“I had intended to stay with Ma.”
“Our house is much closer to the tavern, Lis. I insist.” Brighde started rummaging in the kitchen drawers. “Here, a spare key.” She pressed it into Aloisia’s palm. “We’ll likely leave before you lot, so just let yourself in when you’re done.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I won’t hear any more of it. You are family.”
Aloisia grinned, slipping the spare key into the purse at her belt. She dropped her leathers atop the bed in the spare room with her weapons and returned to grab the cask. Brighde was right. Whilst it wasn’t big, no larger than a cat, it also wasn’t light. Aloisia cradled it to her chest and made for the door.
“Are you sure it’s not too heavy?” Brighde asked.
“Yes, it’s fine. The tavern isn’t far.”
The Hawk’s Head lay only a few streets away. They knocked on the door and the owner, Nikolaj, opened it moments later. He ushered them in.
“Through the back, you know where everything is,” Nikolaj said, returning to mopping the floor.
“Thanks, Nik,” Aloisia called over her shoulder, hurrying to their reserved table in the back room.
Nik had even set out another table for the cake and gifts. The ginger loaf took pride of place in the centre, with the few gifts Aloisia had brought earlier set around it. She placed the cask amongst them with the sweetrolls.
“All right, on to the florist to collect the decorations,” Aloisia said.
The florist and the tavern were only a couple streets apart and, between the pair of them, they barely had enough hands to carry the garlands. Each one was a mix of reds, golds, and oranges. With Nikolaj’s help, Aloisia draped one over the high-set fireplace nearby their table, whilst Brighde made a centre piece of another. The third was set around the cake and gifts.
“I think that’s everything.” Aloisia regarded the transformed room.
“It’s wonderful,” Brighde said. “The flowers really brighten up the space.”
Aloisia bounced lightly on her feet. She wanted everything to be perfect for Tristan, so he would never forget such a momentous day.
“Come.” Brighde clasped Aloisia’s shoulders. “Let us relax until the party. I imagine it will be a late night. Later for you lot, most likely.”
“Yes, good idea.”
Aloisia gave a final glance around the room and, finally, allowed Brighde to drag her out of the tavern.
Aloisia paced outside the Temple for the second time. Once again, she had arrived early, though not as exceptionally early as the sermon. The evening sun was quickly retreating, and it cast shadows across the green in its wake. Dusk turned the world soft around her, smudging the sharp edges of buildings and blurring the spires of the Temple with the dimming light. A blanket of darkness gradually descended as she waited, the last slivers of sunlight withdrawing from the sky like fingers curling into a fist.
The bells tolled out seven and she paused, turning to face the Temple doors. Time ticked onwards in the silence wrought by the absence of the bells. Aloisia began pacing again. Eventually, the temple doors creaked open. Golden light spilled out over the green. Closing the doors behind him, plunging the green back into the darkness of evening, Tristan raced down the flagstone path, a grin beaming on his face.
“Look, look!” He held out a large circular pendant the size of his palm, emblazoned with a nine-pointed star, which now dangled from his neck.
Aloisia cradled her hands around his, brushing her thumb over the engraved design. “It’s official then?”
He nodded. His hair was damp and sticking out in places, as if he had hastily run a cloth over it.
“So, did they actually just dunk you in the pond?”
He breathed a laugh. “There was a bit more to it. And it’s not a pond.”
“It’s a lot like a pond.”
Tristan set the pendant back beneath his shirt and flung an arm over Aloisia’s shoulders. “Where to then?”
“Follow along, squire. I will show you the way.”
“As you will,” he said.
