25. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Mace
T he crowd has doubled since we first saw it, an eclectic mix of young and old dancing and laughing around multiple poles that have all been set on fire. Men and women of all ages are present, with more having their shirts on and hair up than not. The men without shirts all seem to have congregated in a group on the outskirts of one of the poles, which must be menacing to the available women. I wonder if Morrow and I need to go there to blend in, but neither of us seems willing to leave our trio of women.
Plume managed to call a large boar to us for roasting, of which Viola quickly drained of blood. Her bloodlust didn't act up too badly, only causing her to sway once or twice. Plume was also able to boost the growth of some berries, and all of us were relieved not to show up empty-handed.
We approach an elder man in the center of the poles with the bounty. "Sire Harn, we come with a boar for the town in honor of Linna," Tulip says, bowing to what must be the leader of the town, who is tall and broad and past middle-aged for a human. He wears a simple green shirt and black trousers, with no shoes. With his arms crossed, he strikes quite a formidable figure .
When she rises, Harn looks at her curiously. "Tulip Goldtide? Didn't you make it into the other ten this year?" Even in the fading sunlight and flickering fire, you can still see her blush.
"Yes, I did, Sire. But I wanted to come back home."
"Twig never made it back," he says, pulling her into his arms. "Did he…"
A choked sob escapes her. "I saw him die."
Harn holds her against his chest as Tulip quietly cries, and I realize I don't think I've seen Tulip cry before. She may be a beacon of positivity, but she's clearly stronger than anyone realizes if she has managed to hold this pain inside her every day.
She calms quicker than I would've thought and pulls from Harn's arms, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "I would've been dead too if it wasn't for Viola." She gestures to Viola, who's been standing a respectful distance away.
Viola approaches stiffly, looking wholly out of her element in this event with its large crowds and dancing. But she manages a kind smile and nods at Harn, and I can tell she's trying her best for Tulip's sake to enjoy this. "Tulip is an incredible woman, and I was lucky to have her in my party," Viola says by way of greeting.
The man notices the boar and turns his attention back to Tulip. "Is this for us?"
Beaming, she nods. "Happy Linna, Harn."
He takes the boar from Morrow and sits it on a table behind him. He looks over to the group of shirtless men and shouts, "One of you, come string this up to roast – tonight we feast! Courtesy of a Tulip Goldtide, winner of the Race!"
The crowd erupts in cheers, and Tulip ducks her head before moving tightly to Viola's side. Plume steps forward with her sack of berries and smiles. "I brought some berries as well, in case anyone wanted to make a cake or wine out of them."
At this, a small, elderly woman who, until this point, had been hidden under the shadow of a home on the edge of town comes out, smiling wide. She's missing several teeth and has stringy gray hair, her body hobbled with age. "Orda!" Tulip shouts, running towards her. Orda grins and wraps her arms around the young woman.
"My dear Tulip. I had hoped you wouldn't come home." Her voice is shaky with age, but her eyes are clear and deeply intelligent. I bet she was a force to be reckoned with in her younger years.
Tulip shrugs and gestures to the four of us. "I was going to bring them by to meet you tomorrow. We need to talk about Solarius." Orda nods as if that is a regular occurrence and then eyes Plume and the berries excitedly.
"Yes, yes, of course we can talk. But are those thimbleberries?" She holds her hands out.
Plume steps forward with a smile and pushes the sack into the elderly woman's hands. "Yes, ma'am, they are."
"Harn, can I have these?" Orda asks the man, and he grunts in agreement. "They make the best wine," she whispers conspiratorially to Plume. "Here, let me grab you a few bottles to enjoy for the night."
She disappears into the home behind her and returns with two large bottles of slightly pink wine. I grab one, and so does Morrow. Tulip hugs the woman and kisses her on the cheek before saying, "We'll be here in the morning, Orda."
"Yes, yes, I have much to do before then." Orda nods and shuffles off with the large bag of berries while shouting, "Enjoy yourselves! Linna only happens once a year, you know!"
