37. Esther
ESTHER
Unbridled joy fills me as my hands go to the sky and the rain begins to pour. Every step, every internal chant and blessing, I memorized from Master Kain.
“Why do I even have to learn this stupid dance? It’s not like I can whip it out in a fight. Hi, excuse me, please stop right there, I want to pull out a rain dance so it makes this fight look more epic?” I grumbled in complaint at the age of eight when he first taught me this enchantment.
“Not everything is about being strong, Esther. Power, you have, grace, and a moment of peace are what will help you connect with others.”
“But everyone here already likes me,” I’d arrogantly reminded him.
“And someday, your reach will go past our continent. Now, shoulders back.”
I spin myself under Blaze’s arm, ignoring the fact that he has two left feet and has always hated dancing.
“You perfected it. King Kain would be proud,” Blaze says, drawing me closer and pressing one hand to my lower back, guiding me with his other hand.
Tears spring to my eyes at the thought of Master Kain not being here for it.
It was a performance I could only show few, so to dance so freely today and showcase the magnitude of my power in such a graceful way shifts something inside me.
Instead of people staring at me with fear and hatred, they dance and celebrate around me.
I look for Regent, only able to catch a wisp of his magic as he walks away.
My stomach sinks. I try not to let him affect me so deeply as I have tried my hardest this last month, and yet even now I still find myself searching for him. My invisible chains are always checking in on his whereabouts of their own accord.
My throat burns, and I swallow, pained by the idea of having such joy without Grimace. I search the crowd, looking into the eyes of the people surrounding me.
Regent trusts these people, and to an extent, I trust them as well. I set Grimace free, opening my throat in liberation as I freely call him before the others. Those closest around us gasp as he materializes from my throat, and Blaze’s body locks up, his gaze darting around, waiting for any threat.
“Ew, what is that?” a child shouts, pointing at Grimace, who scampers onto my shoulder.
He casually scratches at the back of his head, looking at the child as if confused by the human’s size, and then pokes out his tongue.
“A hatchling,” Sheila croons, limping over on her cane with bewilderment.
Grimace scampers over to my other shoulder, where he’s quickly greeted by another child.
Again, I look past Sheila in hopes that it means Regent is here to celebrate with the others.
Did he see my enchantment? What did he think?
“A hatchling?” I ask, still guarded around those who spot Grimace and whisper among themselves.
“Yes, he’s only a baby beast.”
My eyes grow wide. “I’ve had him… for as long as I can remember. Is it normal for beasts to remain young for so long?”
“Depending on what beast. I haven’t seen anything like him before. However, there are many factors that go into the growth of the little beast. If he’s been concealed mostly in the contracted marking, then he hasn’t had time to grow,” Sheila says.
“My master did this to protect me.” My hand comes up to my glamoured marking defensively.
“And it has served a purpose, but it’s no better than a collar held in shame,” Sheila says gently. “It stifles your bond, interferes with the natural laws of contract between beast and master. If you so choose, there is a ritual we can do for you to remove it.”
All this time, had I really been suppressing our bond? I’m not ashamed of Grimace, but is that how he felt, being shoved down? Is that why it always burned at my throat when he materialized?
“Think on it. For now, I know better than to stand in his way,” Sheila says.
“Who’s way?”
But when Sheila steps to the side, Regent’s six-foot-seven build looms behind her as he storms across, people parting out of his way as he comes to a stop in front of me.
It’s not me he looks at, but Blaze. “I will dance with her.”
“I don’t think it’s you she asked,” Blaze bites back.
I roll my eyes. “I really can’t be a part of this dick-swinging competition again.”
A woman gasps, covering her daughter’s ears, and I immediately cringe. Grimace jumps onto Blaze’s shoulder, who slowly lets go of my hand and hip. “I’ll go hunt.”
“Wait, Blaze.” I grab his arm, but his gaze doesn’t meet mine. The few strands of Regent’s magic tug at mine, imploring me to shift to him instead.
“I’ll return. I always do.” His gaze flicks to Regent as he turns and disappears into the crowd.
Regent’s hand slips around my waist, and I glare, my teeth grinding.
“Stop glowering and acting as if you didn’t want this, Denva. I felt your magic calling for me.”
Heat scorches my cheeks as I look up at him. “You and Blaze need to get along. Whatever this thing is between you two has to stop.”
