My gaze dropped to her plate, untouched. “Food is getting cold.”
Both of us took a few bites, neither making a sound other than the forks scraping.
“So,” Ariana broke the silence while pushing some food around her dish. “This time is intended for what? For us to learn more about one another?”
“Ideally,” I replied, leaning back, making myself more comfortable while looking at her.
The chair Ariana sat in rose well above her head and shoulders, making her look so small and delicate. Though I was well aware that things were not always what they appeared.
“Who asks the first question?” She tilted her head, waiting for a response. An air of curiosity surrounded her.
“You can go ahead.”
“What do you fear the most?”
“There is nothing,” I answered nearly immediately with a smirk. I indeed harbored fears, but they would not be shared with anyone, certainly not a Bavadrin woman. The question was ridiculous, and she could not have expected any other answer.
Her eyes narrowed. “That is a lie, but fine. I will ask something that does not make you feel less masculine if you tell the truth.” She tapped a finger against the glass in her hand. “Tell me about the white night.”
That sparked my interest. The white night was tied deeply within my culture. I was not aware that the Bavadrin stories held that information.
“Anything in particular you wish to know?” I asked, surprised that she even knew of it.
Ariana studied me as she considered her words. “I know that we are told to stay inside and far from the Lysian border on that night. Our stories paint the Lysians as going mad by the light of the moon, tearing everything apart. That you become more unhinged than usual.”
A smirk pulled at my lips at that, more unhinged than usual.“And is that what you believe to be true?”
“I think there is some truth to it. There is a reason for the warnings.” She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to fill in some of the holes to complete or confirm what she already believed she knew.
“On that night, the moon is the closest to us out of the entire year and full enough to cast a white light that is so bright it chases most of the night away. Lysians are linked deeply to the planet and its phases. We do not go mad, but we tend to act more on our instincts. Most of the Lysians who have scars on their bodies gotthem on the white night. Lysians become more territorial, which certainly could bleed into viciousness and a need to prove superiority through physical means.” I smiled and added, “But it can also be a night of far more pleasure. Whatever one is in the mood for.”
“What do you typically do on the white night?” she asked, her green gaze unwavering, unfazed by what I said.
“I used to have fun.” I shrugged a single shoulder. It was once one of my favorite nights of the year when I could run wild with Kole, Eislyn, my sister, and my brothers. However, that life felt foreign now.
“Used to?” Her brows drew together in question.
“The past few years, I joined my father, who patrolled the border between our lands. I will now continue that tradition on my own.”
“You patrol the border?” she asked, surprise clear in her tone.
“Yes. We wanted to make sure some Lysian drunk off the freedom given by the white night did not feel free to risk the consequences of creating trouble in your lands. And that is still something I feel is true for today.”
She nodded, glancing at the windows and outside in thought. “My people, and the Lysians watching them. Will they be safe?” The white night was nearly two months away, it would be upon us in no time.
“Yes. The guards there are good. They will not create trouble and will do what they are told. Your people will be safe, and you, too, will be safe. The guards will probably be more tense that day but will not unjustly cause harm.”
Ariana reached for her glass again and finished off what water was left.
I felt as though we needed a change of topic. The goal of this time spent together was not to further upset her. Instead, it was partially to attempt to build a bridge between us so that she would be more willing to follow my lead.
“What do you think of our food?” I asked, realizing that I had no idea whether the things we ate differed from what she was accustomed to.
A subtle smile found its way to her lips. “It’s fine. You eat basically the same things we do. It’s just very separated.”
“Separated?”
“Yes. For instance, you have a plate of meat, one of mushrooms, bell peppers, pickled tomatoes . . .” She moved her hand out over the table, gesturing to each she mentioned. “It’s all served individually here, while we typically combine a few of these to make a dish.”
