Chapter Fifty-Eight #2
Green overtook Eldrick’s senses—Tovi’s emerald dress, forest spruce—but nothing compared to the jade in her eyes, ensnaring deep into his soul.
The two didn’t whisper a word, silent as their gazes never left the other.
They twisted to the thrums of the harp, turned to the tune of the splendid flute.
By the third song, Eldrick showed Tovi simple footwork, and they joined the circle of dancers, overcome with laughter as they spun hand in hand with the Drabek pack. When the fourth song turned sad and slow, Eldrick pulled her close again, and Tovi melted into him, hand molding perfectly to his.
“Welcome to your first Dísablót,” he whispered into her ear.
“What exactly does it honor?” Tovi asked, eyes alight with such curiosity Eldrick swore the first glimpses of spring sprouted in her irises.
“Warriors, female ancestors, and the winter season we’ve made it through and the spring harvest still to come.”
“You celebrate halfway through?” she whispered.
Eldrick marveled at the joy lighting Tovi’s features.
“Yes. We also honor fate herself, the one that carries us forward with each passing season. It is good to give thanks even in the harshest of winters, for spring always arrives. Thanks to fate. Ancient songs and ballads say our female ancestors ride along with her, too.”
“Fate,” Tovi molded the word on her lips, “I’ve never heard of it as an actual entity. Is she a goddess?”
Eldrick shook his head as they continued to dance. “No. She’s as elusive as time and passes like the seasons. She moves on the wind as a bluster or a breeze. Tales claim she’s older than the Moon God, that perhaps she is even the mother of the gods.”
“You speak of it with such pride,” Tovi said. “Like you truly believe it all.”
The edges of Eldrick’s lips tugged into a smile.
“How can I not? Look at it all.” He gazed at the gathering, peered up at the trees, and turned in the direction of the mountain peaks, cloaked in the night.
“The Vadon Mountains are a wonder—werewolves, too. My people have stayed true to their roots. Fate, the Moon God, the land. We honor and prosper, and I can’t help but find that magical, shifting and abilities aside. ”
Tovi reared slightly back, the glisten in her eyes dimming such a fraction as she roamed over his face. Her expression slacked. Had Eldrick said something wrong? Eldrick’s heart dropped like a stone in his belly.
Tovi shut her eyes, a small smile spreading across her beautiful face.
“The way you love your people and home is one of the many things I admire you for, Eldrick.” Her tone and words were true, but that smile—it was forced.
“I hope one day, in Drystan, vampyrs can have the same culture, the same pride and celebrations werewolves have.”
Eldrick laughed, trying to breathe out the unease prickling across his skin.
“Perhaps you celebrate Dísablót? Fate is for all of Sorin, I dare to say even Torren, not just the Vadon Mountains and the werewolves. She is everywhere, in all the lands. Besides, everyone should honor their female warriors, no?”
Tovi sighed. “I fear vampyrs still have a ways to catch up in how they treat their females.”
“A queen will shift things, Tovi,” Eldrick whispered. “You already have.”
“I know,” she whispered, mouth remaining open as if she debated on saying something else.
“Eldrick!” a large hand grasped his shoulder and gave it a generous squeeze.
Bétar grinned at them both, Yen standing at his side with sweat soaking her wheat-colored hair.
“Care to grab a glass of wine?” she asked Tovi. “I could use a break from the dancing.”
“Avoid the wine.” Eldrick released her. “Trust me, dove. Stick to the ale tonight. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Bétar laughed. “Aye, a true gentlemen! He is right. The wine is rather potent this far south.”
Yen rolled her eyes. “Overprotective males. Ale it is, I guess. Maybe even a slice of meat pie—I’m starved.”
Tovi laughed, but that light, that joy Eldrick had seen earlier was gone. Something plagued her mind. Eldrick felt it in his bones. But what? Were her worries regarding Drystan’s future? What he’d told her of fate?
“Thank you for dancing,” Tovi said before Yen dragged her away.
Her words rang like a goodbye. Eldrick paused, never losing sight of her as she weaved out of the dancing crowd, whispered something into Yen’s ear—who’s lips down turned and shoulders slumped—and headed back into the village, leaving the festival in a rush.
Eldrick’s insides backflipped. How could such a magical night also feel like shadows closed in around him?
“Do you want my advice?” Bétar asked, hand still gripping his shoulder.
Eldrick grunted, eying his friend. “You’re going to give it to me anyway, why ask?”
Bétar shrugged. “I like to hear that you want it.”
Moons. Eldrick palmed his heart. “Tell me, Commander, what is on your mind?”
Bétar released him, beaming as he crossed his arms. “Go after her.”
Rightness.
It thrummed through him like power—there was no question on what he needed to do.
No, he didn’t have the exact answer, but he had choice and the strength.
He knew Tovi like breathing, recognized a fear she didn’t share.
She was guarded, reserved, and if was something close to her heart, she’d not utter a word of it.
He had to show her it was alright—that he’d be there for her. No matter what.
“Thank you.” He eyed Bétar as he backed out of the crowd. “Oh wise Commander.”
His friend’s boisterous laughter followed him through the crowd, filling each of Eldrick’s steps with jittery confidence.