Chapter 34 The Hill Festival
The Hill Festival
The festival was beautiful chaos.
We went together—me, Ary, Talon, Ivo, and a couple of other members of the crew whose names I immediately forgot.
The moment we exited the Hill—via an entirely different route than the one we’d come by—it was like we’d stepped into another world, one where the air was music and colors rode on the breeze.
The streets were even more crowded than they’d been this morning, and even though it should have been claustrophobic, I instead found myself caught up in the energy of it all, floating along through the river of people, trying to take it all in.
Ary had hooked her arm through mine, which gave me an anchor point. She was cheerfully babbling as we moved through the crowd, pointing out things of interest.
“That shop over there has such beautiful scarves,” she said. “I’ve been saving up for one, but then I always end up buying more knives instead. Oh—that man in front of the butcher’s shop sells the best hand pies. We should get one on our way back.”
Honestly, I was happy to go wherever she led me. It sounded like she had great taste in fun.
“And we’ll need to go dancing, of course.” She pointed upward, and I followed the line of her finger, looking up at the Hill. Up on top, dancers were twirling and spinning on the grass, moving to music we couldn’t hear from here.
“And don’t forget about the pageant,” Talon said, leaning toward us. Several of his birds had followed us out of the hideaway, and now they were swooping overhead, enjoying the freedom of the twilight.
“Yes, the pageant’s one of my favorite parts,” Ary said, squeezing my arm.
I was about to ask what exactly this pageant entailed, but Talon cut me off with a, “First round’s on me!”
That phrase had exactly the same reaction here as it did back in my world, and the crew around us cheered and followed their leader over to a long, open tent with an entire row of casks underneath.
“Nectar all around?” Talon asked over his shoulder, skillfully threading his way through the crowd to where a couple of barrel-chested men were taking orders.
“Uh,” I said as Ary and I followed in his wake.
When she gave me a look, I explained, “I don’t really like Nectar.
” That was a lie—I actually still dreamed about its sweet, tart flavor, but I was also a little afraid to drink it again, considering the unbearable pain I’d experienced the last time I came in close contact with it.
Sure, the pearls around my wrist would probably protect me this time—I’d certainly had no issues with any of the other food or drink I’d tasted since setting foot in this place—but I was still a little gun-shy.
“Get Goldie some cider instead,” Ary called up to Talon, who raised a hand in acknowledgment before leaning forward to yell his order above the noise of the crowd.
And before I knew it, I had a flagon of golden liquid in my hands.
I lifted it to my lips, taking a tentative sip. It was crisp and delicious, tasting of apples and spices.
Beside me, Ary was already halfway done with her cup of Nectar, and she only paused to grin at me.
Talon had downed his in a single long swig, and now he was laughing and moving his feet to the fiddle music floating over from the next block.
Even Ivo, who’d I’d only ever seen looking grumpy and sour, appeared to be having the time of his life—though maybe that was because Octavian was gone and he had Talon all to himself.
He joined Talon in his dance—though he clearly had no sense of rhythm—and stole gulps of his drink every few strains.
It was infectious. In no time at all, my cider had disappeared, and soon Ary and I were dancing, too, swinging each other around and laughing every time we bumped into someone from the surrounding crowd.
“Onward!” Talon announced, throwing his hand in the air. Our little group gave a cheer and followed him down the street, still dancing.
On the next block Ivo bought everyone skewers of smoked meat, which was so tender it melted on my tongue like butter.
And then several tents past that Ary bought a big bag of warm, spiced nuts to share.
As we moved through the town, I was repeatedly handed new things to try—crunchy honey candy, or crispy pig skin, or fresh bread studded with herbs and slathered with soft cheese. Every bite was better than the last.
The music carried us along, and at any given moment one or more of us was likely to break into dance, grabbing the closest person nearby and swinging them around with us.
It didn’t matter that I’d only just met these people—tonight, they’d fully accepted me as one of them.
They were always quick to grab my hand for a spin, or offer me the first taste of our latest treat, or point out the marvels of the festival around us.
And that included Ivo, who seemed to forgive me for my associations with his perceived rival.
He was a man of few words—even now, when he was in a good mood—but when we heard the parade approaching, he tapped me and indicated that I should climb up on his shoulders.
I readily agreed. And Talon lifted up Ary beside me.
The drums announced the parade long before it turned onto the street where we stood—there were dozens of them, beating a rhythm that echoed through the town.
Then the horns rose over them, and by the time the procession was close enough to see, the music was loud enough to drown out the cheers and shouts of the crowd.
I’d been to parades back home, of course.
But this was different. Colorful sparks of light glittered through the air, shimmering over floats that featured tumbling acrobats and fire eaters that blew clouds of orange flame into the evening sky.
Puppets so large it took half a dozen people to man them chased women in gowns that appeared to be made of nothing but leaves and petals.
Horses with silver manes pulled carriages with intricate scenes painted on their sides—these seemed to inspire the loudest cheers.
“The pageant players,” Ary explained to me, her voice raised to be heard above the crowd.
Someone—I didn’t see who, but it was a member of our little group—handed a drink up to me. I took it and sipped it without thinking, thirsty from all the laughter and salty food, and it wasn’t until the tartness hit my tongue that I realized it was Ruby Nectar.
I froze. I knew better than to accept random drinks from people—even people who seemed perfectly nice—but I’d been caught up in joy and energy and wonder. I braced myself for the worst as the sweet liquid slid down my throat.
But nothing happened. If I focused, I could feel a little shiver inside me, quivering in recognition of the essence around me, but it was so faint and unobtrusive that I honestly wasn’t sure if it had been there all along.
