Page 45 of Of Potions and Honey
“I-” Mira cleared her throat. “I didn’t skip town. I had somewhere to be.”
“Sure you did.”
Cassia leaned on the table, her long sleeves dragging along the floor. She was wearing a voluminous dress that looked suspiciously like the curtains Mira had seen in the Bakers’ living room window, and a tiara made of twigs and decorated with flowers.
“So what are you showing off?”
“I’m not showing off,” Mira muttered. She took a deep breath. “The poem you mentioned.”
“Yes, I know. Whatkindof poem?”
Mira managed a coy smile. She would not give Cassia any extra ammunition for teasing her. “Well, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself, won’t you? That’s half the fun of poetry.” She gestured at the tiara and the dress. “What’s this all about?”
“Oh, my fancy gown?” Cassia lifted an arm and shook the sleeve, which Mira suspected had been a bed sheet not too long ago. “Have you ever been to the opera? The man I was seeing before I moved back here used to take me. A right dandy, that one. I like the music, so tonight, I’m singing an aria. I figured it would be fun to have a dress to match. It’s sung by a princess lamenting her lost love. Hamish agreed to learn it, he’s accompanying me on his violin.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, speaking of, I need to find him! We’re up second… third? Pretty early. I’ll be right back!”
She almost toppled the chair when she got up and sauntered off into the rapidly growing crowd.
Mira stayed put, hands folded so tightly on the table in front of her that her knuckles began to hurt, and waited. At some point, she managed to order a glass of mead, the signature drink of the region, for courage more than enjoyment tonight. Eventually, the lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd. Cassia still wasn’t back when a moment later, Emilia climbed on the makeshift stage.
“Hey! Hello! Welcome to Town Talent Night!” She smiled widely as she looked around the crowded inn. “It’s lovely to see so many of you back! We have some first-timers in the audience and on stage today, so I hope you all will be on your best behaviour. If you’re curious about tonight’s performances, you can take a peek at the list on the bar counter. And now, without further ado, enjoy the show!”
She jumped off, and immediately Penelope, Harper’s partner, took her place, while somewhere behind the bar, a music box started playing a jaunty tune. Penelope was holding a basket full of colourful balls and rings that she put off to the side.
“So, I’ve picked up a new hobby these past few weeks…” She picked up a set of balls and posed. “Let’s see how many of these I can work, shall we?”
It didn’t take long for Mira to find herself rather engrossed in the show, despite the quaintness of it all. Nobody here was a professional at anything, that much became clear very quickly. But they all made up for it with enthusiasm. Penelope with her juggling; Kian’s daughter who was showing off some pictures she had drawn; the Atas, with Sabir playing an unfamiliar kind of flute and Inan dancing to it; the elderly butcher who sometimes had an afternoon beer with Hamish showed off the impressive speed at which he could carve a rabbit figurine from a block of wood; eventually Cassia and her aria, a little wobbly in pitch and perhaps a little underserved by being accompanied only by a single violin. Every one of them seemedright at home on that stage, and the audience rewarded them all with thunderous applause, hearty laughter, and the occasional encouraging shout. It was almost enough to dispel Mira’s anxiety. Almost.
When Emilia, true to her word, announced her and her “dramatic presentation of a poem”, Mira’s heart dropped somewhere in the general direction of her knees. Well. She had promised, and she was a woman of her word.
She clambered up on the platform, hoping that her face wasn’t as red as it felt. The paper had stopped crinkling, largely because her palms had gotten unusually sweaty. It was ridiculous. She’d been to many readings, it had never looked this difficult. If everyone under the sun could do this, so could she!
She stepped up to the microphone, cleared her throat, and began to read.
In spring’s lush green, the thorns so sharp -
A flower blooms…
Having the poem have three parts had, in hindsight, been a bit of a mistake. Halfway through, Mira’s mouth had gone dry, and finishing it without sounding like a croaky old crone had been a challenge. When Mira was done, she felt a little light-headed, staring out at the crowd wide-eyed. They were going to laugh. Oh, sheknew-
There was the loudest whoop, coming from the corner where Cassia and her dress took up half a table, and then applause roared through the inn. Faintly, Mira heard someone’s declaration that it was the best poem they’d ever heard, which was a statement she would ordinarily have called into question. Now, though, she just ducked her head, waited a few moremoments to be polite, then retreated off the stage and back to her table.
Which was now occupied.
“Yoni!”
Yoni smiled faintly. “That was nice. I liked the bit about the rain.”
Mira blinked owlishly. “You did.”
“It was a very nice poem,” Yoni said quickly. “Very… sentimental.”
Yes, that it was. On purpose, though Mira refused to mention that. It might lead to more questions, and having to explain to Yoni that the poem was, in a manner of speaking, about her, while not outright saying that it was…
“I was hoping for an emotional reaction,” Mira agreed. She took a deep breath, trying not to sound like she was changing the subject on purpose. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was late. Marigold got stuck behind the-” She sighed and shook her head. “Never mind. Cassia said the seat was free.” She suddenly seemed a little dubious. “If you are sitting with someone-”
“No! No, I’m not.”
