24. Draven
DRAVEN
"Enough already!"
Isolde's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade through silk.
The crowd's murmuring dies instantly, heads swiveling toward her honey stall where she stands with her hands clenched at her sides.
Her hazel eyes blaze with fury I've never seen before, transforming her gentle features into something fierce and unyielding.
She pushes through the crowd with determined precision.
Isolde reaches the base of the barrel and looks up at me. Her dark curls have escaped their loose tie, framing her face in wild waves. The afternoon light reflects the gold flecks in her eyes, and for a moment the entire festival fades to nothing but her upturned face.
She extends her hand toward me.
My throat constricts. The simple gesture carries more weight than any declaration, any promise. Her fingers are steady despite the tremor I can see running through her shoulders.
I step down from the barrel without hesitation, my boots hitting the cobblestones with a dull thud. Her warm fingers close around mine, and the contact sends electricity racing up my arm. We hold each other's gaze for a heartbeat that stretches into eternity.
Then she turns toward the crowd, still gripping my hand like an anchor.
"I know our lovely guests for the festival don't know what's going on, but those of you who live in Harvest Hollow do.
And forgive me for saying so but you people are selfish and ignorant.
" Her voice carries across the square with crystalline clarity.
"Three weeks ago you were calling him a hero for saving my life from that moor wolf.
Now you want to blame him for Sarah's injury? "
Vaelis opens her mouth to protest, but Isolde's doesn't let her get a word in.
"I've watched you mold both of us into whatever characters suit your entertainment." Her fingers tighten around mine, grounding me as her words slice through years of careful politeness. "We're not names in your Sunday paper. We're people with feelings and thoughts of our own."
The crowd shifts uncomfortably. Thornak nods with grim approval from the edge of the gathering. Maddie covers her mouth with both hands, eyes wide.
"Sarah was attacked because predators exist," Isolde continues, her voice steady as granite. "Not because Draven failed you. He's spent twelve years keeping this town safe while you sleep soundly in your beds, never acknowledging the cost."
"Tell me," Isolde demands, her voice rising as she sweeps her free arm toward the crowd. "When have any of you taken supplies through the forest for Draven? When have you invited him over for a warm meal to make him feel welcome?"
The murmuring starts immediately—uncomfortable shuffling, whispered conversations behind cupped hands. Alma's face flushes crimson as she exchanges glances with her neighbor. Granda Oltar clears his throat and looks anywhere but at Isolde's blazing eyes.
I feel the heaviness of their collective guilt settling over the square like morning fog. Isolde's fingers remain locked with mine, her grip fierce and unwavering.
"It makes sense that you exclude me," she continues, her voice cutting through their discomfort with surgical precision.
"I'm new. I'm temporary. But to ignore the fact that Draven is out there day and night taking care of the dangers so that you don't have to—until it's convenient for you to talk about it—is outrageous. "
A woman near the back of the crowd opens her mouth to protest, but Isolde's withering stare silences her before she can speak.
"I'm tired of seeing you treat him like he's one of the creatures in the trees that you would rather ignore than take responsibility for."
I watch faces crumple with recognition, shame creeping across features that moments ago held righteous indignation. Thornak's expression remains grim but approving, his massive arms crossed as he watches the crowd squirm under Isolde's unflinching assessment.
"He's a good man," Isolde declares, her voice breaking slightly on the words. "Someone who has dedicated himself to keeping Harvest Hollow safe. And you repay him by blaming him for the actions of a wolf."
The silence stretches taut as a bowstring. Even the festival music from the distant stalls has died away, leaving only the whisper of autumn wind through the trees and the soft creak of hanging lanterns.
Vaelis stands frozen near the barrel, her perfect composure finally cracked. Her silver-blonde hair catches the afternoon light, but her usual ethereal beauty looks brittle now, like glass about to shatter.
A flutter of iridescent wings catches my attention as Sarah emerges from behind the crowd.
Her small form glows faintly in the afternoon light, wings beating rapidly as she approaches.
The pixie's usual mischievous energy has been replaced by something more serious, her expression uncharacteristically grave.
The crowd parts instinctively as she flies toward me, landing gracefully on the cobblestones just a few feet away. Her luminescent skin seems dimmed somehow, and I notice the careful way she holds her left wing—still healing from the wolf attack that started this entire mess.
"Draven." Her voice carries clearly across the silent square, each word deliberate and measured. "I need to say something."
My chest tightens. The weight of everyone's stares presses down on me like a physical thing, but Sarah's unwavering gaze holds mine steady. Isolde's fingers remain intertwined with mine, her grip a lifeline in the storm of attention.
"I never blamed you for what happened to me." Sarah's declaration cuts through the tension like a blade through silk. "Not once. Not ever."
The crowd shifts uncomfortably, whispers dying before they can take root.
"That wolf was hunting," Sarah continues, her wings catching the light as she gestures. "It was going to hurt someone eventually. If not me, then maybe a child. Maybe someone who couldn't fly away fast enough."
My throat constricts. The relief that floods through me is so sudden and overwhelming that I have to lock my knees to keep standing. Three weeks of carrying that guilt, of wondering if my failure had cost Sarah her safety, begins to crack and crumble.
"You tracked that beast for two days straight without rest," Sarah says, her voice growing stronger with each word. "You found it before it could hurt anyone else. You protected this town like you always do."
She takes a step closer, tilting her head back to meet my eyes directly.
"I'm grateful, Draven. We all should be. And I should have spoken up in your defense long before this."
The quiet that follows feels different now—not accusatory, but contemplative. I can see the shift in faces around the square as Sarah's words sink in. Maddie wipes at her eyes with her hand. Thornak nods grimly, his massive arms still crossed but his expression softer.
Even Vaelis has gone still, her perfect composure finally showing cracks as the foundation of her accusations crumbles beneath Sarah's simple honesty.
"Thank you," I say roughly, shifting uncomfortably.
"No," Sarah asserts. "Thank you, Draven."