Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
She wasn’t even angry, not really. This feeling, it was sorrow—the part of her heart that tore itself apart when she glimpsed into Boden’s mind and saw how little he valued himself. How he would continue to sacrifice slivers of his soul for others, until there was nothing left.
Responsibilities be damned, Alvara needed to get as drunk as…well, herself three years ago.
The humans she passed on her way to the sleeping halls all donned bright, cheerful colors, and the street hummed with a vibrancy that reminded her too much of Jolval.
Alvara’s wardrobe options for the festival included her current sweaty beige shirt and brown pants, stained with what she was fairly sure was last night’s dinner, or another similarly dreary set of clothes, peppered with Vigi’s dirty pawprints that refused to come out, no matter how hard she scrubbed.
It didn’t matter. There would be no one there she wanted to impress.
She spotted Kat inside, who was securing a few twists of her curls with a silver hairpin composed of woven knots.
Her dress was breathtaking—shimmering white fabric with deep purple flowers embroidered down each side of her chest, leaving the delicate Nyrian tattoos on her sternum exposed while sheer lilac material flowed down her arms to her wrists.
How she had managed to find such a dress was beyond Alvara, but Kat deserved that and so much more for all of the tireless hours she spent each day scouting and putting herself in danger for others.
“How do you feel about getting drunk out of our minds tonight?” Alvara asked as she settled herself on top of Kat’s sleeping hide.
“Yes!” Lilja ran up to them and sat next to Alvara. She wore a simple yellow dress with white flowers, and Alvara wove a few small braids down the back of her hair as she spoke.
“I meant Kat, Lilja. But you should join us, just maybe with water instead.”
Lilja pouted. “None of you ever let me have any fun.”
“To answer your question, I am more than ready to drink my weight in ale,” Kat said. “Aurilena never wants to do anything remotely interesting.” She pointed to a package lying next to Alvara. “Also, Boden dropped off something for you. No idea what it is, but if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”
“Ooh,” Lilja said, sharing one of those looks with Kat.
Alvara rolled her eyes and picked up the present.
Boden. That was who she needed to forget, at least for tonight.
And possibly the impending war and destruction too.
Forgetting that didn’t sound too bad either.
Alvara’s fingers hovered above the folded note on top of the paper-wrapped package. Gods, just open it.
Happy Elafestir. Enjoy yourself tonight, goose. I hope the gods deem me lucky enough to have the chance to see you in this before the night is over.
The inked letters flowed and curved, almost as perfect as its creator. Alvara tossed the paper aside—she needed ale, and quick.
What had that madman bought her? She unwrapped the package and gasped. The dress. The one she had admired so many weeks ago at the market, but instead of red, it was made from an exquisite pale blue fabric, even softer than Vigi’s fur. Her favorite color.
Kat admired the dress alongside Lilja. “At least he puts his blood money to good use, buying us gifts for the holiday.”
“Gifts?” Alvara asked.
“For Elafestir,” Kat said. “It’s a human tradition. They give each other gifts to celebrate the arrival of ela. Most demi-elves don’t even celebrate it, except you-know-who. He’s normally the only one of us who does. I’m still surprised I got a hair pin out of it.”
Oh. He had bought presents for all of them…the dress, the note—it didn’t hold a deeper meaning. Not that it mattered, least of all to Alvara. Intentions aside, it was a lovely thing, and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste.
“It’s so pretty!” Lilja lifted the dress up and twirled it. “I’m definitely going to guilt him into buying me one.”
It fit like it had been made especially for Alvara.
Even the shoulders didn’t squeeze the life out of her, and every movement and swish made the white vines and flowers on the outer and inner skirt come to life.
She braided the sides of her hair back, leaving the rest unbound, and tugged out a few gray tendrils to frame her face.
“Stunning,” Kat said as she linked arms with her. “I have something I want to show you. Lilja, we’ll meet you at the chief’s meeting hall?” She patted Alvara’s arm as they exited the sleeping hall. “If you hate it, you can drink enough ale for ten men and forget it for eternity.”
The painting punched Alvara in the gut. She dug her fingernails into Kat’s sleeve. They stood at the far side of town, where the houses that had survived the raid grew smaller with each step, each crafted in the same plain wooden upturned boat style, except this one.
