Page 7

7

The Arrival of Fate

Anya

A t dawn the next morning, a chorus of horns echoed through the valley, announcing the arrival of the Mirrors of Fate to Waldron-on-Wend.

A crowd had already collected, filling Swan’s Row—the main road that cut through town—with an excitable chatter. The cobblestones were bordered by the River Wend to our right and a line of thatch-roofed shops to our left, creating a chute for sound to collect. Shrieking children darted amongst the throng, twirling streamers; dogs barked; Martha’s apprentice hawked sweetbreads—but all noises were secondary to the horns’ blare. The notes were low and earthy, with a metallic undertone that bounced off the buildings and zinged along the Wend’s calm surface, causing the ducks to scatter.

Hattie and I held hands as we pressed amongst our neighbors, standing on tiptoes to watch as the Mirror Knights crested the northern hill. There were sixteen of them in total: twelve on horses and four stationed on the ornate carriage that held the Mirrors.

As always, the knights appeared noble and grand. They were dressed in the rich orange and crimson of Fenrir, their rose-gold helmets glinting. Some bore crossbows, others swords, and the two directly in front of the carriage carried the flags of the Lordship of Fenrir and our Kingdom of Marona. The pair at the front of the procession were blowing the horns.

As the Mirror Knights approached the edge of town, Mayor Tomilson pushed his way to the front of the crowd and spread his arms in welcome. Townsfolk waved to familiar faces among the knights, calling out to those they knew by name. Then the procession was directed across the stone bridge and up Stone Hill to start the final preparations.

The rest of the morning unfolded smoothly yet swiftly. Hattie showed the off-duty knights to their rooms at the Possum, while I managed the setup on Stone Hill: directing vendors to their designated festival tents, introducing myself to the fresh faces amongst the knights, and organizing a couple of young shepherd boys to whisk our guests’ horses off to the town’s stables.

The Mirrors themselves were unloaded efficiently and without fanfare. Moving the heavy seven foot tall relics and setting them upon their gilt stands was quite the ordeal—but the knights were practiced. Locals eyed the process with a mix of wariness, awe, and excitement, but with the Mirrors wrapped in burgundy velvet, no one could glimpse their visions prematurely.

Once the Mirrors were settled in the center of the Standing Stones, I wandered over to one of my favorite Mirror Knights, Hammond, to say hello. He was a big bear of a man and infectiously jolly—when he wasn’t on duty.

When he saw me, he pulled me into a bone-crunching hug, lifting me clean off the ground before releasing me, unsteadily, back on my own two feet.

“Fates bless this day,” Hammond said. “It’s a pleasure seeing you, Anya Alvara.”

“Likewise, Hammond,” I said. “Tell me, how’s fatherhood treating you?”

His cheeks, ever-pink, deepened in color with pride. “I’ll be twice the father come spring!”

“Ellie is pregnant again?” I exclaimed.

“Indeed, indeed!”

I beamed. “Oh, Hammond, I’m so happy for you—the both of you.”

I hadn’t met his wife or son, but I’d heard all about them over the past few years. Ellie had a bit of trouble conceiving, and Hattie had given Hammond a tonic two years prior that he still claimed had done the trick—even though they had far more trained apothecaries at the capital.

“Say, where’s Hattie?” Hammond asked.

“At the Possum,” I told him. “Along with pasties and fresh sheets.”

“Fates bless you both. We’ve had six nights on the road now and I’m desperate for a proper bed,” Hammond said, already walking backwards down the hill. “Coming?”

“In a bit,” I told him. “Lots to tend to!”

I didn’t make it back to the Possum until sundown, and even then, I stayed only long enough to change into my party dress and retrieve Wicker, who loved a festival as much as I did, what with all the dropped food, generous ear scratches, and his collie-girlfriend Annie in attendance.

I’d commissioned a new dress from Kara, the town’s seamstress, for tonight’s occasion. It was a pale, cool-toned green, with teal and cream-colored floral embroidery on the bodice and elegant matching stitching around the sleeves and hem. The cut was practical and modest, with only a sliver of cleavage poking out of the curved neckline, but the waist hugged close, and the skirts were luxuriously—and warmly—full.

For my hair, I’d plaited twin sections against my scalp, which combined into one thick braid down my back. Around my shoulders, I’d secured my nicer gray cloak with my mother’s heart-shaped pin. I’d even gone so far as to wear the labradorite necklace Hattie had gifted me last Astrophel, one of my most treasured possessions.

“What do we think?” I asked Hattie when I emerged, doing a little twirl at the base of the stairs.

“Fabulous,” Hattie exclaimed. She, too, had dressed up, donning a stunning shade of cobalt velvet that complemented her fair complexion.

Remy, who’d been lounging by the fire in his black finery, stalked over to pinch my waist. “Sensuous,” he purred, bending down to kiss my cheek.

Hattie let out a little eep .

