Chapter 1 #2
Goldie smiled, dazzled despite herself. Tamsin wore elegance like a shawl. Her silvery hair was swept up in loose coils that never shifted, no matter how much she gestured. Her lipstick never smudged. Her voice could soothe a ghost or start a riot, depending on which the moment required.
She was also one of Bellwether’s key council members—the kind of person who could talk a bog spirit into community service and make it think the idea had been its own.
“I’m fabulous,” Goldie cooed, flicking her hand so her bangles clattered like applause.
Tamsin smiled. “Of course you are. You have that air about you; someone who lives her life to her own truth without worrying what others think. Many people attempt that, but you actually achieve it, darling.”
A laugh tinkled from Goldie’s throat, bright enough to hide her sudden surprise at the compliment. “Oh, Tamsin. You’re such a dear.”
“I merely speak the truth. By the way, I’m so pleased that you stepped up to take charge of our involvement in the Beltane bonfire this year. That’s exactly the spirit and leadership we need.”
“Give me a chance to wrangle an open flame, and I’m helpless to resist,” Goldie quipped, pressing a hand to her heart in mock solemnity.
Tamsin let a soft laugh tumble out, then her gaze sharpened. “Come with me for a moment to my study? I’d like to ask you a favor.”
She took Goldie’s elbow and began steering her toward a side corridor. She stopped in front of an oaken door, pushed it open, and ushered Goldie inside.
The study smelled of beeswax and orange peel, its honey-colored walls lined floor-to-ceiling with books.
A massive mahogany desk dominated the center, every stack of parchment aligned as if a spirit-level had approved the spacing.
Crystal paperweights, each shaped like a different phase of the moon, kept the tidy rows from drifting.
Above the desk perched Tamsin’s familiar: a downy phoenix no bigger than a dove, embers simmering at the tips of its new-grown feathers. It tilted its head, coal-bright eyes tracking Goldie with polite curiosity before puffing a single curl of perfumed smoke from its beak.
Tamsin crossed to the desk and lifted a slim folder sealed with a midnight-blue ribbon. She turned, holding it out between two manicured fingers like a talisman.
“Our Herald of the Solstice Flame bowed out unexpectedly,” she said. “We’re already elbows-deep in Beltane logistics and the Solstice celebration. The committee pressed me for a backup and, naturally, I thought of you.”
Goldie’s breath caught as she reached out to take the folder. Herald of the Solstice Flame. “Really?” she breathed.
“Really.” Tamsin lifted a slender wand etched with copper runes from the desk and extended it to Goldie.
“You’re the perfect blend of theatrics and research.
The previous Herald began the groundwork, but there’s much still to be done.
Knowing your flair for both ceremony and tomes, you’ll step in seamlessly. ”
Goldie’s fingertips tingled as she brushed the wand’s cool metal, etched with the lore of a thousand Solstices.
Tamsin’s eyes glinted. “And, selfishly, your job at the library is useful too. With this whole Green Holdings mess… having a Herald who can nudge open a few archive doors is icing on the cake, darling.”
She let the words settle, then added, her smile widening, “Your help with Beltane planning this year shows you’re ready for more. And Bellwether needs fresh vision at the council’s heart.”
Warmth bloomed in Goldie’s chest. “You’re serious?” she asked softly.
“I never joke about ceremonial fire. Everyone who’s ever met you adores you. It’s time the wider community saw what we already know.”
Goldie exhaled. “Yes. Of course. I’d be honored.”
“Wonderful.” Tamsin’s tone brightened like candlelight as she untied the ribbon and revealed a leather-bound folder, its seal gleaming. Inside lay a neat stack of vellum pages.
“These are the preliminary Solstice briefs,” she said, sliding the papers forward. “Excerpts from last year’s Herald address, eyewitness notes on the torch procession, and the council’s rulings on ritual warding.”
Her smile tilted, conspiratorial. “Here’s the best part: as Herald, you’ll have clearance to the city archives. Think of it as an extra key for your research collection.” She laughed lightly, the sound bright as glass.
The phoenix trilled in approval as Goldie lifted the folder, the faint warmth of its wards brushing her fingertips.
Tamsin smoothed the hem of her caftan and leaned on the desk.
“I’d like you to join the final Beltane planning session next Thursday at two.
Call it a late lunch, committee theatrics included free of charge.
You’ll meet the key players and absorb the civic melodrama that keeps our fire burning.
I’ll also see you get the keys you’ll need for the city archives. ”
“Spectacle and spice! I’m intrigued,” Goldie replied, her laugh tinkling even as her pulse quickened.
Tamsin’s smile softened. “And you’re precisely the woman to give it. I see very big things ahead for you, Goldie Flynn.”
Goldie’s smile glittered as she rose. “Thank you, Tamsin. Truly.”
In the hush of the candlelit corridor, she pressed the folder to her chest. The sconces glowed warmer, as if endorsing Tamsin’s prophecy.
Herald of the Solstice Flame. The words shimmered through her like a promise.
This year was going to burn bright, and it would have her name on the torch.