Page 23

THE MOONBUD REVELRY

GAVREL

I couldn’t breathe. She’d stolen the very breath from my lungs. On the bridge near our dwelling, I’d been staring off into the clutter of bristled ropes and water-worn timber. I shifted in Marek’s borrowed overcoat, the sleeves snug around my biceps.

Initially, I’d mistaken a glimmer at the corner of my vision for the sun’s reflection. I glanced in its direction, and then did a double-take.

Not the sun. Not everyone else’s, at least.

That’s when my breath hitched, my fingers clamping onto the railing as my world tilted.

It was my Little Star—radiant and otherworldly—looking like a celestial being that had fallen from the sky.

As she approached, one of her delicate brows arched as her icy-blue eyes glittered. “Tongue get cut out during your sparring session?” The corners of her eyes crinkled.

Her cheeks glowed; her skin scrubbed clean and painted in the soft neons of the retreating light. Like wild auburn flames, her curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back .

Mouth parting, I followed the line of her shoulders to the thin, woven straps that clung to them.

Down to the deep V of semi-exposed skin between her breasts, the sheer strips of ebony chiffon hugging the edges of the deep neckline were both demure and incredibly enticing.

It would be so easy to tear that off her.

“What was that?” she asked as the bridge creaked under her dark ankle boots.

Did I say that out loud?

Yes, you imbecile, I admonished myself.

I grunted in response, and her mouth curved. Gulping and setting my jaw tightly, my eyes glided over the rest of her.

Shimmering, sheer, black fabric skimmed over her curves, the hem kissing the tops of her supple thighs. Intwined throughout, kaleidoscopic threads glittered like the setting sun upon rippling water. With every movement, waves of moody, prismatic hues flowed over her body.

Though the material was sheer, the tightly packed pattern of the threads covered her, the hint of what lay underneath testing my restraint.

My hand itched to slip under the hundreds of delicate, dripping tassels decorating the hem. I drifted closer—pulled into her orbit—as she stood in front of me.

Enthralled, I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips. I kissed her knuckles and then interlaced my fingers between hers. She let me.

When a shy smile flitted over her mouth, an inhale forced its way down my throat. It was a relief to recall how breathing worked once more.

“You’re stunning.” My heart slammed into my ribs. I leaned closer to her. The sweet smell of her hair flooded my senses . “Like a wish come true, Asteria.”

Her chin dipped, and I knew her blush was hiding under the sunbeams painting her skin. “Thank you.” She reached up and pinched the fabric of one of the sleeves. “You’re not so bad yourself. Marek’s clothes look good on you.”

At the male’s name from her lips, a muted snarl reverberated in my chest, pushing me to my full height. She smirked and tugged me along as she moved across the bridge.

The city was alive. Vibrant. People were laughing and chatting. Giggling children rushed past us, their feet slapping as they ran. The walkway jiggled from the force of their merriment, and Seryn nestled closer, running her hand up my forearm.

I wanted her hands on me for the rest of our lives.

She tucked her arm into the crook of my elbow. My eyes closed for a moment as I savored the heat of her.

“Sweet Surrelia … It’s … it’s so …” A reverent sigh carried away the rest of her thought as she pulled away.

“Enchanting,” I mumbled, staring at nothing but her. But she didn’t hear me as she greeted Breena, a wide smile across her friend’s mouth as they embraced. Rhaegar nodded at me from behind them and then focused on gathering a few goblets from a makeshift pub.

All the shops encircling the central gathering’s vast platform were closed for the night in honor of the Moonbud Revelry. Cheerful music from local musicians, playing various stringed instruments and lively voices, rang louder as I approached.

Nearly a hundred citizens were already partaking in the festivities—dancing, drinking, and mingling. In muted shades of gray and coal, each person wore their finest clothing, some embellished with shimmering rainbow obsidian thread like Seryn’s gown.

From what I understood, this was the biggest celebration of the turn. A time when people threw their worries aside and attempted to connect. To squeeze every bit of happiness from this night and revere the Budding Moon, which would show itself tomorrow.

I was honored to be a part of it. Humbled that, even among a cruel, dying world, the people of this region hid and protected this city. Fortified their hope.

Was that what was filling the last shadowed corners of me like a smoldering flame tearing the darkness to shreds?

Hope ?

For turns, perhaps my whole life, hope had been elusive.

Impossible. The only times I’d ever felt a flicker of its warmth revolved around Seryn.

I glanced at her, and she turned as if sensing my attention.

She offered me a genuine smile, nose gently scrunching in amusement, before continuing her conversation with Breena and Rhaegar.

Heavily, I sighed and clenched my hands briefly before releasing them. I’d numbed myself for so long that my doubt and fear were spiders skittering under my skin, desperate to burrow elsewhere while I burned their webs away.

A myriad of interlacing cords swept from the branches, ropes, and homes scattered around and above the space, with thousands of small glass globes of firelight bobbing from them.

As the sun slipped into dusk, the flickering light and blissful joviality wrapped around the space, trying to strangle a smile from me. My jaw stiffened.

“Looks like you need some spirit, my friend.” Rhaegar chuckled and handed me a snifter.

Seryn and Breena drank from their cups and then took turns twirling for the other. The tassels flared as Seryn spun, and the threads of her dress glittered as firelight sparked over them and her hair.

In the heart of the Perilous Bogs, Seryn had flourished.

She was merging with her gift, its claws no longer deeply embedded within her confidence.

The despondency that had pulled at her features over the last weeks had eased.

Now, when she smiled, she meant it. It reached her eyes the way it used to.

