Chapter 15
Callan took Baztien to get ready in his quarters and left Soren and Enara with a lady’s maid named Saoirse. She had piercing green eyes and wild red hair that curled out from the top of her head in a large mane. Her pale skin was flawless, and her long legs had her towering above even Enara by a good six inches.
“I can not wait for tonight,” she said with a large grin splayed across her striking features. Her voice lilted like a song but was made rougher by her thick accent. “Hallival is the best event of the year,” she continued. “You are lucky to have arrived on this day.” She practically skipped as she led them down a hall and into a large dressing room.
“What exactly are you celebrating?” Enara asked as she took in the cream-colored pouffes and large mirrors that lined the left wall.
“Oh, I’m so glad you asked,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Come; bathe with me, and I’ll tell you the history of Hallival.”
Without warning, Saoirse stripped naked and padded to the large bath that ran from wall to wall at the back of the room. She immersed herself in the steaming water and beckoned them to join. After a moment’s hesitation, they did.
Communal bathing was not common practice in Vreburn, but Soren and Enara had gone skinny dipping on more than one occasion, so how different was it really? At least this water was warm.
The large bath was filled by a hot spring that flowed from further up the mountain. The water traveled over the rock that had been heated by the molten lava below, resulting in a luxurious bath that never cooled. Enara marveled at the ingenuity.
They scrubbed away the previous days’ travel as Saoirse began explaining the origin of Hallival.
“Hallival, or Festival of Dathan—or color, in the common tongue—has been celebrated in Braexmirth for over three centuries and is always held on the final day of the autumn tide. In the old days, the men would set out to hunt at the start of the autumn tide, wearing only white to show their prey who their masters were.”
“That had to be nearly impossible,” Soren said in awe. “They would be seen from a mile away.”
“Exactly.” Saoirse nodded. “This is what made the hunt so exciting. They had to earn the trust of the animals over the course of days and weeks before making the kill.”
“That’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” Enara asked. “Making the animal feel safe before ending its life?”
“I could see how you would feel that way, but their deaths were quick, better than any they would have received in the wild. No part of the animal was wasted, and any beast younglings were off limits. When the hunt was over, they would come back wearing the pelts of their chosen familiar and celebrate. They would eat sweets and drink until their hearts’ content, dancing under the stars as the last of the leaves fell from the trees.”
“That sounds beautiful,” Soren said.
Saoirse let out a soft chuckle. “I imagine it was, though traditions have changed over the years since we no longer need to hunt for survival. Now, the celebrations are held in a more symbolic way, to honor our ancestors. We still dance under the stars. Everyone dresses in white, with masks depicting different animals native to our lands, and we eat and drink until our minds are fuzzy and our hearts are full.”
“Well, I am all for it,” Enara replied, wringing out her hair.
“Only one problem,” Soren said, wrapping herself in a hemp towel. “We have nothing to wear.”
Saoirse’s eyes twinkled. “I think I can help you with that.”
* * *
Baz stoodat the base of the winding stairs that led to the throne room, his face half-covered in a mask designed to match the features of a mountain lion. Callan stood beside him, and they waited in awkward silence for the girls to join them. The event, he was told, would be held in a cavern near the edge of the mountain, and they would travel the pathways carved through the castle to get there.
Baz shuffled back and forth nervously, tugging on the white linen that hung from his hips. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of his body. Though Callan was larger than him in stature, Baz matched him muscle for muscle and couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. He was simply used to wearing a cotton suit rather than the white fabric that was little more than a loincloth wrapped around his waist and stopping just short of his knees.
A breeze drifted through the landing, causing Baz to jump as it drifted to places it had no right being in.
Callan chuckled though his wolf mask as the poor boy adjusted the little fabric he had on. “Leave it be, lad. You’ll not be the only one showing a lot of skin tonight.”
Baz was about to ask what that meant but stopped short when he heard familiar voices floating down from the stairwell. Almost as if Callan’s comment had summoned them, Enara, Soren, and the redheaded lady’s maid appeared.
All three of them wore white clothes that left little to the imagination. The fabric was draped and knotted in all the right places to accentuate every one of their curves while somehow keeping their personal bits covered. Their makeup was minimal; all they had done was add some charcoal to their eyes and salve to their lips.
Baz swallowed thickly as they descended the stairs. The redhead came down first, taking Callan’s arm, excitement bubbling from all of her pores. “Don’t they look great!” Her smile was radiant beneath her mask; her animal of choice being a rabbit. The ears from her mask popped up playfully against the blazing inferno of curls that was her hair. Baz had to admit the creature seemed to match her personality.
