Page 177 of The Call of Crimson
“Here, this will help warm you up,” he says and hands it to me. Without thinking twice, I take a long pull and let the liquor run down my throat.
It’s spicy and harsh, but it does warm me. I cough, my eyes watering as I hand it back to him and ask, “What the hell is that?”
“Prudian spiced whisky. It’s made with cinnamon and clove for this time of year, but it’s my personal favorite to drink year-round.”
“It’s disgusting,” I say, shaking my head vigorously.
“It is not!” A look of offense plasters his face, and I try not to laugh.
From his other side, I hear his sister agree, “It is pretty disgusting, brother.”
“More for me then, since that’s the primary drink served at the festival.”
“The cinnamon is just so strong…” my voice trails off as I realize why it’s familiar to me.
Cinnamon.
Elijah smells like cinnamon and chocolate. While the drink may be horrid, the scent reminds me of Elijah and how much I miss him. I long for my best friend’s presence almost as much as I long to have my mother alive again. Nothing feels right without him and Ophelia here.
Sensing my shift in mood, Rowina pulls out her own flask and hands it to me. “Don’t worry, I brought my own, and it’s much better than that rubbish.”
I smile half-heartedly as I take a pull from her flask and relish the burn of her chosen libation. This one is much smoother and sweeter. It tastes of crisp apples and subtle spices.
“This ismuchbetter.” I lick my lips. “Your sister has far superior taste, Ayden. I think perhaps I’ll choose her if I am forced to marry into the House of Mordet.”
“Very funny, love,” Ayden says, smirking. “But the marriage contract was with me, not the House of Mordet. You’re still my fiancée, unfortunately,” he jests back.
I’m not sure how we reached this tentative peace, but I enjoy how easily I can be around him. Though my heart belongs to Aurelius, a sort of kinship has grown between Ayden and me.
The music becomes noticeable as we approach the festivities, and I bask in the feeling of pure joy I receive as the notes wash over me. Several fiddles and drums play upbeat tunes meant for dancing. The people of Prudia fill the streets as they dance, drink, and laugh like nothing weighs them down. Bright lights are strung around the square, evergreen trees frosted in snow have been placed around the edges, and vendors and merchants fill the spaces in between.
In the center of it all sits a makeshift dance floor, several bodies already filling the space.
“Excuse me, Princess,” a small voice says behind me.
I look down to find a girl around the age of ten smiling at me and holding a crown made of evergreen sprigs and red berries.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Ayden says, taking the winter crown from her.
She giggles and skips off.
Turning to me, he lifts the crown and places it on my head.
“Well? How does it look?”
“Perfect,” he purrs.
I shake my head, ignoring his flirtations. More bodies have gathered on the dance floor, and I stare on curiously as musicians begin playing.
“The next dance is a group dance.” He offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I take it, and he leads me into formation. Two lines form, and we stand facing each other. Before it begins, he leans over and explains the dance.
“This dance is called Maya’s Wedding. We’re at the end of the line, so you’ll have several rounds to watch the pattern and steps. At the end of our turn, we break off and return to the end of the line. It’s pretty simple. I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly.” He gives me a wink before falling back in line.
As the music picks up and couples begin the dance, I watch intently. The dancing couple weaves figure-eights in a diagonal pattern with two others in the line. They meet in the middle, grasping forearms and spinning each other, before continuing the figure eight pattern with the opposite couples from the first round. The steps and pattern continue, each couple taking their place at the end once their turn is done, effectively progressing us forward.
The dance is lively but simple. When it finally comes to our turn to join, I smile in glee as we begin the familiar pattern. The upbeat lilt of the fiddle, the consistent beat of the drums, and the whistle of the flutes fill my ears, making my body and soul hum in delight.
