Page 39 of Song of the Dawn
“Yes.” Rachelle blushed. “Tell you a secret. I think I’m falling in love. It’s odd; I’ve had lovers before, but I’ve felt nothing like this. I have no desire to go to the city anymore. It is enough to work with horses and Rabon and take care of the guests here.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” I told her honestly, relieved she’d found what she was looking for.
“What about you?” Rachelle poked my side. “You’re going to stay here, aren’t you? It won’t be the same without you and your violin.”
“Yes, I’ll stay.” I wondered if I should tell her about Ezra. But my eyes went to the violin, and I tapped my finger against my thigh. While it was rewarding to play almost every night, something was lacking, something more. Would it be better if I returned to the city to play with an orchestra? Would I improve faster if I was challenged? But this was paradise, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
“I’m glad of it,” Rachelle went on. “When this room is empty, it feels like someone is missing.”
Endia. Rachelle missed her in her own way, although not knowing who she missed. I shook that thought away, determined to enjoy the celebration and not think of morose things like death.
“There, done!” Rachelle pulled me with her into the washroom and planted me in front of the mirror. “What do you think?”
I smiled, eyeing the braid wrapped around my head like a crown, while the rest of my purple hair fell in a cascade of waves around my shoulders. All I needed was a garland of flowers, or fall leaves, and the look would be complete. “It’s perfect,” I told her.
We dressed quickly, but even before we finished, I heard the music, the wild pulse of drums and the quick rhythm of strings. A twinge of guilt pierced me. I should play too, but Ezra had told me to take time off to enjoy the evening. I thought of his heated kisses, and my core fluttered.
Rachelle and I slipped downstairs. Giselle had informed me that Ezra hosted the harvest festival at the inn each year, and the dining hall, the ballroom, and the gardens were transformed. The villagers came, dressed in their best, along with the guests who’d chosen to stay throughout the festivities.
I knew nothing of harvest schedules, but it was only late August. Giselle told me the second harvest festival took place at the end of October, and that was when the last harvest was brought in from the fields. There was another celebration but nothing as big as this one.
The inn was more crowded than I’d ever seen it, and a hum of excitement tingling in the air made my heart beat faster. Rachelle ducked away, used to all the commotion, leaving me alone. Anxiety bloomed, but I reminded myself that Giselle was outside, waiting for me near the gardens. I weaved through the throng of people, men drinking, women preening at them from behind fans and pretending not to care.
When I reached the ballroom, I paused, my eyes drawn up to the drapery that hung from the ceiling and the chandeliers shining. It was lit up in there, as bright as daylight. A stringed quartet played a waltz, and a few couples danced, beaming at each other as they moved through the rhythm of steps. I crept along the wall until I reached the door leading to the balcony and then further outside.
It wasn’t any cooler in the open air, with the hot sun beating down, but the scent of pumpkin and spice drifted to my nose, and I relaxed.
Giselle had told me to find her, but it took me a while to weave through the crowds before I spotted her at a table laden with food, pouring a peach-colored drink. A bright-yellow dress left one shoulder bare, accenting her red hair and dark skin. She grinned and waved.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Fruit wine, or dessert wine,” Giselle laughed and poured me a glass. “It’s sweet and will make you feel like dancing. You’re just in time. The music is starting up.”
“The musicians are already playing indoors.” I pointed back at the ballroom.
Giselle snorted. “Nonsense, that’s for the posh lords and ladies. Out here, the music is for the wild ones. You’ll see.” She winked at me and drained her glass in one swallow.
Sure enough, a rhythm of beating drums began, a steady thud that made my pulse quicken.
“Come on.” Giselle grabbed my arm and ran, taking me past the garden and into a grove of trees. Beyond it, a meadow opened up, and the scent of lavender tickled my nose. I stared, for it was a field, surrounded by daffodils, and yet it reminded me of my daydreams. Flowers and long grasses grew alongside the trees, and spots of yellow bloomed beneath those boughs. I drew in a deep breath.
The villagers gathered in a semicircle. They were younger than the ones I’d seen inside the ballroom. Wild. Curious. Just like me. The trees were dark above me, and the wind roared, but as the sky darkened, lanterns were lit around the trees. Giselle paused by a laden table, passed me another glass of elixir, and giggled, “It begins!”
The wild dance was a drastic transition from the events in the city, with carriages arriving at large estates to drop off lords and ladies. The beat of the drum, the sweet air, the pulse of something otherworldly made my blood sing.
I drained the glass Giselle had given me, and the sweet elixir bubbled through me. My feet moved on their own, tapping in rhythm to the beat.
Giselle grabbed my hand, and suddenly we were in a circle, dancing around a bonfire that leaped and crackled as if it was alive. Staring at those orange flames made my eyes water and my vision blur. I imagined shapes jumped out of them, each of them a god with a musical instrument in hand, playing along to the drums. The resonance of a harp, the sonorous tone of a violin, the call of a flute, and the vibrations of an organ. One by one, each sound blared like a crisp clap of thunder.
My hand went sweaty in Giselle’s, and I lost her, but the throbbing of the dance did not cease. Someone handed me another glass of the fruit wine, and by then I was too thirsty to question it. I drained it, tossing away the glass, my back sweaty. It was hot out there, among the dancers, the drums, the music. Silver moonbeams shone, and something simmered within me.
Lifting my arms to the light, I spun around and around, laughing as a wave of sheer joy hit me. Everything was perfect, serene, and life was an unending glory. If I could but hold on to my emotions at this exact moment, I’d harness complete and incandescent happiness.
And then two arms went around my waist, and my spinning slowed as Ezra caught me. Placing my hands against his hard chest, I pressed my body against his. I knew exactly what I wanted. What I’d craved since the day he’d appeared on the steps.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he breathed into my ear.
“Because I’m happy,” I laughed, all my feelings bubbling like boiling water in a kettle, impossible to keep to myself.
