"I'm fine." She forced a smile, pushing away the phantom voice. "Just nervous. I've never been to anything like this."
He squeezed her arm gently. "If it becomes too much, we can leave anytime. There's no obligation to stay."
No obligation. No commands. Just choice. The contrast made her throat tight with emotion she couldn't afford to feel.
"Thank you," she said. "But I want to see it. All of it."
While I still can,she didn't add.
Music drifted through the halls as they walked, growing louder with each turn. Her stomach fluttered with unexpected nervousness. What if she didn't belong here either? What if kindness was just another cage with prettier bars?
The thought vanished the moment they entered the courtyard.
Lanterns hung from every tree, casting warm light that made the whole space glow. Tables groaned under the weight of food, real food that looked and smelled exactly as it should. Musicians played on a raised platform, their music wild and joyful, nothing like the calculated performances in Eliam's hall. And everywhere, fae danced with abandon, laughter mixing with the music.
No one stared at her with hunger or calculation. No one watched for mistakes to exploit. They were just... celebrating.
"You came!" A young fae with antlers grabbed her hands before she could respond. "The Harvest Festival! Three days of dancing before winter arrives!"
"Three days?" The irony cut deep.
"It's the best celebration of the year! Come on, they're starting the circle dances!"
The fae pulled her along before she could protest. Arion's laugh followed them, warm and genuine.
The dancing was chaos, wonderful, liberating chaos. No prescribed steps, no watching eyes waiting for mistakes. Partners switched with dizzying speed, and she found herself passed from hand to hand, spinning until the stars on her dress blurred with the lantern light. When she stumbled, someone steadied her with a laugh. When she stepped on toes, her partner just adjusted and kept moving.
Joy bubbled up in her chest, unexpected and almost painful in its intensity. When had she last felt this? This freedom? This simple happiness?
"May I cut in?"
Arion appeared beside her current partner, who yielded with a knowing grin. His hand found hers, warm and steady, and suddenly the chaotic reel shifted into something slower. Around them, couples paired off for a more intimate dance.
"Left foot first," he murmured. "Follow my lead."
She did, finding it surprisingly natural. He guided her through the unfamiliar steps with patience, his hand light at her waist. Other dancers swirled past in rivers of color, but gradually the world narrowed to just this: his hand in hers, the music washing over them, the strange sense of rightness she couldn't name.
"Thank you, again, Arion," she said quietly. "For all of this. For showing me kindness when you had no reason to."
"You don't need to thank me for basic decency."
"In my experience, I do."
Something shifted in his expression, understanding mixed with anger that wasn't directed at her. His hand tightened slightly on hers.
The song ended, but they didn't immediately separate. They stood there in the middle of the celebration, caught in a moment that felt borrowed from someone else's life.
"Come," he said finally, voice rougher than before. "You should eat something."
The festival food was pure joy, roasted chestnuts smooth and buttery, cider that warmed from within, tiny cakes decorated with candied flowers that dissolved sweetly on her tongue. No tests. No tricks. Just food meant to be enjoyed.
"Ring toss!" someone called. "Who's brave enough to challenge the champion?"
The champion turned out to be Sian, who grinned wickedly as she landed ring after ring on increasingly impossible targets. A small crowd had gathered, their cheers punctuated by groans of disbelief each time another wooden ring settled perfectly over a bottle neck. The bottles were arranged in a chaotic scatter across the booth's counter, some close, some ridiculously far, and Sian never seemed to look at them for more than a heartbeat before releasing her throw.
Briar watched the water sprite's wrist flick, casual and confident, sending another ring sailing through the air thick with woodsmoke and the yeasty scent of festival beer. It wobbled, caught an invisible eddy, and dropped true.
"It's all about reading the currents," Sian explained when Briar tried and failed spectacularly, her ring clattering against the side of a bottle before bouncing away. "Even air has currents, if you know how to see them." She plucked another ring from the pile and pressed it into Briar's hand, her fingers cool to the touch. "Though in your case, I think the problem is that you're aiming."
