Seniia accepts one with a graceful nod.
I inhale deeply—whatever it is, it smells wonderful, like rich spices and honey.
“Can I have one?” I ask.
Seniia throws me a sideways glance, but the matron lights up.
“Of course, m’dear.” She hands me one of the delicate clay cups, and my mouth instantly waters at the scent of cinnamon, honey, and something else I can’t quite place.
The cup is tiny, so I down it all at once, the way Seniia just did.
I lick my lips. “That’s delicious. What is it?”
Vilder clears his throat, and Seniia winces, but the matron just chuckles.
“Spiced blood, m’dear. Keeps ya strong while ya bleed.”
I blink. The Reans are drinking blood. The minister was right all along. Still, they don’t appear to be dangerous.
“Oh, come now, Laïna.” Seniia tugs at my sleeve. “It’s harmless.”
A new tune fills the air in a rhythm that’s hard to ignore, and Seniia raises her arms above her head, moving her hips to the beat alluringly. Spinning to face us, she beckons with her fingers. “Come! Let’s dance.”
I shoot Vilder a desperate look, but he only leans back against the city wall, his amusement telling me he won’t lift a finger.
“Eh... next one?” I shout over the music as she twirls into the crowd, laughing. I can’t believe I drank blood. My stomach churns—though whether from revulsion or something else, I’m not sure. It didn’t taste bad. If anything, it tasted... nourishing.
My gaze glides across the buildings and many vendor wagons covered with colorful flags and flower garlands that match the ribbons of the tall pole at the center, but my stomach instantly drops when my eyes find a huge pyre. Are they sacrificing people after all? Is that how they get their blood? A Rean male with pale blue hair and skin the color of sun-kissed earth lifts his hands, and an enormous fire blazes into life to the cheers of the onlookers. I flinch. How easy it would be to kill with powers like that. You wouldn’t even need a pyre to torch someone to death. The smell of burning wood fills the air as the logs crackle and pop, and suddenly, I’m back in Bronich again, forced to watch innocent people perish in flames, their cries a haunting echo I can never outrun. Scrambling backward, I hit a solid structure.
Two hands grab my shoulders, the touch—gentle, yet firm—grounding me back in the present.
“Hey, you all right?” It’s Vilder. He gives my shoulders another gentle squeeze.
This is not Bronich, I remind myself. No one will be burned. People look happy.You are free.I press my lips into a thin line. As free as I can be with Llyr’s soulbinding hanging over me. What does he want from me? The thought of his betrayal almost pushes me into another abyss of despair.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” I shake myself out of my stupor and immediately step away. My outfit is indecent enough—no need to partake in unseemly behavior as well.
“Are you sure?” His gaze moves from my face to the pyre and back again. “Do theyburnpeople in the Voidlands?” His expression tells me everything I need to know: That is not a common custom here.
I inhale deeply, suppressing the persistent unease just below the surface. “They do.”
Vilder looks horrified.
I shrug. It is what it is. “So, what are we celebrating?” I say, eager to change the topic.
He glances at me, a flicker of something in his eyes, but seeing Seniia twirl her way back to where we stand, he lets it pass. “See Tiran, the green moon next to Niia, the Celestial Moon?” He points to the sky. “As you can see, the two of them are the only full moons tonight. Sa’mahta happens the moment the two moons peak in unison. And although Tiran is a lesser goddess and rules the element of Earth, the festival is mostly in honor of Rea, the goddess of the land, and Wyr, the god who fertilizes the land,” he says.
“Reans and humans alike will come from all over Rea to take part in the festival or to receive Rea’s and Wyr’s blessings,” Seniia says as she throws her arms around our shoulders. Or around my shoulders, at least. Her other arm wraps around Vilder’s waist—he’s too tall for anything else. “Anyone else thirsty?”
“I am,” I say, then quickly add, “I can pay.” I reach for the coin purse at my belt. “You have been more than kind enough already...”
She waves my offer away. “Drinks on me,” she says, grabbing Vilder. “He’ll help me carry. You wait here and enjoy the show.”
The crowd absorbs them, and I go on to watch the cheerful dancers in front of me. For a while, I follow a young couple as they spin around the circle, then avert my gaze when they share a deep kiss. Somehow, it seems like everything forbidden in Bronich is more than encouraged here.
I’m staring at the swarm of people, searching for any signs of Seniia and Vilder, when a tall figure reclining in the shadows on the outskirts of the square catches my attention. He’s wearing a midnight-blue cloak, and it’s hard to make out his features under the shade of his hood. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something strangely familiar about him—the way he casually brushes his dark blue waves away from his face, his golden complexion...
I suck in a sharp breath. It’shim, isn’t it? The man—male—from my dream.Aster.