The five of us make our way back into the circle of fire poles and lower ourselves to the ground, pulling the corks out of the wine bottles and drinking directly from them. At first taste, it's sweet, with a honey flavor, but there are sour notes to it that dry my tongue slightly.
"It's better than your mead, Shadowweaver," Morrow says, shooting Viola a wicked grin. She kicks out at his foot, and he chuckles.
For a while, the five of us sit, quietly observing the crowd in their dancing and merriment and drinking heavily from the bottles. When both are about half full, my brain is starting to feel that pleasant fog that accompanies alcohol consumption. I look over at Viola and realize I've never seen her drink much more than a glass or two of wine or a swig of mead here and there. This time, she drinks as much as the rest of us do, and in the firelight, I can see her face reddened with the effects of the wine. A lazy smile plays around her face as she watches Tulip sway in place to the music. She must feel safe here, with us, to drink this much.
When I see her like this, unafraid, relaxed, and joyful, it makes my heart ache at the life she should have had, but I also feel profoundly grateful that I get to see her experience it now.
I long to run my hands through her hair, to touch her waist, to pull her into my lap and feel the grip of those powerful thighs, but I refrain. Even happily intoxicated, it is unlikely Viola would be a fan of that level of intimacy with me, at least in public. I still am unsure where we stand, despite the small touches and glances she has graced me with. Tulip's near-death experience brought to light that there are parts of Viola that are shattered from years of disuse and trauma. It's going to take time and effort for her to repair them, and I am not sure if she's willing to try.
After all, she's gotten along just fine until now. For me to push that would be utterly selfish, driven by a desire to make a life with her that she may not even want.
Which is, I'm sure, getting ahead of myself. This woman only began to show affection towards me a week ago, and here I am, thinking about having her in my future.
A shirtless man approaches our group, snapping me out of my thoughts, and we all look up at him. He's thin, with long limbs and a small waist, and barefoot, the dusty ground climbing up his legs from where his trousers are rolled up. He looks young, with pockmarks still showing on his chin that has yet to sprout hair fully. His hair is kept short and is a faded color blonde. He holds a hand out to Tulip, and she looks at him with surprise. "Yoseph?" His face breaks into a smile, and she hops up on her feet and embraces him .
"Hey, Tulip." The blush on his face could be seen in the darkest of nights. I wonder if this is the boy she shared her first kiss with. Judging by the way he's looking at her, if he wasn't, he wishes he had been. "I never thought I'd see you again. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to dance with you this time." His voice is deeper than I expected, and his words make Viola grin widely. This is the type of happiness she wants for Tulip.
Without a glance back, Tulip runs off with him, her body pressed close to his as they begin dancing in the direct center of the poles, where many shirtless men and ladies with loose hair spin around. Morrow starts to grumble angrily beside me.
"You could've asked her to dance, you know," I say under my breath.
"Or you could go ask someone else to dance and see if it makes her jealous," Viola says with a small hiccup. This novelty of a drunk Viola may never wear off. She takes another sip of the wine and passes it to me, which I happily accept.
When I pull the bottle down from my face, another shirtless man stands in front of us. I think he's looking at Plume, but he turns and makes eye contact with Viola. He's massive, with broad shoulders like Morrow but taller than even I am, with twisting black tattoos all down his arms and chest. His head is shaven, but he sports a large beard. His tan trousers are slung low on his hips, and I suddenly feel very self-conscious about every bit of my body. I am strong, but not built like this.
"Miss, my name is Rew. I recognize you from the Race. I was close this year but just missed the other ten. You, however, won the Race, and yet here you are." His voice is booming in a way that may attract the attention of every animal in a hundred-mile radius. Viola rises to slightly shakey bare feet and tilts her head at him.
"Yet here I am," is all she says.
"A woman like you is a rarity indeed. I would be honored if you would dance with me. I think we would have a lot to talk about." He holds his hand out to her.
She stares at his outstretched hand, eyes narrowed on it as if it's a threat. "I don't dance."
He shrugs and flips his hand over to indicate he's still waiting for her acceptance. "I can lead."
