Prologue #2
Castien and I left the stall. I did not know what to say to him when we first left.
I made comments about the stalls we passed.
They were all booths from Gearwick, and he seemed to know details about all of the creations they held.
He told me about how some of their science worked, some of the magic they possessed.
It was a different kind of magic, one I’d never understood, but I found that I enjoyed listening to him talk about it.
He possessed great intelligence.
His demeanor changed as we left the shops specializing in what he knew. It was subtle at first. We stepped onto a lane of booths full of astrological wares. His eyes brightened as he saw a chart of the stars, but he had no commentary to offer on them.
I did, though, because I loved the constellations and the stories that went alongside them.
One of the adults in the family I stayed with when Mother and Father typically came to market had come from Dun Steorra.
At night, he would gather us under the stars and tell us not only their stories, but the stories from Emberleigh and Gearwick as well.
He’d tell us old stories that were nearly forgotten too, from when all elves were one.
“Did you know the meanings behind the stars have changed?” I told him as I looked down at one of the charts.
“The stories, I mean. There’s a man in my village who knows them all. ”
“Do you know them?” he asked.
“A few,” I admitted. “Are you camping at Portage Point?” He nodded. “Meet me at the river after market tonight, and I will tell you some of them. They are best at night.”
His smile transformed his face into a work of beauty.
I had never found another person beautiful before, and it was a strange feeling.
I found myself wanting to see that smile again, and I spent the rest of our time exploring the market trying to draw it out.
I thought, maybe, we would be able to explore together for the entirety of the market day, but Mother came and found me when we ventured too close to the apothecary stalls.
She dragged me back by my wrist and shouted at me for wandering away.
She pulled me behind the stall and lectured me about the dangers of the world, of what could happen to a young elf who wandered the markets without his parents knowing where he was.
But when it was over, she told me I could meet Castien at the river that night, so long as I stayed within sight of the camp.
My heart raced as night fell. I changed from the simple tunic I’d been wearing and into the purple one I’d packed, all while Mother and Father nudged at one another and exchanged secret glances I could not translate.
I ran a comb through my hair. I wanted to look as beautiful as I found his smile, and I did not think I was accomplishing it.
Mother watched as I walked away from the tent, reminding me that I was to stay within sight of the camp and not cross the river or go anywhere else.
When I reached the river, I sat beside it and waited, eyes trained on the sky. I was afraid he wouldn’t come. I did not understand the fear, the weight in my stomach at the idea that he would not come to hear about the stars.
But he did.
He was silent in his approach, and I did not know he was there until he was sitting beside me. “Tell me about the stars, Oleander,” he requested.
I leaned back into the dewy grass, feeling the moisture through the thin fabric of my tunic.
He followed suit, and I began pointing out stars.
I told him the tales, talking quietly as I told him stories about warriors and great loves.
I watched him from the corner of my eye, choosing my stories based on his reaction.
As I told him the story of a great inventor from Gearwick, I felt his eyes on me.
It was a heavy weight, like the thick quilt filled with heavy wool that Mother had gifted me for my first Naming Day.
It held the same warmth, a warmth I felt spread throughout my entire body, but I didn’t feel any of the comfort the quilt gave me.
Instead, I felt like there was a knot in my stomach.
My blood felt funny in my veins, and I wondered if I was falling ill.
Mother would know, and Mother would be able to give me a magical remedy.
Father would know, and he would prescribe herbs to make me feel better.
But when I caught Castien’s eye, I did not want Mother’s magic or Father’s herbs. I did not want anything beyond looking at him. He was more captivating than the stars above us.
I caught myself looking at his lips. I had never noticed another’s lips before.
They were full and symmetrical, and they looked soft.
I reached out, delicately thumbing over them.
His breath caught, and I wondered if I had crossed some line.
I started to withdraw my hand, but his fingers wrapped around my thin wrist. He pulled me in close, and I felt his full lips press against mine.
A kiss.
The stories talked about them, but they did not do this feeling justice.
How could any stories describe the way warmth raced through my veins or the way my heart stirred?
How could any tales capture the feeling of his lips against mine, soft but chapped?
They did not talk about how my heart would stutter and race, or about how, when he pulled away, I would follow his lips for another taste.
His tongue slipped past the seam of my lips, and the taste of herbs and berries and nectar exploded in my mouth. I breathed in through my nose, and I smelled campfire and metal and musk. The sounds of the campground faded to nothingness.
No story had prepared me to feel the world fade away.
We kissed until I heard Father call my name in the distance. I brushed grass from my trousers and pulled myself from the ground, offering a hand to him to help him up. After he stood, he pressed his lips to mine one more time, and we separated.
I hoped I would see him again before my family left Everend Market.
Unfortunately, the fates did not allow it, but I knew I would never forget the boy at the market.