“Besides, we don’t marry, wemate,” she continues, swirling the purple wine in her glass. It smells of something floral and sweet, like lavender and rose.
“Marrying is such an institutionalized thing to do, don’t you think? Like writing your name on a paper seals anything at all.”
A server weaves past our table with a tray of steaming food, and my hunger must show on my face as I watch him head to the bar, because Seniia pushes her plate of food toward me. “Here, have some.”
I stare at the plate of ham, cheese, butter, and warm buns while Vilder mumbles something about me growing up under a rock but otherwise says nothing. He seems to be the brooding type. I grab one of the warm buns and add the butter.
“I mean, how can you evenknowif the other one is your mate unless your heart and soul are bonded?” Seniia stares at me, perfectly shaped eyebrows raised high.
I shrug. “It’s mostly to forge alliances between families, I believe.” Loving marriages are a rarity in Bronich. Never mind that it’s illegal to show any affection outside of the home.
She munches her bun, nodding thoughtfully. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get Laïna something to drink?” she says, turning to Vilder, unfazed by his brooding demeanor.
To my surprise, he does as she asks, and soon I have a large pewter mug of spiced cider. Are all Reans this welcoming? I take a sip, cherishing the mixture of sweetness and spice. The flavors are as foreign to me as everything else, but it tastes delicious.
“So, how do you two know each other?” I gesture toward them.
“We don’t,” Seniia says with a shrug. “Every other table was full, so I was stuck with this one.” She tilts her head toward Vilder, who grumbles something about preferring his own company. “And now you’re stuck with us,” she adds with a grin.
“I don’t mind that.” I smile back at her. An actual genuine smile. With her carefree way and easy smiles, it’s impossible not tolike her, and for the first time in forever, the knot in my stomach starts to loosen.
The soft tones of a hand harp fill the air, and our attention shifts to the podium as a new performer graces the stage. This time the tavern hushes into absolute silence, and it’s easy to understand why. Each string she plucks seems to tell its own story, and I’m as captivated as everyone else as she starts to sing a heart-wrenching melody about a pair of mated lovers, bound by fate, where one perishes while the other, cursed with immortality, remains forever devoted to their lost mate.
“What a lovely performance,” Seniia says, wiping her eyes as conversations resume around us. “Makes me happy I’m not immortal.”
Vilder grunts. “It was all right.”
She swats at him. “She did more than all right, you grump!”
A log shifts in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. I flinch, my stomach recoiling at the familiar sound. Then the tavern door swings open, letting in a gust of flower-scented night air and festival music, reminding me to breathe again. Reminding me I’m not braced. Not in Bronich anymore. My gaze darts between the two of them.
“So, uh, are you from here?” I ask.
“No, we are both here for Sa’mahta. I’m from the island nation of Riverii, and Vilder here is from the Western Plains, from the looks of it.”
He runs his hand through his strawberry-blond hair. “True.”
I study his face carefully. It’s hard not to be captivated by his good looks. His messy hair adds a youthful charm to his strong jawline, and the golden-red color complements his warm skin and deep russet eyes, making him even more handsome.
“See anything you like?” He quirks an eyebrow.
“I—no. I mean, yes. I mean...” Why in the name of the Father would he ask such a thing?
“Give her a break, Vilder,” Seniia chides, but I can tell she, too, is amused by my fluster.
“Where is Riverii?” I ask Seniia, grateful for her rescue. Besides her being the easiest to talk with, the Western Plains is obviously in the West.
She gives me a curious look but clarifies. “Riverii is an island nation in the South”—she gestures to the staff leaning against the wall next to her—“and I grew up at the Temple of Briah in Althëa—that’s the southernmost point of Riverii. I’m what they call a maiden-born.”
I stare at her staff. It’s similar to the one Ero had. But what is thatthingcoiling around its shaft? And is it covered in white... feathers?
“Aren’t all women maidens before giving birth?” I say, pulling my gaze away from the strange thing. Seniia bursts out laughing again, and even Vilder joins in this time. The smile lights up his face, revealing a dimple in his right cheek.
“It means that my mother was a temple maiden,” she says once she has stopped laughing. “Now she is the high priestess of the temple,” she adds with pride.
Vilder stares at me like I’m a curiosity. “First of all, they”—he points to Seniia—“are called females, not women. Second, where in the name of Zerex did you grow up?”
Right. They’re not humans. I need to remember that.