Soren followed, her mask that of a fox, which Baz thought complemented her small features nicely. Her hair had been redyed and shone a radiant midnight blue, and the sides had been twisted back from her face and secured with pinched clips of silver.
She patted Baz’s muscular arm as she stood beside Saoirse and said, “Try not to get too excited.”
“I make no promises,” he responded, staring in awe at Enara.
Her brown hair was tied back in a series of connected ponytails that had been tugged gently to splay out like a beautiful main to the back of her head. Her mask was that of an owl, which conveyed a sort of quiet strength. The minimal fabric covering her body made his mouth dry, and he resisted the urge to adjust himself.
He held out his arm as she approached, and she took it, smirking at him. “You can pick up your jaw now.”
He blushed under his mask, not realizing he had left his mouth hanging open, panting like an excited dog. “Sorry.” He laughed nervously, and she planted a kiss on his already parted lips.
“All right, the two of you,” Saoirse said, cutting the kiss short. “You’ll have plenty of time for that later. Let’s get a move on.”
Just as she spoke, the doorway swung open to reveal the king, his beard peeking out from under his bear-shaped facial covering, trailed by the twin guards who wore identical elk masks, complete with dangerous-looking horns. The king wore a tunic along with his loincloth, and Baz could see the glint of white metal underneath, no doubt as a precaution. The guards had also swapped their gray armor for white, the light tones making their skin look velvety and rich, their dark eyes mysterious.
“You lot could almost pass for locals,” the king complimented. “Now, let me show you how we in Braexmirth celebrate.”
* * *
They first heardthe drums as they followed the tunnel deep into the mountain. The deep booming radiated through their bodies, and Soren could feel the hair on her arms lift. The energy was palpable, and though she was worried about the goings-on in Edras Mora, she couldn’t help but let some excitement wash over her. This could be good to get my mind off of things.
She’d had some time throughout their travels to do a deep dive into her own psyche and had come to two conclusions. One, it was okay to continue to grieve her father, but she needed to find less destructive means of coping. And two, as much as she wanted to deny her feelings toward the man who had killed her father, a sliver of her heart still beat for the Prince of Ravens.
A twinge of guilt stole the breath from her lungs, and her panic creeped forth from the dark recesses of her mind. He killed him. You disgrace his memory by admitting your feelings for that monster.
Images from her nightmare flashed before her eyes, and she grabbed a hold of the wall to fight back a wave of nausea. Her mind did not relent its attack.
You are a terrible daughter. Your father would be ashamed.
She swallowed against the knot in her throat and inhaled deeply.
The rest of the group was ahead of them, apart from one of the twins, who took up the rear.
“Are you all right?” he asked, speaking above the music. His tone was surprisingly gentle, given his tough exterior.
“Yeah,” she spat out. “Must be the change in altitude.”
Seeming to accept that answer, he smiled and said, “We are almost there. Have some water and sit for a moment, and you’ll be as good as new.”
She returned his kind smile, albeit half-heartedly, and took a few more calming breaths.
As they traveled, Enara had been working with her to manage her panic better so she wouldn’t succumb to it like she had back at the manor. Anytime her panic arose, Enara would walk her through the five senses to help her regain her composure and practice deep breathing until she was well enough to speak again. But Enara would not always be there, and she would not submit herself to being their third wheel for the rest of her life.
Idly, her thoughts popped back to her home in Vreburn and the little jar of pills in her bedside table. She had never liked taking them in the first place and only had when it seemed absolutely necessary. She was determined to heal on her own without the need to supplement herself.
She waved the guard off and tried to put up her mental shield to fight against the intrusive thoughts.
You are a disgrace, the voice in her mind sneered at her, the same voice that filled her with regret and self-doubt, but she fought it back.
I did not know of his actions until after my feelings developed. It is not my fault.
You are disgusting for still caring for such a beast.
Feelings don’t just go away, even if you hate someone.
You should have killed him.
Killing him will not bring my father back.
The last retort seemed to silence the demons in her mind and gave her the reprieve she needed to steady herself. Her senses came back into focus, and she let the drums replenish her energy stores. She could still feel the voice nagging in the back of her mind, but it was far away, muted by the cacophony of music that surrounded her.
I will not let you win today, she thought to herself as she placed a firm wall up to block out the last of her negative thoughts. Today, I will enjoy myself fully and not seek out meaningless pleasure.
With that in mind, she walked around the final curve of the carved-out tunnel and took in all Hallival had to offer.
* * *
The crowdbefore her was so large that every citizen in the province had to have been in attendance. Thousands of bodies swayed back and forth, moving to the rhythm of the massive drums that sat on a platform above the fray.
