Page 84 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)

But even if they both stayed, what about the Yalven plan with the Gates? If she reset them, what would happen to her? To Kase? To time itself?

If her power undid everything that had led them to each other, would she find him again? Or would either of them—maybe both of them—cease to exist entirely?

She should just tell him how she felt, what she was thinking.

They could talk it out. It was the mature thing to do.

She was nearly twenty-two years old, for stars’ sake—yet here she was, acting like an overemotional teenager.

She clearly hadn’t learned anything from how she’d handled things with Niels.

She couldn’t walk away without saying goodbye this time. Not with Kase. They needed to talk…even if she didn’t want to.

At least she’d told Kase about the kiss. That’d been healthy, right? She could have kept it quiet. Honesty was the right choice.

Even though it’d hurt him. His entire posture had changed, the light in his eyes completely doused.

Hallie had done that.

In front of her, the Yalvs continued adding more glowing balls of flame to the center fire.

Each successive one grew smaller and smaller.

Maybe they were trying to conserve Vasa now that the core of the fire was finished, though it still created a nice effect.

Some Yalvs sang a soft, eloquent hymn in their native tongue, and the bonfire—which wasn’t really a bonfire, but it was the only way Hallie could describe it—blazed a little brighter with each word.

The wildflowers and grasses beneath it glowed, though they didn’t catch.

Hallie hastily took notes in her sketchbook.

She drew a few hurried images; they were nothing compared to the quality of her sketches before she’d lost her finger, but drawing still calmed her.

It helped take her mind off of Kase and the lack of power thrumming through her veins.

It reminded her of who she’d been before she’d lost her fingers before she’d become the Essence of Time.

A few Jaydians had joined the group, intrigued by the fire and the music—probably invited by Fely, who had spread the word on their way to the hospital ward earlier.

The Yalvs welcomed them with open arms, inviting them to watch and join the dancing couples twirling before the bonfire.

A few of the newcomers seemed wary of the strange fire without smoke or wood, but with everything else they’d gone through in the last few months, they soon proved too exhausted and heartsick to care.

The Yalvs seem to float as they wove in and out of the other couples dancing to the happy melodies. Hallie sketched one of them, then scribbled notes below:

To show thankfulness for Toro’s strength in the Dawn, the Yalvs sing a mixture of traditional and modern songs while dancing around their Yazyrea, the eternal flame.

The dancing became tradition about 1200 years after the Dawn (need to check the Yalven scholar, Hazrka, for the exact timing).

It is not necessarily a religious celebration, only one of joy.

It is customary to eat certain dishes, including a roast goose, which is also not tied to a religious practice—it is a more recent tradition. According to Hazrka, the goose happened to be prevalent at one of the feasts about 100 years prior, so therefore, goose is now primarily served.

Noting here that this year’s particular celebration is bittersweet, as the last year has been rife with death and the destruction of their ancestral home. Under the current circumstances, they have foregone many traditions and adapted others to the best of their ability.

There was no goose at this meal, only dried beef jerky and what looked to be some sort of fried fish.

Hallie didn’t want to know where they’d gotten the fish.

They’d either found some underground river or created it with Vasa, and if it was the latter, Saldr probably wasn’t happy about it.

She took note of it regardless. Perhaps it would become part of the evolution of this holiday.

“Have you eaten?” Her mother sat beside her in the soft grass, a few cloth-wrapped pastries in hand. Hallie leaned back on another moss-covered stone. Seemed Saldr hadn’t been able to stop anyone from making them, as many circled the bonfire.

“Yes.”

Not a complete lie. She’d thought about eating, but the hardtack just hadn’t appealed to her—especially with her failure this morning and all the emotions clouding her mind.

She hadn’t truly spoken to her mother since their fight the day before. She’d been avoiding it, and Zelda often gave her time to “mull things over” after their fights. Hallie guessed her mother believed it would inevitably lead to Hallie agreeing with her.

She was wrong, but Hallie didn’t feel like fighting about it again. Not yet.

Hallie had suffered a horrible few days in the relationships department.

Her mother leaned back against one of the moss stones and handed her a pastry. “Well, you look dead on your feet. Eat this.”

