carefully, marveling at how the fabric seemed to shift between colors depending on the angle: midnight, to rose, to something in between that had no name.
The long sleeves gathered at her wrists, adorned by silver cuffs, the graceful drape of the fabric hiding the marks on her arms while making her feel elegant rather than hidden.
Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Not the terrified human from the motel, not Eliam's decorated possession, but something else, someone who belonged at celebrations under stars.
A knock came just as she finished adjusting the flowing skirts.
"Come in," she called.
Arion entered and stopped mid-step. His eyes swept over her and something flickered across his face, surprise followed by something warmer that made her pulse quicken.
"You look beautiful," he said simply.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Beautiful. Not appropriate, not suitable, not acceptable. Just beautiful. The compliment sat strangely in her chest, too sincere to deflect, too genuine to dismiss. She didn't know what to do with kindness that asked for nothing in return.
"Thank you," she managed, then noticed his own attire.
He wore deep silver tonight, the fabric catching light like moonlight on water.
A simple but elegant tunic over fitted dark pants, nothing ostentatious but somehow perfect for him.
The color made his hair seem to glow. "You look. .. you clean up well yourself."
His smile widened at her fumbled compliment. "Shall we? The festival's already starting."
She took his offered arm, hyperaware of the warmth of him through the fabric. The mark flared, not painful, just a warmth, a reminder, and Briar heard Eliam’s voice in the back of her mind. Savor each moment, you'll need those memories later if you’re going to survive.
Her steps faltered slightly.
"Are you alright?" Arion paused, studying her face with those green eyes that were so different from Eliam's yet somehow familiar.
"I'm fine." She forced a smile, pushing away the phantom voice. "Just nervous. I've never been to anything like this."
He squeezed her arm gently. "If it becomes too much, we can leave anytime. There's no obligation to stay."
No obligation. No commands. Just choice. The contrast made her throat tight with emotion she couldn't afford to feel.
"Thank you," she said. "But I want to see it. All of it."
While I still can, she didn't add.
Music drifted through the halls as they walked, growing louder with each turn. Her stomach fluttered with unexpected nervousness. What if she didn't belong here either? What if kindness was just another cage with prettier bars?
The thought vanished the moment they entered the courtyard.
Lanterns hung from every tree, casting warm light that made the whole space glow.
Tables groaned under the weight of food, real food that looked and smelled exactly as it should.
Musicians played on a raised platform, their music wild and joyful, nothing like the calculated performances in Eliam's hall.
And everywhere, fae danced with abandon, laughter mixing with the music.
No one stared at her with hunger or calculation. No one watched for mistakes to exploit. They were just... celebrating.
"You came!" A young fae with antlers grabbed her hands before she could respond. "The Harvest Festival! Three days of dancing before winter arrives!"
"Three days?" The irony cut deep.
"It's the best celebration of the year! Come on, they're starting the circle dances!"
The fae pulled her along before she could protest. Arion's laugh followed them, warm and genuine.
The dancing was chaos, wonderful, liberating chaos.
No prescribed steps, no watching eyes waiting for mistakes.
Partners switched with dizzying speed, and she found herself passed from hand to hand, spinning until the stars on her dress blurred with the lantern light.
When she stumbled, someone steadied her with a laugh.
When she stepped on toes, her partner just adjusted and kept moving.
Joy bubbled up in her chest, unexpected and almost painful in its intensity. When had she last felt this? This freedom? This simple happiness?
"May I cut in?"
Arion appeared beside her current partner, who yielded with a knowing grin. His hand found hers, warm and steady, and suddenly the chaotic reel shifted into something slower. Around them, couples paired off for a more intimate dance.
"Left foot first," he murmured. "Follow my lead."
She did, finding it surprisingly natural.
He guided her through the unfamiliar steps with patience, his hand light at her waist. Other dancers swirled past in rivers of color, but gradually the world narrowed to just this: his hand in hers, the music washing over them, the strange sense of rightness she couldn't name.
"Thank you, again, Arion," she said quietly. "For all of this. For showing me kindness when you had no reason to."
"You don't need to thank me for basic decency."
"In my experience, I do."
Something shifted in his expression, understanding mixed with anger that wasn't directed at her. His hand tightened slightly on hers.
The song ended, but they didn't immediately separate. They stood there in the middle of the celebration, caught in a moment that felt borrowed from someone else's life.
"Come," he said finally, voice rougher than before. "You should eat something."
The festival food was pure joy, roasted chestnuts smooth and buttery, cider that warmed from within, tiny cakes decorated with candied flowers that dissolved sweetly on her tongue. No tests. No tricks. Just food meant to be enjoyed.
"Ring toss!" someone called. "Who's brave enough to challenge the champion?"
The champion turned out to be Sian, who grinned wickedly as she landed ring after ring on increasingly impossible targets.
A small crowd had gathered, their cheers punctuated by groans of disbelief each time another wooden ring settled perfectly over a bottle neck.
The bottles were arranged in a chaotic scatter across the booth's counter, some close, some ridiculously far, and Sian never seemed to look at them for more than a heartbeat before releasing her throw.
