Page 16

S pring slipped into summer, and early summer brought the abundance of the land and sea.

Green blankets of grass for the goats and horses, and multicolored rows of vegetables, herbs, and flowers in the garden.

Fresh hunks of honeycomb in cool goat’s cream with globs of blackberry jam, gleaming silver salmon from the river, and fresh eggs with thick golden yolks.

The sun set later and later each night, until soon it barely set at all. It dipped below the horizon and soaked the sky in crimson twilight before rising again. We slept less and less, naturally, fueled by the midnight sun and energy of summer.

With this first harvest loomed the solstice, Litha, and its celebration.

Eilith encouraged me to go into Skeioholm for it.

Three days of festival in town, she told me, with food, drink, and competitions and games in the square.

All ending with Eldur Nott –– Fire Night.

We had a similar celebration in my village, but it wasn’t as grand as Skeioholm’s.

When Litha came, I rode into town and rented a room at the cheaper of the two inns. I slipped on a deep blue dress I had purchased in town a month prior, painted my lips a pink-red tint, lined my eyes, and darkened my lashes.

I took a deep, steadying breath as I assessed my appearance in the mirror. It had been a long time since I had put any effort into my looks, and the thought of being seen by so many strangers made me uneasy. I smoothed my dress with my hands and forced myself out of my room before I lost my nerve.

Around the town on the surrounding hilltops above the harbor, fires began to glow to life, then roar into towers. I followed the throngs of people up into the forest.

In a clearing at the peak of a hill raged a grand bonfire.

Heat radiated from it to fill the entire meadow, the orange glow lighting the cheerful faces of many people talking and laughing in the evening light.

It looked like at least a quarter of the village was at this bonfire, maybe more.

A string band was already playing a boisterous tune, and I felt its steady drumbeats in my chest. A few vendors’ carts were stationed throughout the clearing, including a brewer’s cart serving mead and ale, tended by an older woman in a tall, pointed hat.

I made my way towards it. The alcohol would ease my anxiety.

A head of dark curls and the peal of a contagious laugh caught my attention.

Catriona, talking to a handsome blond man.

She wore a tight-fitting lavender dress and was holding a mug.

She laughed at something the young man was saying and patted his arm with a lingering touch.

I made my way toward her, relieved to find a friend in the crowd.

“Cat!” I called as I approached.

She turned, and her grin faded to uncertainty. “Hey, Halja, right?” She glanced from me to the man standing beside her, then back to me.

“Yes, from Eilith’s.” I hadn’t expected to have to remind her. “Haven’t seen you at her place or in the market in a while.”

“Oh, right. Well, uh, I don’t buy from Eilith anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Samuel and I walk the path of the Light now. We don’t participate in dangerous Sourcery. So I suggest you move along. Enjoy your night.” She smiled with false saccharine politeness and turned back to the blond man. He looked down his nose at me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I stepped back, my mouth open although I had no words prepared to come out of it. I felt the usual blush of shame rising to my face, and I walked away to the brewer’s cart without another word.

I convinced myself to stay for one drink before I ran back to the inn with my tail between my legs, but as I was waiting to order from the brewer, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Well, well, look who it is again,” Byrgir’s deep, growling voice rumbled. “You know, for a hermit that lives out of town, I sure run into you a lot.”

“I don’t think you can be a hermit if you live with someone else,” I countered, turning to face him. He was wearing black pants and a deep moss-green linen shirt that matched his eyes perfectly.

He shrugged. “That’s just what everyone is saying.”

“Oh yes? Everyone is talking about me?”

“I mean, I personally wouldn’t dare. Hermit witches who live in the woods love to bestow curses on anyone for the slightest inconvenience. But others have been, yes.”

“What others?” I asked, and crossed my arms in mock skepticism.

“Alright, you caught me.” He raised his hands innocently, sloshing a bit of ale from the mug he held. “It was all me. I’ve been spreading the rumors.”

“Ah, I see. Well, one more person to add to the ‘To Be Cursed’ list,” I said.

“See, I knew it, I knew you were a witch.” He beamed at me. That smile... It was as striking as I remembered from that first day I met him. “Would buying a witch a drink get me out of a curse?” he asked.