“I’m fine, Mama.” Hallie pulled back a corner of the purple-blotched cloth. Blackberry preserves. It would probably taste delicious to anyone but Hallie.

Her mother merely glared, and begrudgingly, Hallie took a bite.

She felt ten again. At least her mother had managed to make the hardtack edible.

Not everyone would know how to regrind and add flavor to something so dry and tasteless.

It wasn’t the first time Hallie wished she’d inherited her mother’s talent for baking; even if she had the recipe right in front of her, she still managed to bungle something.

That was her talent.

Zelda gave her an appraising look as she finished off the snack. She swallowed. “Thank you.”

A nod was all the praise she got. Of course.

Hallie set aside her sketchbook and pencil and fetched the small pouch of Zuprium dust from her trouser pocket.

She’d finally been able to clean her old clothes and change out of her mother’s smaller skirt and blouse.

The familiar lace at her throat and wrists was one comfort on this awful day.

She caught Saldr’s gaze as he conversed with Fely on the other side of the fire. The firelight made the Yalv’s golden eyes glow. He gestured toward the fire, and Hallie shook her head.

Saldr frowned, and Fely gave her an encouraging wave, but neither one could help her.

Her mother looked between the two, but wisely didn’t comment—though by the tilt of her head and that look in her eyes, she very much wanted to. Hallie should give her more credit for her restraint.

Her father had been the one to explain to her mother what had happened to her at Achilles.

It seemed Zelda didn’t care that her daughter could now supposedly create fire with a word and a puff of the Zuprium dust that used to cling to the Stoneset cottages.

Hallie hadn’t spoken to her about it at all, but her advice here would be no help.

She needed to talk to Kase. She needed him so badly it hurt.

She’d been in the wrong. She just needed to talk to him about everything—about her feelings, about his. Because her feelings were deep. There would be no pushing him away. It was ridiculous of her to even think that.

That little voice in the back of her mind kept sowing doubt.

It was only there to mock her, saying that she would never live up to who Kase needed her to be.

Who the world needed her to be. The voice said Kase was merely marking time with her, that she was nothing but a nice diversion from the chaos at hand.

She hated that Mr. Gray, whoever he was, had planted that in her head.

Kase had told her he loved her, but had he gotten swept up in the emotion of the moment? Had he truly meant it?

She’d given into her feelings when they’d been at Achilles, but now she felt as if she stood in the middle of a vast ocean, the only solid ground just wide enough for her feet.

No matter which way she moved, she would drown.

She needed Kase to pull her to safety, and—to continue with her slightly dramatic metaphor—to teach her to swim.

But maybe a simple literary device was all they were meant to be.

“Hal?”

Her father joined her mother, sitting on her other side. He leaned across his wife and put a hand on his daughter’s knee. “You all right?”

She chewed her lip as her mother also glanced at her. She felt like a lab specimen awaiting dissection. Not ideal. “I’m fine.”

It was all she’d told her parents since she’d returned.

She was fine; she just needed sleep.

She was fine; she just needed to eat something.

She was fine; she was just thinking.

Nothing was ever going to be fine again.

At least if the world ended, she would no longer have to tell boldfaced lies about her current state of being.

“You know, I talked with Kase earlier today,” her father said, taking his hand back and turning to watch the magical bonfire.

Hallie stiffened. Hopefully they couldn’t tell. “That’s good.”

“What did he do?” Her mother’s question was too pointed.

She’d never been a very good actress. “Nothing.”

Her mother pursed her lips, but her father covered his wife’s hand with his. “He came by the ward this morning to check on his family and give Niels a blanket from his hover. Said it might help. Asked after you.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about any of that.

The scholarly part of her brain latched onto the Niels bit, wondering why Kase thought that specific blanket might help.

The hurt part of her began to complain—loudly—that he’d gone to see Niels instead of her…

but the reasonable side reminded her it shouldn’t have mattered, because she didn’t want to see him anyway. She hated feeling so conflicted.

“How are Lady Les and Lord Jove? And Niels?”

If she kept her tone light, it would be fine.