Sylar #2
I must have been quiet for too long because suddenly we’re approaching my front door, and I’m fishing for my keys. We enter my cottage, the faint smell of honey cakes drifting in the air.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I start. “I have a love for tutoring, and I love helping elves like you understand the importance behind the myths. I’m passionate about Moonscliffe Library.
Working there is such an honor.” I pause.
“To answer your question, yes, I think I have followed many of my passions. It’s just… ” my words trail off.
“It’s just that you want more,” she continues for me.
I nod. “Anyway, don’t be like me, Isolde. If you are passionate about something or someone, follow your dreams. Embrace your fear; don’t run from it.”
Her lavender eyes sparkle. “Trust me, I already have my plans in motion,” she says with a wide grin. Goddess, she’s so mysterious. Another trait she gets from Raylen, I’m sure. Isolde squeezes my arm. “Like I said, Sylar. You aren’t old. Maybe you should be taking your own advice.”
I shake my head. “My mother and sister will be here any moment. I’m sure you’ll be excited to catch up with Talia and tell her all about your last day with your tutors.” I walk into my kitchen, ignoring her wise words.
Isolde cocks her head and dramatically sniffs as if just now realizing I have something cooking in the ovens. “Dear stars, what is that heavenly smell?” Her eyes are wide, and I get the impression she never expected me, of all elves, to bake.
I close my eyes and inhale. The scent of honey cakes and fresh bread baking is stronger here. Tugging the oven mitts on, I pull the warm honey cake from the oven and place it on the counter to cool. I give her a playful shrug. “What? I like to cook.”
She peers over at the large pot on the stove and lifts the lid to see a hearty simmering broth. I used a nifty little charm to keep the fire contained within its magical perimeter, ensuring my cozy little home was safe while I was out. No need to burn down the whole freaking cottage.
There’s a quiet knock at my front door before it bursts open.
My younger sister, Talia, and my mother walk in, pastel skirts swishing behind them.
Talia immediately spots Isolde and pulls her best friend into a hug.
“Honey,” Mother says in greeting. “Did you hear the news? The whole town is buzzing with it.”
I shake my head. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
Isolde laughs. “Raylen is coming home for his nameday celebration!”
Both Mother and Talia cheer, looking suspiciously more excited than they should be.
“After the Everend Market, he’ll be traveling home,” Isolde continues, but I can barely hear her over the blood rushing to my ears. My face flushes hot as Mother and Talia continue to jump up and down. Goddess, why am I reacting like this? Wait, why are they?
Mother wraps Isolde in a warm hug. “This is wonderful news, sweetheart.” She guides both Talia and Isolde to my oak table.
The three of them sit. “We’ll start preparing for the celebrations immediately.
Does he still spell his name with a ‘y’ or did he change it again?
Are his pronouns still he/him? Oh dear, we don’t have much time before leaving for the marriage market, but we’ll make it work. ”
My mother’s words slam into me. “Marriage market?” I ask, mind snapping to attention. Everend is more than just a marriage market. So then why did she need to drop that little word into this conversation? My head whips toward my sister. “Are you thinking of marriage? Already?”
Talia rolls her eyes. “Sylar, I think you’re forgetting that Isolde and I stayed here an extra year to finish up our studies. We are both adults. If we want to attend the marriage markets, we can.”
My blood runs cold. “Mother, are you really allowing them to go by themselves to meet some random elves?”
“Honey, your sister is right. They are both adults. At eighteen and nineteen, I can’t even stop them if I wanted to.”
“But—”
“No buts. It’s actually why we’re here today. I was hoping you would chaperone them to Everend and partake in the celebrations.”
My mouth falls open. I have only ever ventured into the chaos of Everend Market once in my entire life.
It was a suffocating, sprawling labyrinth, with thousands of elves packed into hundreds of glowing booths, colorful tents, and loud merchant stalls.
During that single, overwhelming visit, I stayed entirely clear of the predatory matchmaking zones, keeping my focus strictly on the calming sanctuary of the astrology pavilions.
“Sylar Novari, don’t you dare give me that look.”
There’s no way in hell I’m going. A million excuses fly through my mind at a rapid pace.
I even make some type of noise as the words begin to form, but my mother beats me to it.
“Before you even think to say no, I booked you a room as soon as I found out the Celestial Society is taking applications this year. In person.”
My earlier advice to Isolde floats before my mind’s eye.
‘Embrace your fear; don’t run from it.’
Well damn, if this isn’t a sign from the stars, I don’t know what is.
Thirty minutes later, I’m grumbling to myself as I pack. There’s a light knock on my bedroom door. Talia is leaning against the doorframe with a mug in hand.
“How the hell did Mother convince me to accompany you and Isolde to the marriage market?” I groan, tossing my bag onto the bed. Oh, right; one of my biggest dreams in life is being dangled right in front of my face like a tempting little treat.
She steps into my room and walks toward me, handing me the mug.
I peer inside and roll my eyes at its almost-empty state. “It’s too damn hot for tea.”
“Yeah, and you know it’s not for you to drink.
Mother did a tea leaf reading.” There’s a mischievous yet playful sparkle in Talia’s brown eyes.
It hits me then: my baby sister really is an adult.
I mean, of course she is. But as I study her now, I really see it.
Long obsidian hair that shines like the night, and shoulders thrown back in confidence.
My features used to strike me as plain, yet my sister wears them beautifully.
“I think I'm going to dye my hair red again," she says randomly. “I always got the prettiest compliments when I was a redhead.” Talia peers at me before she reaches for my bag and glances inside. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need to bring your books.”
I hum. “And what do you suggest I bring, then?” I know I sound like a child, but I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing summer.
As fascinating as parts of the Everend Market can be, I know it’s going to be busy, chaotic, and loud.
Socializing in crowds is not my forte, and I’m going to be depleted by the end of each day.
“Maybe something nice to wear?” She tugs one of my plain tunics from my bag and balls it up like she’s about to toss it in the trash. “Some colorful tunics or silks. Maybe a summer cloak? You never know, you might actually meet someone who catches your eye.”
“You’re starting to sound like our mother, you know that, right?”
She squeals, throwing my balled-up tunic at my head. “You take that back!”
I grin. “Sorry, little sister, but the truth hurts.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Regardless. You might end up meeting someone. You need to look your best. Plus, we’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.”
“Fine.” I cross the room and fling open my wardrobe, only to freeze.
A profound frown takes over my face as I realize my entire collection of tunics is a dismal sea of ink-stained black and mud-brown.
I wince. Dear goddess, I’ll look less like an eligible bachelor at the market and more like a mourning hermit.
“Whatever. I don’t really need to impress a bunch of sweaty archers and overzealous inventors, anyway.”