The citizens here were her people just as much as those in Evergryn. My heart stumbled over its beats. Would she choose to live in this hidden bayou city one day? Would she choose the doombarks over the grymwoods? The wetlands over the forest?

I rubbed my palm over my chest, my scar pushing against my tunic. I didn’t care where I lived. Anywhere Seryn existed was my home.

I swigged and then choked on the bittersweet nip sliding down my throat. A viscous lavender liquid sloshed within the glass as I held it up to the light, the liquor’s legs sticking to the sides. “What the void is this?”

Rhaegar took another swallow. “Mireberry wine. It gets better as you go.” He slapped his beefy hand on my shoulder. “I’m on my third cup and feeling fine. Just fine, indeed.”

Cautiously, I took another drink, and the wine prickled pleasantly as it went down. He was right. The taste was a bit more agreeable this time; the tart sweetness chased the burn. I shrugged.

“I recall my first time,” Marek taunted, settling on my right and crossing his arms. Rhaegar hid his smirk behind another sip.

This bleeding lout.

I’d grown to tolerate him during our time here. Marek liked goading me, and in all honesty, I enjoyed poking him back. It seemed to be the best course of action to take with him.

I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes at him. The fabric of his overcoat stretched across my shoulders as I tilted my glass toward him. “Ah, this must have been what you wore as a young lad. Would explain the fit of it.”

The line of Marek’s jaw went tight as he snorted, studying Seryn and Breena intently. Loosely tied back at his nape, the firelight flickered along the waves of his russet hair, making it more tinged in ruddy hues than normal.

I knocked back the rest of my drink and slammed the goblet on a nearby table with a clatter. If he didn’t stop looking at Seryn, as if he couldn’t decide whether he should throttle her or rip her clothes off, I was going to tear his bloody eyes right out of his fucking?—

Jerking, I shook my head to dislodge my wayward violence and rubbed my temples. I detested not being in control. What the void was in that wine? Was I losing my ever-loving mind?

Seryn made her way toward us while Breena went to get more drinks. Her smile disarmed me, my pulse purring in anticipation of her proximity. Rhaegar pursed his mouth to the side in amusement, his head moving from side to side.

Marek glowered as he greeted Seryn with a nod. My brows rose, but my unspent jealousy left as quickly as it came. The male fixated on Breena, not Seryn.

Breena’s rounded hips swayed as she made her way to us.

The silky pewter slip dress flowed over her, a hint of skin flashing from the thigh-high slit with each stride.

I could’ve sworn her steps faltered a bit when her eyes met Marek’s, but it must have been a trick of the light. The woman never missed a beat.

His nostrils flared, shoulders tensing under his dark tunic. Seeing Marek fully clothed was odd, and the thought of his discomfort made my mouth quirk.

As Breena handed Seryn a glass, Marek’s chin rose, his scowl softening as he looked at Seryn. “Find Yaya later, yes? She wanted a word with you.” He rubbed his lips together, taking a deep breath, as if he wanted to say more. Instead, his jaw tightened before he bent his head and then strode away.

Breena rolled her eyes and drank deeply. “It’s a shame his packaging is so pretty,” she mumbled.

Seryn’s carefree giggle had me stepping closer to her, my mouth quirking up stupidly. “Bollocks. Don’t tell me he’s gotten under your skin, Bree.” Seryn poked her friend and teasingly whipped her finger away as if burned. “Thought you were made of fire.”

Breena’s eyes squinted at Marek’s back. “I am.” Her voice rose as she pushed her shoulders back, the ends of her hair flicking at her bare shoulders.

“Yeah, you are!” Seryn and Breena high-fived clumsily. I suspected they were feeling the mireberries.

“I’m fecking made of fire. Here.” She pushed her cup into Rhaegar’s empty hand, lavender sloshing onto his boots from both his and her snifters, and stomped off in the direction Marek had gone.

“Bloody void, woman,” Rhaegar groused, setting the empty glassware on the table and swiping his hands down his front. He sighed, tilting his head to the side. “Excuse me, I seem to be in need of another drink.”

I nodded and then looked at Seryn as she hummed to the music. “Did you see the procession on the other side?” she asked .

I glanced in that direction and could just make out a line of people heading toward the other end of the city, carrying bundles of flowers and flickering lanterns.

Seryn put one hand on my forearm, delight lighting up her face. “They give bog flowers as an offering to Selene.” Her touch left me to rest over her heart. “This place, Gav. The people. What they stand for. It’s just … just beautiful.”

“Quite beautiful,” I murmured, but I wasn’t looking at the crowd.

She sighed and then noticed my stare. Her chest flushed prettily.

“Seryn, I?—”

Interrupting me, Rhaegar returned, an older couple in tow.

If they were human, they looked to be around seventy turns old.

If Druik, they’d be ancient, considering how long the embered lived and how slowly they aged.

“My friends, it’s my honor to introduce Eliz and Keethan Wynt. They were the ones to recruit me.”

Eliz, the shorter man with white hair, smiled kindly as the taller man, Keethan, dipped his rounded chin, his mouth lifting at one corner. “It didn’t take much, son.”

As Rhaegar grinned, I bent at the waist, my hand covering my heart. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Seryn bowed her head, placing a hand on her chest as well. “How did you all meet?”

“Well, you see, we often travel in the Pneumalian deserts. We prefer the dry lands, being that Keethan and I hail from the south. We came across Rhaegar in the city during one of our scouting trips, and the rest is history.” Eliz looked at the male next to him with adoration.

“Thank the Ancients, Keethan and I found one another decades ago across the dunes. I’d be lost without my khorda. ”