Page 52 of Of Blooming Embers
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 itup 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.”
