“What’s a lingonberry?” Elloven asked in a loud whisper when the woman had gone.
“Who knows?” Jesstin answered, and they both laughed. “Probably comes from one of those other ‘worlds’ I keep hearing about.”
“Strange, isn’t it? All our lives, people have whispered about them, but anyone who took it with a grain of earnestness was called crazy. If only they knew.”
“Our societal structure hinges upon us believing there is one uniform way to think, act, believe, worship... Those who don’t are forced to the fringes of society, because if others followed them, the cages they built for us would crumble.”
Elloven’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize I’d be getting a side of politics with my cider tonight.”
Jesstin felt suddenly insecure about his outburst. He’d never shared his beliefs like that before. “Apologies.”
“Don’t apologize for saying what you mean. I’m not surprised you feel that way,” she said with a thoughtful tilt. “How different the world must seem from the perimeter.”
Jesstin shrugged. “I suppose.”
Elloven started to say something else when the barkeep slid two sloshing ciders at each of them and left to help another table. “These look interesting.”
The burgundy liquid was not as thick as an ale, and it smelled... well, fruity. He raised his mug, and she did the same. “To your resilience.”
“And your persistence,” she said.
“And your stubbornness...”
Elloven grinned. “And your recklessness.”
“And to us.” He clinked his mug against hers. “We did it. We found each other.”
They both took a sip. Elloven wrinkled her nose and discreetly set her mug aside, but Jesstin found he enjoyed the sharp tang of the berry. There was no risk of him overindulging though. The last time he’d consumed drinks so sweet, he’d woken the next day with bile fastening his face to the courtyard stones.
“You found me. I wish you’d tell me how you got here so fast.”
He couldn’t stop studying the details of Elloven. Her dreamy blinks, the glitter of her hair under the hanging lanterns... the fullness of her lower lip, which creased into her upper lip as she observed him. Her tentative eyes suggested she expected a lie, and the thought of losing her faith made him answer with as much honesty as he could afford. “I bartered in a sepulchral market. They have other means of passage across the Infinitum, quicker ways. It just took some time to work through what they asked of me. And you? Did you find anything interesting in the library?”
The redirect worked, but she sank slightly lower against her bench. “I confirmed who my real parents are. You were right about Esme, by the way. And then I met my father.”
“You met him?” Jesstin recoiled. It seemed strange she hadn’t mentioned it until then, but he supposed it was no stranger than him holding onto his meeting with Shioven. “Where?”
“Magna Annalis. I was caught in the time change, and the fiends tracked me to a dead end. His sentinels rescued me and took me to him, but I wish they hadn’t. I wish I’d never gone to the archives at all.”
“How do you mean?”
“Before I’d met him, I could believe he was a victim, both he and my mother—my blood mother. Now I know he had no fight in him. Not for her. Not for us. If it wasn’t for Esme, Gen and I wouldn’t have survived as long as we did.”
Jesstin fully intended to tell her about his encounter with Shioven, but the mention of her father had really distressed her, and Shioven’s context would make it worse. Giving her one night without sadness or regret was a gift, not a deception. If he could keep her smiling and laughing, it would spark the courage they’d both need for the days ahead.
The music leaped into a lively melody that sent patrons out of their seats. Jesstin watched Elloven watching them, her head lightly bobbing with a joyful smile and her foot tapping the ground.
“No,” he said firmly.
Elloven turned her face his way in protest. “What?”
Jesstin crossed his arms and leaned back. “I don’t dance.”
She tilted her head. She was playing him, and it was unspeakably sexy. “Not even for me?”
“Not even for... Fuck it, why not? When will we ever be back here again?”
She clapped her hands together with glee, then held one for him to take. He gave her exactly what she was after: a gentleman’s kiss atop her soft hand, a sweeping bow, and the offer of his arm. As they made their way to where others were dancing, it felt nice to walk her to the dance floor, to feel her arm tucked into his.