There is a momentary standoff, and I begin to chuckle to myself at how this large man is going to retreat with his tail between his legs, but he doesn't waver. He just stands there, staring at Viola, daring her to deny his hand.
And then, to my complete surprise, she accepts it with a shrug after tapping her thigh to confirm her blade is still present.
He pulls her close to his side as they move to the center of the poles. He spins her around, leaning down to her ear, where he appears to be telling her a story. I watch as her brow furrows, and it takes everything in me to not interrupt. But the conversation is soon over, and the tension in her face relaxes. He resumes twirling her around the poles, and she is laughing, head thrown back and long hair flowing in the wind.
I'm not sure if it's the wine, the fact that Tulip is okay after near-certain death, or the freedom and knowledge that she will never Race again that is allowing her to let her guard down and celebrate like this, but I wish I were the one getting to bring her that level of joy.
At the champion's gala, she was stiff, barely looking at anyone except for her conversation with Loris. There was certainly no dancing. True to his word, Rew is leading her, his large size dwarfing her body as he swings her around. Viola isn't a small woman, and yet, in his arms, she seems delicate. His touches are respectful, which is a wise move for him to make, considering Viola's speed with a blade.
No, this is not like the gala at all. There is no large dress, no collar that my brother strapped around her neck in sight. Here, she is a different person, an older version of Tulip, as they get twirled about by men who just see them as women. Maybe that's what Viola wants, what she needs. She went from being a Racer to a vessel, and now we are declaring her a God. Does she desire to be just a woman?
It's like I can't take my eyes off of them as they dance. Rew is surprisingly graceful on his large feet, maneuvering Viola through the crowd and back with ease. He leans down to whisper in her ear, and she laughs, her shoulders shaking as she rolls her eyes. What did he say to her to gain that reaction?
Did he proposition her?
Why wouldn't he? She's strong and proven to be powerful, and her brutal beauty overshadows all of the women here. His hand creeps lower down her back, and I feel my fist tightening and the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy crawling up my body .
Viola and I are not promised to one another, and in fact, we go back and forth on whether we're even really speaking to one another every hour. But still, the sight of her in another man's arms makes my skin crackle with the desire to strike him down and claim her as my own.
Why haven't I done so yet? Why haven't I forced her to have those conversations she tries to avoid? I am fooling myself if I think I can be without her. From the moment we locked eyes in opening ceremonies, and I felt the cold indifference rolling off her, I was lost to her.
She will be my undoing, my ruin.
Let her.
Let her ruin me.
Let her destroy everything I was before I met her.
I will welcome it, crave it. She can remake me into whatever she needs me to be.
I just need that fucking brute to get his hands off of her.
"You could've asked her to dance, you know," Morrow says under his breath.
Viola dances with several people throughout the evening, and eventually, my jealousy lessens to a small simmer. Though I am still tensing when a man's hand gets too low on her back, I recognize that this is not someone that Viola Mistflow has ever been, and I would be doing her a disservice if I took it away from her by forcing her to dance only with me.
After all, I am a face these citizens have grown to hate over the years. To be seen dancing with me would take all other opportunities from her.
Plume has been approached by and danced with several men and women, and the permanent flush on her face is a welcome sight. She has never shown much of an outward desire for a partner before, but my mind keeps going back to her wish for a draw to one. I never realized how lonely she was. Granted, I never really asked. She was always more of Zeph's friend despite us all being similar in age. Still, I hold affection for her and want her to be happy, so I encourage her to dance with all who ask.
Morrow has been dancing with anyone he can get his hands on except Tulip. The stubbornness of that man appears to know no bounds. If he asked, she'd no doubt say yes, but he's refusing on some strange principle. My gut says it's because she wore her hair down at all and didn't continue the marriage ruse.
I haven't danced with anyone. Dancing is not something I've ever spent much time doing, so instead, I've struck up conversations with those Lowlanders who recognize me. They're all curious about my presence here, but there doesn't seem to be any animosity. They still heavily worship the Radiant Sunfire here, which must color their view of the Race in a more positive light.
