Those were the magic words. The other girls fell all over themselves to reassure Bunny that the cider would be perfect and of course they forgave her. How could they not? They’d been friends from the cradle. Friends only wanted the best for you.
Tasia thought that Claudia looked a little incredulous with that last sentiment. Good. Maybe the poor girl would see that the others werenother friends. Then Tasia was distracted by Chara’s attempt to get outside.
The toddler had the back door open and both her bare feet in the snow before Tasia caught her. As she lifted the giggling girl into her arms, she saw a flash of movement by the tree where she met Mitch. She turned Chara toward the door and peered back. ItwasMitch. With a quick nod, she let him know she’d be there as soon as possible.
Bunny and her comforters were too occupied to notice what Chara and Tasia were doing. Tasia set the little one on the bed to dry her cold and wet toes. She then promised to get a big bowl of snow for Chara to play with inside.
Chara squealed her assent, and Tasia tried to figure out what towels were available for the mess that was coming. She slipped out the back door, armed with a mixing bowl and eager to talk to Mitch.
“Hi!” She could tell her smile was a bit too enthusiastic, but she didn’t want to tone it down. Being with Mitch made her happy.
His return smile was a little crooked and did funny things to her insides.
“Hi yourself.” A shadow crossed his eyes. “I finally made it to the cellar under the dance hall.”
A chill that had nothing to do with the snow surrounding them crept into Tasia’s limbs. Her smile fell away. “How bad is it?”
“All four walls are lined with barrels and other containers that are filled to the brim with things like oil and black powder.”
“Black powder?” Where had Tasia heard that phrase before?
“It’s explosive,” Mitch filled in. “Used in mining operations, signal flares, fireworks.”
“Explosive is bad.” A shiver shook her whole body.
“Better get inside . . . with your bowl?”
A giggle escaped her when he looked at her empty bowl with obvious confusion. “I’m collecting snow for Chara to play with inside.” The befuddlement deepened, and Tasia laughed again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She faintly heard his “Count on it” as she hurried back toward the house and scooped up a sizable load of snowflakes on the way.
Two days before the dance, the snow stopped and the skies cleared. Men worked in teams with horses and boards to clear paths. The mounds of snow on the sides were quite deep in places and froze rock-hard overnight, but until more snow fell, the villagers could get from place to place without much difficulty.
The day of the dance dawned crisp and cloud-free. Tasia didn’t know if the ice would help put out any fire traps Mitch had missed. He had been diligent, but slow by necessity, in dismantling the containers of fire-starter and accelerant around the village. He hadn’t been able to return to the cellar after that first time because there was always someone around preparing for the dance.
It seemed the decorations and other details were going to be much more elaborate than the harvest dance. Which made sense when Tasia thought about it. Diomland celebrated the new year with a substantial show of cheer, too.
Tasia knew the Galanises wouldn’t believe her, but she couldn’t help trying to warn them away from the dance. She waffled back and forth for several days because she didn’t want to tip off the informant. The chances that any of them were the traitor were slim, but Pagona and Anthi would have delighted in sharing her “folly” far and wide. Grandmother would, of course, catch wind and change her plans. Or come after her personally.
At the last moment, Tasia tentatively suggested that maybe the Galanises should stay home that evening.
“Are you joking?!” Pagona flipped her hair over one shoulder and stared at her cousin.
“The weather could change suddenly.” Tasia shrugged.
Anthi looked up from the goodies she was loading into Stavros’ arms. “I have been baking treats for three days, dear.” Her expression was full of pity. “I’m not staying home.”
The patriarch deigned to make eye contact with the relative he endured because she brought in coin and cooked his meals. “You can stay home.”
Even before the next words left her mouth, Tasia knew they were the wrong ones, “But what if something bad happens—”
“Ha!” Pagona set her hands on her hips and sneered. “The only ‘bad thing’ that might happen is you getting snubbed by everyone. Again. And that’s only bad for you.”
There was no recovering from that. Tasia watched as the family headed for the door. With Stavros at the helm, they were actually leaving a good bit before the dance started. The sun still flirted with the edge of the mountain that was just visible through the trees. He and his wife were loaded with parcels, so Pagona had to take charge of her little sister. She grabbed Chara’s hand in a death grip and kept gabbing about how good the cider was going to be this year because Bunny had helped. The door shut, cutting off the explanation that everyone had already heard ad nauseum about how Bunny’s familyonlyserves it atthisdance.
Not disappointed to miss out on that recitation, Tasia huffed a derisive laugh. Then she wrung her hands when the anxiety about the evening hit her with full force. Shestilldidn’t know what they were supposed to do to save everybody. But she did know that standing around definitely wasn’t it. Taking one more second to wallow in the sensation of helplessness, she gaveherself a shake. Then she marched over to the hooks by the door and donned her red cloak. It was time to end this. Somehow . . .
Halfway down the path to meet Mitch at their usual spot, she slipped on a patch of ice. The small-ish frying pan she had tied around her waist swung out, then returned to land against her thigh in a painful manner. That and her puny knife were her only means of personal defense. But the forming bruise didn’t distract her for long. She hurried the rest of the way to Mitch.