The Possum was empty, what with the entirety of town and all the knights congregating up on Stone Hill. But Remy’s public affection—even just in front of Hattie—was unusual.

“You’re in a cheeky mood, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Hard not to be when you’re wearing that.” He offered his arm, and I took it, allowing him to lead me out the door.

Outside, the sun had set, but its light still illuminated the sky in a soft palette of peach and periwinkle. The plateau to the south of the Standing Stones was already bustling: people mingling amongst the food and craft tents, grills sizzling and steaming, dancers twirling to the first band’s up-tempo beat, and bonfires roaring on the fringes. The Mirrors would be unveiled at midnight, so for now, the town was focused on drinking, eating, and enjoying the festivities.

Still, a tension swirled in the air, anticipatory and reluctant. I heard it in the faint worried whispers of folks in line for hand- pies, baked apples, and madrone berry necklaces. I recognized the bated breath as something I felt, too, awaiting my last chance to gaze into a Fate capable of changing. Once the majority of the town had gazed into the Mirrors, the festival would take on a lighter, freer mood, but for now, we were all antsy (save for the dogs and children under ten, who need not concern themselves with the Mirrors at all).

While Remy wandered off in search of hot cider, Hattie and I distracted ourselves by standing in line for slices of pumpkin cake. We tapped our feet to the beat of the band, giggled at the children racing by, and clapped when the fire-breathing performer blew a hot blaze past our faces. Wicker was off wrestling with Annie under the cheerful attention of Farmer Quinn, and with everything running smoothly, I felt finally free to let my mind wander farther from tonight’s logistics.

Unfortunately, it went straight to last night’s unexpected visitor.

I found it hard not to dwell on the mystery of Idris, wondering what sort of business he had in Waldron , of all places. Even during a festival that drew plenty of newcomers, his armor, fine cloak, and massive sword weren’t common for these parts—and he hadn’t even stayed for the Mirrors’ arrival. Plenty of intimidating folks had passed through my inn over the years, but never someone like him . A knight of an unknown Order. Clearly dangerous. Strangely disarming. Almost charming.

And his wound , I thought with a shudder. It had been alarmingly festered, completely at odds with his calm demeanor and that alluring, reluctant half-smile. When I first heard the frantic racing of his heart with my magic, I’d thought it was due to the wound, the pain. But his heart had only raced when he looked in my direction, rhythmic as festival drums.

Remy’s heart never beat that quickly around me.

“You and Remy seem extra cozy tonight,” Hattie remarked, speaking low enough for only my ears. “Do you think he’s coming around?”

I blinked, clearing thoughts of Idris from my mind. “Doubtful,” I said. “Remy has made his intentions clear.”

“Intentions can change.” She elbowed my side. “Maybe that’ll be your new Fate.”

“As I said yesterday, I’m happy with my lot in life.”

Hattie’s brow arched, just as it had last night when she caught me flirting with Idris. “Unless last night’s sexy stranger caught your—”

“Not every man is the star of a romance novel, Hattie,” I said, perhaps a bit too harshly.

But my harshness only egged her on. “I knew you fancied him. You could barely take your eyes off him! And you two had a vibe.”

“A vibe?” I repeated.

Hattie nodded, waggling her eyebrows. “An intense vibe.”

“He was a wounded stranger with a greatsword,” I said dryly, “the vibe was suspicion.”

“He seemed plenty nice,” Hattie argued. “And handsome. You have to admit he was handsome.”

He was. Hulking stature, dark wavy hair, with a rugged yet humbly capable countenance that few men—their egos too fragile—possessed. I’d been dismayed to note that his eyes were the blue-green color of my beloved Wend. And—frightening wound aside—he had the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen: strong, graceful, huge. He hadn’t been particularly charismatic, but he’d made up for that with reluctant wit.

I shook off the memory, disinterested in the curious longing it stirred up like sediment in my chest.

“Wasn’t he handsome?” Hattie pressed.

“ Yes ,” I relented. “And what of it?”

She smirked. “Just wanted you to admit it.”

We’d reached the front of the line, where Martha insisted we take our cake slices for free, given all the work we’d put into the festival. With gratitude, we carried our treats off to one of the communal tables set up in the grass.

To my left, the Standing Stones rose from the ground, resolute; with the moon spilling silver across the field, their silhouettes were sharpened in stark relief against the starry backdrop of the night sky. Without the insulation of clouds, the air was frigid, the stars bare and crystalline. Cold stung my cheeks, and I thought of Idris’s comment: Thank you, again, for your… warm hospitality, Anya . The joke made me smile to myself even now, but it was the raspy resonance with which he’d spoken my name that left a residue in my magic’s memory.

When Hattie and I had finished our cakes, we rose from our seats to find Remy. We located him sipping cider over by one of the bonfires, standing on the fringes of a crowd of couples flying over the muddy ground in a fast-paced dance. When I came up to his side, he smiled affectionately down at me.