Briar watched the water sprite's wrist flick, casual and confident, sending another ring sailing through the air thick with woodsmoke and the yeasty scent of festival beer. It wobbled, caught an invisible eddy, and dropped true.
"It's all about reading the currents," Sian explained when Briar tried and failed spectacularly, her ring clattering against the side of a bottle before bouncing away.
"Even air has currents, if you know how to see them.
" She plucked another ring from the pile and pressed it into Briar's hand, her fingers cool to the touch.
"Though in your case, I think the problem is that you're aiming. "
Briar turned the smooth wooden ring over in her palm, still warm from Sian's touch. "How do I not aim?"
"Trust your instincts instead of your eyes. But honestly, you're hopeless at this."
Briar laughed at the cheerful insult. Tomorrow felt far away, and she let herself sink into the illusion that this could last.
The moon traced its path overhead, dipping low as the festival continued around them.
Briar found herself drawn to a corner where someone had set up what looked like floating lanterns—but these were made of something gossamer and alive, pulsing with gentle bioluminescence.
A fae woman was showing children how to whisper wishes into them before releasing them to drift upward, joining dozens of others that bobbed and swayed above the festival like earthbound stars.
"Go on," the woman said, noticing Briar's fascination. She pressed one of the delicate structures into Briar's hands. It felt like holding captured moonlight, cool and trembling against her palms.
Briar leaned close, her heart fluttering anxiously. What should she wish for? What could she dare dream? “Let them be happy,” she murmured at last. “Let Allegra grow up strong and healthy and for mom find peace.”
The lantern shivered, its glow brightening from blue to gold, and when she opened her hands it rose slowly, wobbling slightly before finding its place among the others.
She watched it climb, throat tight, and continued to watch long after it had floated out of sight.
Eventually she sought out a bench near one of the bonfires.
"Tired already?" Arion appeared with two cups of hot cocoa, offering her one as he sat beside her.
"A bit," she admitted, taking the warm cup gratefully. "But it's a good kind of tired."
Warmth spread through her as she sipped, not just from the cocoa but from this moment. Sitting beside someone who expected nothing from her, watching joy that didn't come at anyone's expense, wearing a dress she'd chosen herself.
The mark pulsed gently on her arm. Not a warning this time, just a presence. Like it was waiting.
"One more dance?" Arion asked as the musicians began something slower. "Dawn's not far off."
She knew she should say no, should go to her room and prepare for what morning would bring.
Instead, she set down her cup and took his hand.
This dance was different from the earlier ones. The other couples gave them space, creating a pocket of privacy in the midst of celebration. His hand was steady at her waist, hers rested on his shoulder, and they moved together with an ease that felt practiced despite being new.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For not being able to help you more."
"Don't apologize for what you can't control. Whatever happens, I… I made a choice to save Allegra and I won’t ever regret that."
"I'll keep looking," he said, his voice fierce with quiet determination. "I'll keep searching for answers."
Her heart twisted in her chest, heavy with guilt about the leaf.
He’d done so much to help her that not telling him felt wrong, dishonest somehow.
But her fear for his safety, for the safety of those in his care weighed far heavier.
And beneath it all was that warm pulse that now seemed to reach for him.
"Arion..."
"I know." His hand tightened slightly on hers. "I know you have to go back. I know the law binds us all. But that doesn't mean I will stop caring about what happens to you."
The words hung between them, too heavy for what they were supposed to be to each other: mere strangers brought together by circumstance, nothing more.
The song swirled around them as the celebration continued, but they'd gone still in the center of it all.
"I wish..." he started.
"Don't." She pressed her fingers to his lips before she could think better of it. "Wishes are dangerous things in your world."
He caught her hand, holding it against his mouth. His eyes never left hers as he pressed a deliberate kiss to her palm. The warmth in her chest flared brighter, reaching.
"Then I won't wish," he said, the soft brush of his lips against her skin sending an unexpected flutter through her chest. "I'll just..."
Arion released her fingers, reaching out to cradle her face between his hands with infinite gentleness, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. Time seemed to slow, giving her endless moments to pull away, to be sensible, to remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.
But tomorrow would hurt regardless. Tonight, she wanted something that was hers to choose.
She rose up on her toes and met him halfway.
The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if both were afraid the other might disappear.
Then her arms wound around his neck and he pulled her closer, and gentleness gave way to something desperate.
He tasted of cider and starlight, of safety she couldn't keep.
She kissed him back with everything she couldn't say—gratitude, regret, and something dangerously close to longing.
And on the edges, something darker, something familiar.
The mark erupted in agony.
Not the usual burning, but rage, pure, searing fury that raced up her arm and across her chest. She cried out against Arion's mouth, and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.
The music stopped.
The temperature plummeted so fast frost spread across the ground in spirals. Lanterns cracked. Decorations withered to ash. The warmth in her chest turned to ice.
"He's coming," someone whispered.
Shadows between the trees thickened, reached, consumed. And through it all, the mark pulled her with vicious insistence.
A figure stepped from the darkness.
Eliam stood at the courtyard's edge, beautiful and terrible in his fury. Every line of him radiated controlled violence barely leashed.
"The three nights are over," he said, voice soft in a way that made Briar’s entire body tremble. "Time's up."