He doesn’t look at me. “You’re intolerable, you know that, right?”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I didn’t say I was done.” The edges of his lips tilt up, and a ripple of warmth floods to my core.
This push and pull. All the fighting, scathing words, and yet somehow, I always end up in his arms. “You’re starting to make me feel like I’m going crazy,” I breathe, leaning my head against his chest, not daring enough to look into his eyes.
We fall into a steady rhythm as members around us bring out musical tools, pitching a makeshift cloth over them to cover the instruments from the rain.
I admire what the Tahil clan have here. A free spirit, despite their beliefs in Neina and the Fates, lives a life that nurtures them as one. A family from the very start.
I wonder if the omni clan celebrated in such grand ways. I wonder if they as a whole would be welcome in such a place as this; or, simply for being what they were, would they be shunned? I sigh, knowing the answer.
No. They would not have been welcome.
“Your enchantment was beautiful, Denva,” Regent whispers into my ear. I look up at him, waiting for a snide comment, but it doesn’t come. He simply continues to lead me through a dance.
“I only hope it helps,” I say. A small kernel of warmth shifts in my stomach as I let him in little by little, my magic furling around him, concerned by the lack of his. “Regent?”
“What is it, Denva?” he asks, resting his chin on my head. Denva, there’s that nickname again, but I have a far more concerning question.
“What’s happening to your magic?”
His body stiffens, the tender ease between us slamming closed as he growls out, “Don’t worry about my magic.”
“But you can look into my world, right? That’s how it works?” I push away from him. “When will you trust me?”
His jaw grinds as he looks around at the few people who seem to be listening in. “Believe me when I say it’s better this way.”
“Better for who?”
My magic grates against his, that serene moment dispersed. I want to throw daggers and protect myself from his obvious rejection. A couple sitting on the ground shift uncomfortably, and I grow ashamed, knowing it’s the subtlety of my magic making them feel on edge.
“Call back your lap dog. I’m sure he’ll answer all your questions,” he growls, and turns his back. I refrain from yelling after him and watch as he leaves between the tents.
What did I expect? Every time, it’s one step forward, two steps back. I walk away in the direction Blaze left, my joy soured, my irritation growing as one of my invisible chains independently follows Regent, unable to entirely let go.
Despite the rain, the Tahil clan continue with their celebrations. The night is cold, the air fresh, and yet instead of eating around the firepit like they often do, they gather in a grand tent out of the rain, sharing food down a long wooden table.
Instruments continue to play, and the feelopes laze about the tent, seeming more aggravated by the rain with their ears twitching.
Grimace tugs on a piece of meat that a child holds, the two fighting back and forth over it.
The kid laughs as he lets go, and Grimace goes flying, knocking over a pitcher of ale.
Grimace scurries off with the meat, stomping on the tail of one of the feelopes who hisses at him.
I wasn’t able to find Blaze; only Grimace returned at the edges of the woods. So, I sit alone, watching the people, enthralled by their gathering, yet exhausted all the same.
Couples and children dance among the makeshift grand hall, happily swaying their arms from side to side as they laugh with childlike wonder.
A man sits on the ground, beating against drums with his hands to the rhythm.
A hunter who still wears his hunting attire elegantly plays his flute.
It’s entrancing, watching the thickly bearded, muscled man whistle a tune so light and beautiful, opposite to his duty in this camp.
A woman sways in an elegant dance as she kicks up her skirt and lets the bells around her ankles ring to the beat.
A spirit greer in the corner flexes her fingers, creating streaking white lines that pillow into a puppeteer-like performance for the children, who clap delightedly.
They are carefree, living a life in light and celebration for what they have, and not focusing on what is lost. I wonder what living such a lifestyle would feel like?
My magic constantly pushes against the last remains of where I felt Regent until he simply disappeared, a sinking feeling growing heavy in my stomach. Has he used the Ariagem? Has he left?
Will I see him again?
I push to my feet, the gnawing feeling eating me alive. Every time my magic touches the edges of where he disappeared, it’s met with foreign magic. A barrier, maybe? Or was I lying to myself, thinking he wouldn’t so easily slip away? He holds no loyalty to me. And what right do I have to demand it?
But there’s a knowing within me that paces back and forth for his return.
I am going mad.
Not because of the Fates.
Not because of the gods.
And not because of war.
Because of him.