Page 62 of Veradel
Soren hoists himself up and plants his hands on my hips, sweat glimmering on his forehead. “You know, I should have paid more attention when Mrs. Wright tried to teach us ballroom lessons. You move like you’re dancing, Saskia.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Dancing?”
“Yeah? No need to look so offended. That’s a good thing.”
“She’s not offended.” That’s Lucan, stepping forward and crossing his arms as he observes my expression. “She just doesn’t know what dancing even is. Do you, little nightmare?” His last words are a soft whisper masking some deep layer of pain that I can’t decipher.
When I shake my head, Soren’s mouth drops open untilhe’sthe one who looks offended. “All right, those motherfuckers have done a lot of cruel things in there, but taking away dancing? I can’t wait to kill them. But until then…” He swings around and snaps at Vivian and Merrick. “We’re having a street dance tonight.”
Merrick sighs. “I’ll tell Ashe to bring out his violin.”
Vivian beams. “I’ll start the fire!”
Soren claps me on the back, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve never been more confused in my life. “Don’t worry. No ballroom. Plenty of alcohol. You can even step on Lucan’s toes.”
By the time the sun dips into a pinkish horizon, the dirt road that cuts through the ghost town looks completely transformed.
A fire blazes in the center, hotter and brighter and wilder than anything I ever saw flickering in the catacombs. The heat bats at my face as Lucan and I step closer, smoke billowing up into a cloudless sky above us. The children chase each other with sticks, shrieking and laughing while their mothers yell at them to watch their step, and someone strung beautiful, glowing…thingsup and down the street.
“Lanterns,” Lucan says softly, gazing down at me with a small smile. “I never got to experience it, but my father said Veradel used to have huge celebrations in the streets, and people would make their own lanterns to put out in front of their houses. It’s one of the traditions this pack has tried to carry with us. Keep alive.”
I take in the lanterns and the soft, colorful glows they cast. Some are rectangular, others round, but they all look as delicate as butterfly wings. The concept of everyone getting to make something different and show off their creation flips the Cardinal Rules completely upside-down.
And I like that.
“What did Veradel celebrate?”
Lucan chuckles. “The start of summer. The start of winter. The king’s birthday.Anybirthday, really. If a baby was born, the neighborhood would host their own special celebration, and pretty soon all of Veradel would catch wind of it and join.”
“Sounds like they’d use any excuse to celebrate,” I tease, although longing for something I’ve never had twists a sharp knife through my stomach.
What would it be like, to embrace what makes us different? To have fun whenever we want rather than the mandatory Sanctuary Sunday? Todance?
Even though our minds aren’t connected in the moment, Lucan watches all the emotions ripple across my face, and he holds out his hand with a smile.
“Let’s go find out.”
I take it, my soft, smooth fingers threading through his giant, callused ones. We drift even closer to the fire, where the rest of the pack mills about, talking and laughing. True to his word, Soren is handing out tiny glasses—like vials—of amber liquid that I watch people drain in one gulp.
“Want one?” he asks us as we approach, wiggling his brows.
I look to Lucan uncertainly, who frowns at my reaction.
“You don’t need my permission, Saskia. If you want to drink, I’ll be here to take care of you.”
My cheeks warm as I realize that Iwaswaiting for permission. A habit drilled inside me since the moment I was born that I’ll have to figure out how to break. Because despite all my defiance during adrenaline-induced moments over these past few weeks, I still find myself slipping back into the Cardinal Rules during normal interactions like this.
But I want to make my own rules now.
“It’s just…” I scramble for a reason to explain the hesitancy. “I’m not even sure I can consume anything other than… you know…”
I glance at Lucan’s neck, where the indents of my teeth still mark his skin.
“Only one way to find out.” Soren winks at me. Lucan growls, and he laughs.
“Okay, then.” I grab the little glass and bring it to my nose, sniffing. The contents make my lips purse, sharp and sour.
Just as I’m about to take a sip to test it out, a high-pitched cry cuts through the smoke. I jerk my head up to witness one of the children tripping as he runs after his friends, sprawling out on his hands and knees—the same boy who fell in the town hall several nights ago.