The cave was naturally occurring, but stoneworkers had carved out staircases and platforms to make the space more usable, working with the naturally formed pillars. The stalagmites and stalactites were so large that they connected floor-to-ceiling, and a bright teal pool sat in the far corner. An assortment of every sweet Soren had ever deigned to think of sat atop a large flat stone on the right-hand side of the room, and a grouping of people milled about happily. She noticed Baz shoveling the goodies into his mouth at an unhealthy pace and laughed. Good thing his mask doesn’t cover his jaw,she thought.
She jumped as a hand encircled her wrist but relaxed when she realized it was Enara.
“Hey, lady, thought I lost you there,” she said, out of breath from running up the stairs. “Ori said you needed a moment to yourself. Are you okay?”
“Who?” Soren asked distractedly.
“Ori, the guard. His brother’s name is Ikei.”
“Oh, gotcha. Yeah, no, I’m okay. Was just overwhelmed for a minute, but I’m good now.”
Enara’s hazel eyes bore into her brown ones from beneath her mask.
“I promise,” Soren said. “Now, go have fun.”
“Okay, but it’s crazy down there. Meet at the bottom of this staircase when the night’s over if we don’t find each other before then?”
“Yeah, yeah. Now, go!”
As she turned to leave, Soren smacked her on the butt, and Enara gave her the finger.
“Have fun,” her friend yelled then added, “But not too much!”
Soren laughed and made her way down the stairs. Enara had already dragged Baz into the crowd before Soren had reached the sweets’ table. She popped a mini chocolate ball into her mouth and relished in the mix of sweet and bitter that played on her tongue. She tasted a few more delicacies that could not easily be found in Draestel, including a tart made from elderfruit, before washing it all down with a full glass of bliss. Soren thought the name odd, but it looked delicious. The liquid was like molten silver but went down like cool water and tasted of vodka and sweet cream. She reached for a second glass, but a voice to her left stilled her hand.
“I wouldn’t,” a man in a badger mask said. “Not unless you want to end up in bed with someone before the party really starts.”
“Excuse me?” Soren asked. She would have responded with a, “What the fuck did you just say?” but she was the guest of the king.
“Sorry,” he said, yelling over the music. “I just mean that it is an aphrodisiac. It is weak, but if you inhale it like you did the last glass, your actions may not be entirely your own.”
“Oh, thanks, I guess,” she replied, putting the empty goblet down and opting for a glass of crisp cider instead.
He then surprised her by asking, “Do you want to dance?”
She took a moment to decide if it was a good idea or not. He seems nice enough. I mean, if he was trying to get into my pants, he would have poured me another glass.
Seeming to make up her mind, she finished the cider in one breath and said, “Sure, if you think you can handle this.”
He chuckled, gray eyes glinting. Then he held out his arm and led her into the chaos.
* * *
Soren hadto admit that Braxten was a good dancer, and an appropriate one at that. He only let his hands roam when Soren took the lead and did not press their bodies together until she made a joke about him dancing as though he was back in primary school.
He was friendly, and happiness radiated from behind his mask. He had light brown curls that bobbed up and down with the music, and his presence put Soren at ease. He was muscular, as were all the men from Braexmirth, she had noticed, but on the smaller side. He was still larger in comparison to her small frame but a few inches shorter than most of his brethren.
She could feel the effects of the silver drink kicking in, and her cheeks flushed. Thanks to Brax, as he preferred to be called, she was a comfortable level of aroused. Her skin tingled, and the closeness of his body to hers gave her a faint buzz, but she was not overwhelmed with the need to jump him in one of the side caverns.
As one song flowed into the next and their bodies melded together, he nuzzled her neck affectionately as they swayed. Soren let herself enjoy the rapture of it all.
She had seen Enara and Baz a few times throughout the night. They had all even danced together at one point, but Enara had not gotten the warning about the bliss, so they had “retired early.” Baz had been all smiles.
Braxten paused their dancing and left to get her some water.
This was exactly what I needed. She danced by herself, sharing smiles with the other attendees who were all grinding and gyrating around her. It was animalistic and exciting, and you could cut the sexual tension in the air with a knife.
The stars peeked out from the large hole in the roof of the cave, which also served as an escape for the smoke rising from the excessive amounts of torches lining the space. Despite the amount of bodies, the air was cool, and it felt heavenly against her oversensitive skin.
She smiled as an arm snaked around her and Braxten pressed his body back against hers. His breath tickled her ear, and a faint smell of pine needles wafted into her nose, reminding her of …
No. It can’t be.
And then his voice was speaking ever so softly into her ear, a voice like velvet drifting over her, enveloping her like cold flames, and her body stiffened.
“Hello, little bird.”