It wasloud—music came from at least six different directions, drifting over the shouts of vendors hawking their wares—but it was the aromas that I found the most distracting. Someone was smoking meat somewhere close, and someone else was selling something that smelled sweet and cinnamony.
Why can’t more of our adventures include food?I wondered glumly, wishing I’d eaten more of last night’s lamb supper.Am I the only one around here who gets hangry if she’s not fed on a regular schedule?
“I’d forgotten what day it was,” Octavian said beside me.
“Hm?” I looked up.
“The Hill Festival begins tonight,” he said. “It’s Ring-Around-the-Hill’s biggest event of the year. We’ll be lucky if we find an available room for the night.”
The girl had sharper ears than I realized, because she turned back toward us. “You can stay with us, don’t worry.”
It was unclear from Octavian’s expression whether or not he was relieved by that news. Meanwhile, I was starting to study the town around us with renewed interest.
“You mean this place isn’t normally this…crazy?” I asked.
“Ring-Around-the-Hill is always bustling,” Octavian said. “I assumed it had just become more so since—” He cut himself off before he could let anything slip within earshot of the girl. “Since the last time I was here.”
Our guide had dropped back beside us, in part because of the press of people around us and in part because she obviously wanted to join the conversation.
“Wait, have you never been to a Hill Festival before?” she asked, addressing me for the first time since she'd run into me.
“No.” Admitting that felt safe enough.
“Oh, you’re going to love it!” she said. “There’s feasting and dancing all night long. And the pageant is supposed to be unforgettable this year.”
I had to admit, her enthusiasm was catching—not that I really needed a push to get excited about what was essentially a real-life Ren Faire. After two days of running from things trying to kill me, the thought of experiencing this side of Therador—all things delightful, decadent, and luscious—sounded too tempting to resist.
“Can we go?” I asked Octavian. “Just for a little while?”
Octavian hesitated, and I knew what he was thinking—that maybe frolicking about a festival when there were powerful people who wanted our blood wasn’t the smartest idea in the world—but after a moment, one corner of his mouth tilted up.
“I hope so,” he replied, and his eyes flashed with the same warm, intoxicating charm I’d seen on the first night we’d met, when he’d held me close and twirled me around the dance floor and invited me to indulge in thesmall pleasuresof life. It was clear thathewas no more immune to the attraction of the Hill Festival than I was.
That flutter in my chest intensified, spreading all the way down into the pit of my belly.
Be careful, I reminded myself again.Don’t become so enchanted by the rose that you forget about the thorns.
But I could already feel the vines entangling me, twining around my heart. And I knew, deep in my gut, that no matter how many warnings I gave myself about these brothers, I was already caught.
29
Beneath the Hill
TheHilllookedevenmore otherworldly up close—its shape too perfect, the grass on its slopes too green and too lush.
Above, the giant, blue-tinged oak towered over it all, its long, twisted branches casting strange shadows down the slopes beneath. From here, looking up from below, I could see that the tree wasn’t just a tree—there were platforms and walkways among the branches, making it look like some sort of large, enchanted treehouse.
I wonder if we can go up there.I filed that question away to ask Octavian once he was convinced we were safe.
The girl led us along the base of the Hill, following the town’s innermost, perfectly round road. It wasn’t long before we came to a large stone archway built right into the side of the Hill’s grassy slope. The crowds were just as thick here as they were in every other part of Ring-Around-the-Hill, and even though the archway was, by my wager, big enough for two semi-trucks to drive through side-by-side, there was still a bit of a traffic jam going in and out.
Octavian pulled me closer to him, right against his warm, muscular side.
“Stay close,” he murmured to me. “Hold on to me no matter what.”
There were worse things than being snuggled up against Octavian, despite the warnings my head kept sending me. He slid his arm around my waist so the crowd couldn’t pull us away from each other, and I resisted the urge to lean into him, to rest my head on his shoulder like some sort of lovesick teenager.
Octavian, meanwhile, was back on full alert. From where we were pressed together, I could feel that his body was completely rigid with vigilance, and his azure gaze darted in every direction, scanning for potential threats.