“Hmm, might take two drinks.”

“A hard bargain, but worth it to avoid an eternity as a newt,” he said with complete seriousness, and marched resolutely up to the brewer’s cart. She passed him a large mug of ale.

I watched the ring of dancers bouncing and spinning in the bonfire light, but regretted it when I saw Catriona and her betrothed deep in a passionate kiss on the edge of the crowd.

Byrgir returned with the mug and handed it to me.

“I thought you were bringing me two?” I said.

“What, you want them both right now? You want to dance around with two full mugs of ale? You’ll look like a real idiot, you know.”

“Who said anything about dancing?”

“Don’t try to tell me you weren’t planning on dancing, wearing something like that.” He gestured to my dress. The top was fitted, with short fluttery sleeves and a plunging V-neckline, while the bottom flared loosely, perfect for spinning.

“You don’t like it?” I asked.

“I like it very much.” He smiled. “In fact, I think I have to see it in action or this whole night will feel like a waste.”

“I think I’ll have to finish this first,” I said, and took a sip from my mug to calm the flutter in my chest.

“Good idea. If you’re a terrible dancer, you can blame it on the ale.”

“Is that your usual excuse?” I asked.

“I don’t need an excuse, I’m good,” he said confidently, and did a few steps in time with the fast music to prove it. I clapped enthusiastically.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” he joked, then gestured to the metal hair beads I wore. “I like those.”

“Thanks, your mother made them,” I said. “She has a great eye for detail. How’s she doing?”

“Good. Busy as always. Been helping my brothers with the midsummer harvest lately, and making as much as possible for the market while it’s busy season.”

“I’ll have to come back for those earrings of hers I liked,” I said.

I stole another glance toward Catriona. Byrgir noticed and followed my gaze.

“Friend of yours?” he asked.

“I thought so, but apparently not. She pretended not to remember me. Think she was ashamed to show she knew a fae-touched woman in front of her new man. Paragons got to her too.”

“Bastards.” Byrgir shook his head and swigged his ale. “Although I know her man, and I’ve met her before too. You’re not missing out on much, trust me.”

I chuckled. “Seems that way. He wouldn’t even speak to me. Fuck ’em, I guess.” I shrugged, and took another sip of ale.

“Aye, fuck ’em!” Byrgir smiled, lifting his mug to tap my own. My heart skipped a beat when his eyes met mine, sparkling green and joyful.

∞∞∞

I finished my first ale and began to buzz with warmth from it. Byrgir bought me another as the band picked up the tempo.

We wandered around the clearing to a vendor on the far side.

A cart covered in buckets of flowers and draped in woven garlands of bright blooms distributed bouquets and flower crowns.

I picked out two matching crowns for us, bright white flowers woven with ferns.

We downed the last of our ale, and with our flower crowns planted securely on our heads, Byrgir held out a hand in invitation.

I took it and followed him to the bonfire.

The midnight sun was just beginning to dip below the clouds toward the horizon as we joined the crowd of dancers stomping and spinning their way around the towering bonfire. We fell into step together, and I quickly discovered Byrgir hadn’t been lying. He was a good dancer.

He spun me with graceful control as we moved together with the music.

He was a good leader, and I followed his steps easily enough at first. Yet as we drank more and attempted more complicated combinations, I sometimes stepped on his toes or missed a spin.

We laughed at my missteps, and we practiced spins and combinations until we either got them down, or became too intoxicated and giddy with the energy of the night to keep trying.

After some time, we decided to explore another fire, and followed the glow of the other celebratory inferno through the dark woods, giggling with drunkenness as Byrgir led me by the hand.

The band stationed at the new fire was even more upbeat than the first, and I was soon exhausted by keeping time with the music.

I danced with no one else the entire night. We were inseparable.

When the sky dimmed toward twilight––the darkest it would get that night––a space cleared in the patch of dancers.

Four women, clad in heavy black hoods and nothing else, entered the circle.

Their bare skin was entirely painted with runes and knots winding about their arms, legs, and torsos.

Two of the women carried long poles, while two held large hoops.

On their shoulders they wore frames of bent poles that reached up and away from their bodies, arching out over their shoulders.