“If he’s not, he’ll regret it,” Marin said. “When the flicks stop rattling, that’s the signal for the cats to land in the town square—there’s a feast already laid out for them, every fish you can imagine prepared every way a cat likes it. And yes, before you ask, there are cooks who spend the entire year practicing new recipes and testing them out on whatever cat wants an extra dinner. The cats eat first, and then the people. It’s tradition.”
“So this is more of a cat festival than a harvest festival.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, smiling to show he wasn’t being judgmental, and then she saw his eyes widen.
She’d changed into the dress her parents had gifted her—blue, which showed off her silver skin, with crisscrossed fabric beneath a gauzy layer that billowed around her. It was a look-what-you-missed-asshole kind of dress, and she’d thought it was low-key hilarious that her parents had purchased it for her, knowing it was possible that she’d see Iovar for the first time since the disaster. It hadn’t occurred to her that it could also have an effect on Dax. She’d also done her hair in braids, tied off with her freshly washed favorite silver ribbon, and she’d added silver bracelets from her wrists to her elbows. Each bracelet had tiny bells on it that would chime when the dancing started. She knew she looked good.
So did he.
While he gawked at her, she used to the opportunity to drink him in. He was dressed with bells as well, sewn into the sleeves of his shirt and the hems of his pants. He wore a blue sash that was the same fabric as her dress, which she knew was a deliberate choice by her parents. The matching fabric marked them as a couple. She wondered if anyone had explained that to Dax and decided it didn’t matter—he’d already agreed to play the part of her chosen lover, and judging by how pleased her father had looked when the two of them had left the house together, he’d been playing his part convincingly.
“You look beautiful,” Dax said. “It’s undisputed. I am the luckiestman in the Crescent Islands Empire… former empire… to be by your side.”
Okay, that was a bit much. “There’s no one watching us here,” Marin said. “You don’t have to pretend yet. Wait until we get to the town square.”
“I’m not—”
Ree bounded off the porch, his branches ringing. He’d been festooned with ribbons and bells on every branch, each shiny ribbon tied in a perfect bow. He turned in a circle and said, “I look amazing.”
“You absolutely do,” Marin told him. She meant it. “We’re going to make quite an impression on everyone at the End-of-Harvest Festival.” She meant that too.
This is going to be fine.
They’d accompany her parents to the town square, cheer on her pa as he smashed the competition in the pie contest, and then slip away immediately afterward—no harm done and everyone happy. She could do this.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Two hours after the contest ended and Pa had triumphed spectacularly with his brilliant peach pie, which everyone agreed tasted like the last sunset of summer, they were still at the festival. Marin had intended to exit quietly two seconds after it was over, but then the music had started, and Dax’s face had lit up like a cat presented with a fish feast. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that the plan was to leave.
He’d been handed a guitar, and he was coaxing sounds out of it that she didn’t think were possible, creating a rhythm with the heel of his hand on the body of the guitar all while he played chords and runs on the strings.
Everyone was dancing, including Marin’s parents, who were swirling and twirling, their bells jangling as they spun. Ree was in the heart of it all, having the time of his life, skipping and shimmying between the dancers.
On all the rooftops, the winged cats were clustered, napping now that their bellies were full. She thought she spotted Stowy among them, in a cozy pile of cat fur and feathers.
She’d seen neighbors and old friends, and it had all gone fine. No one had mentioned Iovar, except in oblique glad-you’re-doing-so-well-now references, and she hadn’t seen even a hint of—
“Mariner.”
And she’d jinxed herself by thinking about him.
Every muscle in her body tensed. She considered not turning around, pretending he wasn’t there, but if she was supposed to be demonstrating that she’d moved on and he was unable to hurt her anymore, it would be better to act as if hearing his voice didn’t launch her back into that horrible time two years ago when her world fell apart.Or was torn apart.After the barest of pauses, she said, “Iovar,” in a level voice. A greeting, not an accusation, even though he deserved one.
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Instead, she kept watching Dax, who was smiling so freely as he played. There were others playing with him, drummers and a flutist. He’d let them lead on the songs, and he complemented them with his wizardry on the guitar.
“Is that truly Daxicend, the imperial composer?”
Startled, now she looked at him. He’d grown a mustache. It wasn’t the best choice. It had come in flecked with purple, which made it resemble a venomous caterpillar. She was flat-out embarrassed of her past self for finding this man attractive. “You know him?”
“Not personally, no, but by reputation,” Iovar said. His mustache wiggled as he talked, and she couldn’t stop staring at it. Had someone told him it looked distinguished? If so, she owed that person a pie. “He’s known as the finest composer of this generation. What, in the name of the sea, is he doing on Flicker?”
Marin paused for the barest of seconds. “He’s with me.”
Even with the mustache, the look Iovar gave her made her feel as if she were a snail—tiny, squashable, with goo trailing behind her. “You?”
“Yes.” She didn’t trust herself to say more, but she crossed her arms, hoping it looked defiant but knowing it looked as if she were hugging herself.
“Then I’d like to ask you for an introduction.”
“Excuse me?”