Kat didn’t have to say a word for Alvara to know that it had been Eloisa.
The creatures and plants of Vorianta swirled and swayed across each plank of wood, painted in varying shades of blue and white.
Reindeer, wolves, ice foxes, and at the center, a domineering ice bear with the same blue eyes as Alvara.
Some had been scorched by flames, chunks missing where King Einar’s elves had struck, but each curve and curl still left gouged another hole in her.
Her sister had traveled all this way, left the elven realm, and Alvara hadn’t even known. The painted symbols blurred together under a thin veil of tears.
“She would have been proud of you, you know.” Kat removed her arm from Alvara’s grip and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Alvara settled her head into her friend. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“You gave up everything to help the people she faded for. If that wouldn’t make her proud, then I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did.
” Kat’s voice wobbled, and she took a long breath.
“She saved this family’s daughter, and they wanted to repay her.
You know Eloisa, she only wanted to use the chance to create more beauty for everyone else to enjoy.
So, they let her paint their home. A reminder of her and of all the good we can do together instead of separate. ”
Eloisa had always created beauty just by breathing, and Alvara…well, she spent her time forging weapons that could damage and kill. If that didn’t define them perfectly, she didn’t know what did.
“Ever since she passed, the world has seemed dimmer, emptier,” Alvara whispered. “Some days I still don’t know if I’ll ever accept that she’s gone. I miss her.”
“Me too.”
Alvara soaked in her sister’s memory for as long as she could stand, clinging to Kat. It wasn’t something she would have been able to face alone—they both knew that. She found herself wanting to share this piece of her family, herself, with Boden. But not today.
Cheeks dripping with tears and heart wrung dry, she stood up straight and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. “I want to forget, at least for today.” And she did. All she wanted was a few hours free from all the weight that dragged her down.
Kat smoothed out her dress and gave Alvara a smile that could only mean trouble. “Say no more.”
The villagers had transformed the hall into a revelers’ paradise.
Ale and mead flowed freely, tumbling out of cups and horns, and from the raucous laughter echoing through the room, it seemed that more than a few of the humans had chosen to start celebrating quite early in the day.
Some sang (though it sounded more like shouting) and twirled in circles to the beat of drums and the plucking of lyres, while others tossed axes at large boards of wood.
In the center of the room stood a long table piled high with food Alvara could have only dreamed of for the past few weeks: roast mutton and boar, buttered vegetables, dried fruits, and most importantly, honey cakes. She wrinkled her nose as she passed a plate full of some dreadful kind of fish.
Luckily, the fresh scent of the decorations outshined the rancid seafood. It looked as though someone had dragged the forest indoors and hung the greenery in plentiful bunches on the walls and draped it down tables and over chairs. It smelled of life, growth, and Boden.
Alvara snatched a pleasantly large cup of liquid that burned her nose and would hopefully do the same to her thoughts.
“Cheers.” Kat tapped her drink against Alvara’s and took a small sip.
That was not the kind of pace Alvara needed for a night to escape. She pushed a deep breath into her lungs and chugged half of her drink. The sweet liquid tingled its way down her throat, just like she remembered. The best way to forget.
“You weren’t joking about getting drunk tonight,” Kat said, eyebrows raised.
Alvara shoved a small cake into her mouth and pointed toward the circle of dancers.
She grabbed her friend’s arm with one hand, mead in the other, and tugged her into the crowd, where they found Lilja already dancing away.
The music rattled the floorboards, thrumming in Alvara’s ears.
She let the melody carry her far away, surrendering total control.
It knew better than she did how to properly celebrate the festivities.
Even Pyry had joined the celebrations, spending most of it at Oda’s side, except when he tried in vain to convince Alvara to discard her alcohol.
“Alva, it’s been years since you gave up drinking.” He knew from Jalomir, no doubt, all the effort she had put into resisting its allure. Pyry looked pointedly to the mead in her hand and frowned. “It’s not worth starting again just for a festival.”
But she didn’t want logic tonight. She didn’t want to think. “I haven’t had much.” The slight slur to her words betrayed her, and his frown deepened.
“Where is bear man?” Oda scrunched her nose.
Pyry let out a soft chuckle, so reminiscent of the younger, freer version of himself. Spending time with Oda really had done wonders on him. “She means Boden.”
Alvara grimaced and took another swig of mead.