The pearls were probably the biggest reason for that, but I also wondered if my body hadn’t already started adapting to this world—I didn’t notice every little shiver the way I once did.
I took another experimental sip of the drink.
I wasn’t willing to test my theory by removing the pearls from my wrist, but in the meantime, the shiver inside me wasn’t unpleasant—it was the same dancing, pleasurable sort of shiver I’d first experienced that night at the masquerade, the sort of sensation that was easy to mistake for arousal.
“Goldie!” Ary yelled over the noise of the parade.
When I twisted my head toward her, she had her arm outstretched to me, her own drink raised in my direction.
“To new friends!” she toasted.
I grinned, raising my drink to meet hers. “To new friends.”
I took another sip of the Ruby Nectar, if for no other reason than to prove once and for all to myself that not everything in Therador existed simply to hurt me.
No, there are beautiful, wondrous parts of this world, too, I thought, tipping my head back to look up at the evening sky.
The sun had set, and now the stars had started to appear, twinkling to life like sparkling dust. The three moons were there, too, each in a different phase, another mystery in this world of exquisite mysteries.
And for the first time since entering Therador I felt nothing but deep, breathless awe.
I was in another world, one of magic and wonder and marvels beyond my imagination, and my blood flowed with a great power I hadn’t even begun to understand.
In a matter of days—a blink—my life had changed, and now that I wasn’t in imminent danger, my trepidation had given way to something else, something that twisted around my heart and called my name on the wind.
When the procession had passed, Ivo lowered me back down. I raised my cup to my lips again, but this time I found it empty.
I need to be more careful, I thought, licking my tart, sticky lips. It would be all too easy to get drunk and stupid, especially when I already felt so strange and floaty just from the wild, joyous energy around me.
“It’s time to go dancing!” Ary declared, and no one had any objections.
She led the way, dragging me along beside her, and we followed the road along the base of the Hill until we came to the far side, closest to the river. Here, there were steps carved into the side of the slope leading up to the mound’s flat top.
“Come on!” she said impatiently, bounding up the steps and pulling me with her.
My legs were still sore from last night’s mad escape through the fields around Far Meadow—which felt like forever ago—but despite my protesting muscles, my feet were just as eager as hers. In no time at all we were at the top of the Hill, looking out over a grassy sea of dancers.
Ary wasted no time. She pulled me into the current of people, twirling me around with her. Now that we were up here, I could hear the music that guided the dancers' steps—and over by the base of the great tree, a small orchestra played a song that made my feet want to fly.
We spun around the grass, following the flow of dancers as it circled the wide trunk of the tree like a living eddy.
The twisted branches above us were hung with glittering lanterns, mimicking the stars in the night sky beyond, and when I tipped back my head to admire them I noticed that the platforms in the tree were full of more people, watching us from above.
Ary and I had made it nearly all the way around the top of the Hill, almost back to where we’d started, when the song shifted to another. In the space between the strains, a couple of men appeared beside us, handsome and smiling, and asked for a dance.
Ary looked pleased, but she glanced in my direction and waited for my encouraging nod before she accepted her suitor’s offer. I was just about to do the same when a form appeared at my elbow and a deep, rumbling voice stopped my hand.
“This dance is mine.”
I looked up to find the tall, broad form of Octavian standing over me.
Someone had found him a new shirt—this one was cerulean blue, and fit him properly—and he also wore an olive hat that gave me Robin Hood vibes but also looked shockingly attractive sitting slightly askew above his square-jawed face.
My heart skipped in my chest before I remembered I was still sort of peeved at him.
“Come to check up on me?” I asked in a tone that suggested what I thought of that. “I promise, I can manage without you for a few hours, even if that requires making decisions for myself.” I didn’t mean to sound so petulant, but I stood by my words.
Octavian, to his credit, at least looked a little shame-faced. “If I gave you the impression that I don’t think you can make your own decisions, I apologize. That was never my intention.”
It wasn’t a full apology, but it was a start.
“I hope you know by now how much I respect and admire you,” he said, stepping close enough that I could feel the heat from his muscled chest, even through his shirt.
I was forced to tilt my head way back to continue meeting his eyes.
“You’ve had your life upended, and yet here you are, resilient and smiling when others would have been cowering in a corner somewhere.
There’s a temerity in you, and a vibrancy, and—” Something shifted in his eyes.
“And then you do something, or say something, that reminds me of just how young, how innocent you are. And I wonder how much of that optimism comes from inexperience.”
I bristled at that, but I felt the truth of it, too—I was young and inexperienced compared to him.
Compared to most people my age, even. And not just sexually—but in life.
There was nothing in my past that even came close to the things he’d experienced, either the good or the bad.
I was completely na?ve when it came to dealing with things like relationships, or…
most things, honestly, outside of the worlds I created in my stories back home.
Octavian saw the shift in my eyes.
“This isn’t about me not trusting you,” he said quickly. His hand came up, his fingers flitting along the edge of my jaw. “This is about desperately wanting to keep you safe from harm. Even harm that comes from me.”
I wanted to tell him that I knew about Esmerine, that I could only imagine the pain and loss he’d experienced, but what did it matter if he couldn’t remember her?
Instead, I said, “You won’t harm me.”
His blue eyes flickered in the lanternlight. “You can’t know that.”
I didn’t. But I knew that I wasn’t going to become less na?ve and inexperienced by refusing to take a chance.
“Does that mean you don’t want to dance after all?” I said. “Because if you’re afraid that my heart isn’t strong enough for you, then I’ll just go find that other nice man who—”
He caught me up in his arms, and before I could even finish my thought, he swept me out into the sea of dancers, and everything else fell away.