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Back in Nida, festivals for the longest day of the year would be starting with bonfires and long tables of summer crops and berries ready for feasting.

Crowns of wildflowers would be woven into braids, and strings of summer blueberries would stain mouths purple.

Of course, being so far north, the berries will have been harvested from other kingdoms and traded under the guise of nomads in Finniskali, while the flowers will be the ones more often found in the moon gardens of Nida and not the wild fields of Veter or Ljosa.

While Dahlia enjoyed celebrating Midsommar, her favorite time of year was the winter solstice. The darkness of the winter nights wrapped around her heart with a warmth and comfort that was unmatched. But she was a Shadow Elven, after all .

The winter solstice was a grand affair in Nida.

The fresh pine and evergreen wreaths and garland hanging from the arches of the Midnight Palace warming the moonstone halls as candles burned in every corner of the structure to light the longest night of the year was a sight that could not be replicated anywhere else.

Shadow Elven are already drawn to the dark on a regular day of the year, but Yule brings them out in droves, which almost overwhelms the streets of Nida.

The music and celebration during Yule always resulted in Dahlia losing herself to her more untamed character.

So, as they trekked through the hordes of worshippers celebrating the sun, Dahlia blocked the sound from her ears with her air galder.

The energy that bounded from the revelers was starting to make her heart pound in her chest. Her blood was thrumming along with every drum beat, her bones aching to dance with every step she took away from the campfires.

They quickly reached their temporary living space and entered.

Ignoring the music and atmosphere that called to her nature, Dahlia shut the door hard, making the walls rattle.

Sitting around the hearth in the small cabin, Dahlia spied Aeric sitting rigidly at his daughter's side.

To those who did not know him well, he would seem at ease and comfortable.

But Dahlia could see the strain he was under to control his urges to join in the festivities outside.

Even Maude leaned toward the door, her ear pitched toward the cacophony of sounds that called to her Elven nature.

Though their group seemed to stew in the tension of the unknown, the air in the cabin was calm.

Maude and the General seemed to have overcome some obstacle.

The distance that had been growing between them had disappeared.

Now, they sat close together, their bodies speaking a language that was clearer than any words they could have said.

She smothered a wide smile and moved to sit next to Liv and Bryn.

The former was braiding Bryn's hair, the bright haired woman sitting with her legs crossed in front of her and pulled against her chest. The closeness that bloomed between them was easy, their natural draw to each other clear since they arrived in Nida.

Though she knew Bryn was still suffering from a lost love, Dahlia could see those barriers starting to disappear before the Elven shieldmaiden who seemed to gravitate toward her.

Dahlia had spent so much of her life watching Liv move through the world alone, a nomad with no ties except for the ones she guarded the most. She was only a few years older than Liv and remembered when the Light Elven showed up on Nida's doorstep, a glazed look in her grey eyes making it clear that the location of their hidden city had been given to her via glamour.

They had grown up together, often finding each other as they were the only younglings at the palace.

Though their positions had taken them down different paths, they remained friendly when Liv returned to Nida, though never as close as they had once been.

Sorrow seeped into Dahlia's mood, surprising her.

Perhaps one day, they would repair what was lost.

Finally, she brought her attention to Hakon.

The Heir of Rivers was taking a long drink from a horn of mead, the dry honey wine disappearing between his lips rapidly.

She watched him swallow, watched how the long column of his throat worked in the firelight.

Noticing her attention on him, he brought his sapphire eyes to her amethyst ones.

Crystalline gazes collided across a space filled with quiet comfort, each mirroring the longing and anguish that tainted their souls.

He reminded her of someone else— someone she would not dare name even in the privacy of her thoughts as it would bring back the pain of his last departure. With the intensity that Hakon stared at her, she was sure he could read her mind just as easily as she seemed to read his.

He was in pain. And there was nothing that anyone could do to pull him from it. But the longer they held each other's stares, the clearer his eyes became.

Instinctively, Dahlia leaned forward. Hakon copied her movement— a magnet that responded only to her.

She took in his slouched form, looking beyond the outer shell the Heir was hiding behind.

His caramel hair was silken in the low light, and the short beard he had taken to wearing since they arrived in Nida was only slightly darker than his hair.

Square jaw and high cheekbones were framed by the longer curls that had started to hang forward on his face, much like Herrick's.

But where the General was a wild type of beautiful, Hakon had a refined sort of beauty that she couldn't seem to look away from.

The rest of his body was toned and lithe, his strength less obvious than his brother's, though they shared the same broad shoulders. There was a warrior lurking beneath the rakish outer shell he wore like a shield. He was beautiful.

But his eyes held her captive above everything else—the dark circles that tinged his golden skin, the hollowness that echoed there.

They reflected everything Dahlia felt inside. Without touching him, without even speaking to him, she knew what she had to do to pull him from his misery.

She had done it for him before; she could do it again for Hakon. But when would she have the time and privacy to do so? Dahlia mused to herself for a moment, lost in Hakon's gaze, until she realized someone was calling her name.

"Dahlia?"

She turned instinctively toward Gunnar's voice, breaking away from the spell the Heir of Rivers had put her under. Gunnar had an expectant look on his face, one arm outstretched toward her.

"Yes?"

Gunnar glanced down at the food he was holding out for her. "I asked if you were hungry."

She looked down onto the small slab of wood that was being used as a plate— roasted boar, an assortment of potatoes boiled with the skins on, and a few slices of rugbr?d slathered in salted butter with summer strawberries sliced on top, then drizzled with honey.

As she grabbed the offering from Gunnar, she could feel Hakon's eyes on the back of her neck.

"Oh," she breathed, shaking the last of her distraction from her mind. "Yes, thank you."

Sitting next to Gunnar, she dug in quickly, keeping her eyes down. It didn't matter; Dahlia could still feel the Kolbeck prince's eyes on her until long after she retired for the night.