“Fancy a dance, m’lady?” Remy asked, passing his cider to Hattie and offering me his hand.

His formality made me laugh. “Only if you promise not to call me ‘m’lady’ again,” I said, allowing him to spin me into the fray.

Hattie laughed and cheered from her spot on the sidelines.

I was not a particularly talented dancer, but since I’d been practicing the steps of Waldron’s most popular dances since birth, I could keep up with the crowd. Remy’s hold, however—with one hand gripping mine and the other splayed on my low back—made me rather light-headed as he took me through the familiar turns. I had the sinking feeling that I was one ale away from admitting to myself that I did hope he was changing his mind about settling down in Waldron. That I did wish this particular part of my life would change.

We were still dancing when the horns cut through the merriment, announcing the beginning of the Fate Ceremony. Tucked against Remy’s chest, I lifted my chin to stare up at the pleasant planes of his face. “Look into the Mirrors, won’t you?” I begged, suddenly deeply invested in what he might see—hoping it would be me. “Please?”

His mouth pressed into a line, and he swallowed thickly. “All right, maybe I will.”

“Really?”

“I’m afraid I can’t bring myself to say no to you,” he said, gripping my hand as he led me toward the back of the queue, my heart fluttering in that stupid way it always did around him.

Hattie and the rest of town were congregating on the orb-lit path. When we reached her, I snaked my arm through hers, not wanting to appear too chummy with Remy around watching eyes.

“ Remy ,” Hattie intoned, “are you going to gaze into the Mirrors tonight?”

His gaze slanted toward me. “I’ve been convinced.”

“It was surprisingly easy,” I told her. “Have you run into”—I dropped my voice to a nearly inaudible whisper—“Noble?”

Hattie stiffened, then jerked her head toward the front of the line. “He’s up there. I ran into him amongst the craft tables, said hello, and he turned and walked the other way.”

“Maybe he’s just shy?” Remy offered.

Hattie groaned. “I’m beginning to think he hates me.”

“Only a monster could hate you, Hattie, and even then, I have my doubts,” I told her. “But if he’s not keen, it’s his loss—truly.”

Hattie rested her head on my shoulder, her curly hair tickling my nose. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, squeezing her arm a little tighter.

The line moved quickly, the sounds from up ahead a mix of cheers, gasps, and loud sighs of relief. Word traveled back through the line about fortunes changing to show babies, weddings, and large harvests. Farmer Timmons’ eldest son saw a new and rather disturbing death by a toppled haystack, but as he was yet twenty-one, there was hope in avoiding such a frightening demise.

Mostly, Fates remained the same, with the majority of the town enjoying the security of small fortunes and peaceful deaths by old age. The more I heard about the visions happening up ahead, the less I believed the rumor Remy had relayed from Brine. Everyone knew that even an unfixed Fate was difficult to alter—especially the closer to thirty I got.

Eventually, our little trio made it to the front of the line. The Mirrors were as they had been earlier, arranged beside the center stone in the circle, facing south. Their velvet covers were gone, revealing ornate metal frames and odd, swirling surfaces. Knights guarded either side of them, stone-still, with hands resting on hilts. Only one citizen was allowed in the stone circle at a time, so as not to crowd the Mirrors and distort the visions.

Hugh was standing before the Mirrors now, and given my place in line—my vantage somewhat parallel to the Mirrors’ faces—I could only see a partial image. But Hugh finished his turn quickly, smiling at those of us in wait. At sixty-one, his Fate was long-since fixed, and I knew from previous years that it was favorable. Still, it was nice to see his relief. Encouraging, even.

But now, it was our turn.

With my heart suddenly in my throat, adrenaline lacing my blood, memories of my mother’s death edging into my thoughts, I whispered to Hattie, “I need a moment. Can you go first?”

She nodded, gave my arm one last squeeze, then let go, stepping into the circle.

I shuffled sideways a little so I could see what the Mirrors showed her.

She faced the Mirror of Fortune first, her shoulders trembling. The fog in the Mirror’s silvery surface cleared, revealing a spread of potions on a table. The image was from her vantage, her own fingertips brushing over multicolored bottles. It might not have been a man, but her same old fortune was, indeed, favorable, as it showed her working with potions, an activity she loved.

She moved, next, to the Mirror of Death. I held my breath as the image of a ceiling appeared, her upheld hand wrinkled and spotted with age, so similar to the death I, too, had been shown in previous years. Her hand lowered to her side, and her vision swiveled toward the window, where sunlight streamed in through the branches of a great oak. It was the same death she’d seen before, and when the Mirror cleared, she looked at me and visibly sighed.

Then she walked to the opposite side of the circle, congregating on the sidelines with the other revelers who’d already had their turn. One of the Mirror Knights managing the line beckoned me forward.

“Good luck,” Remy murmured.

Heart pounding, I walked across the grass to observe my Fate.