It's in the middle of one of these conversations when Viola ends up right in front of me, hair wild and windswept, face ruddy with exertion and alcohol. The ties in the neck of her shirt have come undone, leaving a tempting glimpse of her collarbones and sternum.
"Mace," she breathes. It's a caress upon my ears. Whenever she says my name, I lose rational thought for a brief moment. "Dance with me."
Without hesitation, I take her hand and do my best to spin her into the circle. For her, I will fake my way through dances.
The music is heavy on the drums, with a deep rhythm I can feel in my bones. She pulls me close, closer than I saw her with any of the men before, which swells an embarrassing amount of pride in me, and wraps her arms around my neck. My hands find her lower back, lifting up her shirt to press directly on her flesh. "Miss Mistflow, I didn't take you for much of a dancer."
She flashes me a mischievous grin. "I normally am not. I blame the wine."
"I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong. It's nice to see you not on edge and looking over your shoulder all the time. You seem like a different person than the woman who took that elevator into Ytopie."
Spinning her around, I dip her away from my body towards the floor. As she rises, she throws a leg over one of my thighs. "I am a different person. Not just because of all the horrible things I saw and learned. This magic within me… I feel different, Mace. Even when I combined magic with all of you on the boat, it felt right. I was raised to be suspicious and cautious my whole life, but I wonder how much of that was a side effect of my body missing what it needed. I don't know if it makes sense," she's speaking fast, her breath heaving her chest from the exertion of dancing, "but it's like the more I use the magic, the more me I feel. Not the me I used to be. But the me I was supposed to be." I slide her off my thigh and spin her away from my body again, listening to her squeal with joy before pulling her back to my chest. "I'm not Racing. I'm not starving. I'm not training day in and out. This magic fills a void that was always there, I just didn't know it."
I stroke my finger down her cheekbone, savoring the feeling of her soft skin. "For what it's worth, I'm so sorry for the part I played in that life."
She spins to face me, and her nose wrinkles. "Come on, Mace. Don't say that. Why try to take this wonderful moment and night and pull your guilt back into it? You're the only one who is beating you up over it. I'll never forget the harm you caused, but life isn't always black and white, right and wrong. I can understand the choices you made perfectly. Fuck, I probably would have made them myself." I step to the left, and she follows, pushing her chest against mine as she sways. "I just happen to be someone who suffered the collateral damage of the decisions you made. It doesn't mean it was the wrong choice in the grand scheme of things."
Even drunk, Viola manages to put me in my place. I lead her to the edge of the circle and spin her around, pressing her up against one of the firelit poles. "I think I understand. You hate my guilt and love the angry, dominant man inside me. You've long since made that clear."
She chuckles, rolling her eyes as she throws her arms around my neck. In a surprising moment of vulnerability, her eyes sparkle as she glances down at my lips. "I will take any version of you, Mace."
My heart stops, and I struggle to catch my breath at her admission. But that moment passes quickly when she jokes, "But yeah, the self-deprecating full of guilt one isn't nearly as fun as the other." She notches her hips within mine when she pulls me flush on her chest. The proximity to her drives me wild, her scent a cool mint weaved with the musk of her sweat, briefly overpowering my rational thought.
I clear my throat and all the devious things I want to do to her from my mind and slide my hand up the side of her neck, resting on her jawline. "Sorry, the other Mace doesn't come out to play when you've been drinking, my numen." I lean forward to kiss her, and she moans softly against my lips. My hands drop to her hips as hers grip my shoulder blades. I raise my knee up to rest between her thighs, and she sinks onto it.
Just as I move to make the kiss deeper, a crash of lightning sounds. "Fuck," I murmur, pulling away from her. A loud roar follows the crack, and I wrinkle my nose, meeting Viola's confused eyes. "That couldn't have been us…" A commotion breaks out, with prolonged screaming and women running as men arm themselves. I grab a man who darts by, "What's going on?" I shout.
"A minotaur is here."