I lean in expectant, and Alys nods.
Releasing a breath, I sit back in my seat, but I find myself unable to remain still. I have no desire to fight in a rebellion I barely know a thing about, but being able to remain in the Verge, living a quiet, boring life with Taig? That sounds… unbelievable. I sip my tea wordlessly tokeep from saying any of that aloud.
Haruka heaves a sigh. “Fair enough.” She’s silent for a while, then she says, “You all should stay for the festival today. You can leave again under the cover of dark while the festivities are still ongoing.”
Behind her, Osheen shifts on his feet, his lips pursed. Each stop may mean that there’s a stronger chance of the Forayers catching up to us, so I understand his anxiety. I turn my gaze back to Haruka, my brows furrowed. It has been a month since the beginning of spring, so there shouldn’t be one of the big festivals.
“It’s the festival of Damarlach, our patron goddess,” Haruka says with a smile.
The goddess of war and blacksmithing. That makes sense for Dubh Carrig.
“It’s lots of fun,” says Chiyoko. “There are fighting and blacksmithing competitions, art contests, and a lot of people dress up as warriors. One big pissing contest for who has the best metalworking skills, honestly, but it’s my favorite.” She’s animated as she speaks, face lighting up. “Basically, you have no choice but to say yes to the invitation,” she adds.
I glance at Alys and Kilkenny. Alys smiles and shrugs while Kilkenny huffs a sigh and scrubs his hand down his face. “I guess we’re going to the festival,” he says.
CHAPTER 46
Carys
The water levelin the loch is particularly high after all the rain we’ve had. Usually, all the trees have bloomed by now, leaving the surroundings at Paramount washed in the colors of spring, but many are still surprisingly bare.
After over a week, my days are equally bare without Alys, Tiernan, and Durvla.
Bitterness coats my tongue. My mother, and even Alys, withheld so much from me. Gods, I’m destructive enough without wielding. I heave a sigh and lean against the balustrade, drinking in the fresh air.
The sisters join me in my bedchamber around noon, attempting to cheer me up with card games and Ellynne’s special brand of fortune telling. “Ah,” she says, not even showing me the card she holds in front of her face. “You will fall in love with a handsome brute, get married, and have very blond children with eyes like fire.”
At that, I burst into tears.
Unabashed, ugly, forceful tears. Lowri jumps as if I’ve startled her and Ellynne drops the cards, reaching out to place her hand over mine. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Lowri snatches up the bottle of wine sitting on the table and fills my goblet. She’s not even finished pouring before I snatch the goblet from beneath the stream of wine and gulp it down. Lowri scrambles in her pockets for a rag to mop up the mess left behind while I dissolve into an equally messy fit of tearful hiccups.
“I know you miss them,” Ellynne says gently. “But we’re here for you. Aren’t we, Lowri?”
Lowri bobs her head, agreeable as always even as she mops up the wine on the table. I should be grateful for what I still have, but it’s so damn hard to find joy when there’s a black cloud above me, waiting to rain down some unknown terror.
The aroma of something sweet and buttery greets me as I step into the dining hall. But before I can make a beeline for the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of a broad figure sitting with their back to the table, hunched over something. My shoes clack loudly on the floor as I come to a stop and Callum grumbles something under his breath that I don’t quite make out.
The figure lifts his head, a bearded face turning my way, the braid down the center of his head like warm brass in the chandelier light. I take in the immediate glint that rises into the man’s eyes and the easy smile that spreads across his full lips. “Hello, Carys,” Odgar’s resonant voice greets me.
An odd, warming sensation expands in my chest.
“I was hoping to run into you,” he says.
He shifts as if to stand but I gently hold my hand up. My steps are quick as I make my way toward where his chair is awkwardly turned away from the table. In his lap is a fuzzy ball of grey-flecked ivory spinning fiber. His right hand holds a thick wooden needle with one end of the fiber through the large eye, and in his left is a swatch of what appears to be knitted fabric.
I stop midstride, doing a double take from his face to his hands then back again. “You’re…knitting?” My voice comes out embarrassingly high.
Odgar shrugs his broad shoulders, chuckling softly. “Nalbinding. It’s similar.”
I will my mouth closed and fix my face into a hopefully unperturbed expression. This warrior prince is sitting in a public space, casually engaging in a domestic hobby. I bite back the bark of laughter that threatens to escape. As I grasp the back of a chair to turn it, Callum steps forward.
“Allow me, Princess!” he says hurriedly. I step away, briefly catching a glimpse of his pinched expression as he turns the chair for me.
“Thank you, Callum.” I sit and Callum steps aside, his jaw set firmly.
Odgar sets hisnalbindingbehind him on the table and turns, his full attention on me.
