Page 125 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
The other grooms are silent. Even my Guard barely breathes. I hold my curiosity back by sheer force of will as I watch thethoughts fly across my dullahan’s face. To others, he might appear stoic, but I’m learning to read the twitch in the muscle of his jaw as disquiet, and the slightest furrow of his brow as surprise.
It took time, but I think he and I are finally coming to understand one another.
Finally, he reaches out and grazes the top of the metal lantern with his palm. Fire shoots up within, and the stablemaster bows deeply, but doesn’t thank him. Not that he would, given the fae hatred of owing debts.
The horses are taken from us quickly after, though Wraith ignores their attempts to corral him into a stall and instead heads back out into the snow with a yip of enjoyment, snapping at the swiftly falling flakes.
It isn’t until I’m being ushered along narrow streets between the snowy cabins that we’re alone and I can ask, “Why did he offer you his lantern?”
Drystan shrugs. “An old ritual of little consequence.”
Not believing him, I nonetheless nod and let him lead me towards the temple. It’s a towering structure, though still made of wood, standing two stories taller than the other buildings in the village. The architecture is more intricate too. It shares the sharp sloping roofs of the cabins, but the multiple floors are broken up with straight walls, the rooms getting smaller towards the top. The temple is crowned with carved fish that leap from the corners of each floor.
Danu is a Goddess associated with water, and fish are one of her symbols. They’re probably the only outward sign that this is a temple and not just a grand house.
My entire body yearns for the scent of roasting meat coming from inside, but when we get there, Drystan doesn’t immediately open the door that’s lit from behind by what can only be ablessedly warm fire. Instead, he drags us left, making our group circle the temple three times before knocking on the main door.
More questions spring to mind, but I don’t say anything as a priestess opens the door and ushers us inside.
Boots are taken off, and cloaks and coats are unbuckled. It’s like shedding a soggy second skin, because I instantly feel lighter and warmer for the loss. When I turn around, looking for my surly Guard, he’s holding his hand over another lantern, this one being presented to him by a brownie in acolyte robes.
“Nicnevin, we’re honoured that you’ve come.” The priestess who opened the door for us offers me a small bow. “Our hearth is yours.”
Maeve appears behind her, mouthing words, and I echo them dutifully. “May we bring good health and happiness before it.”
My answer seems to appease the acolyte, and Maeve gives me a double thumbs up before disappearing again. I’m ushered towards the immense fire pit in the centre of the room. Food is pressed into my hands before I can say another word.
“News of your exploits along the northern border reached us a few days ago,” the priestess explains, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “And the High Priestess’s reinstatement brings joy to many, of course.”
The calmness in her tone isn’t reassuring like Kitarni’s is. There’s an edge to it that’s almost sharp enough to cut. The words are friendly, but the delivery leaves me unsure of how to take them or how to respond.
Thankfully, Lore is there, dragging me into his lap. “Eat this!” He shoves some kind of meat on a stick at me, and I eye it sceptically. It’s got speckles of some kind of bright orange over it, but I take a bite, anyway.
Fire explodes in my mouth, stinging my tongue.
“Hot!” I cry, eyes watering.
“Redcap!” Jaro snarls, and I’m stolen from Lore’s lap and plunked into the wolf’s as I choke on the bite I just swallowed.
Lore cackles as Bree passes me a mug of something steaming which turns out to be muddlevein tea. It soothes the instant burning feeling, but it’s gone too soon.
“Winter Court food is designed to warm you up from the inside out,” Jaro mutters. “Which the redcap must have known before he gave you that.”
“It was nice,” I protest.
And it’s not a lie. Now that the burning has gone, the aftertaste is deliciously sweet and almost reminds me of berry syrup.
“You should’ve been warned,” Bree murmurs grumpily.
Sighing internally, because now they’re trying to protect me fromfoodof all things, I take another experimental bite, this time focusing really hard on not coughing and embarrassing myself in front of the assembled priests and priestesses.
I actually… like it. Now that I know it’s coming, it’s not so bad and I can focus more on the flavour underneath the spice.
I’ve finished the whole skewer by the time Jaro finally relinquishes me. More of the village starts to arrive, taking spots around the fire pits until I feel like I’m at the centre of some unofficial community gathering. The room starts mixed, but soon splits apart, and I’m tugged away from Bree by the same priestess who welcomed us at the start.
“It’s better not to suffer the endless war talk of males,” she says, leading Prae and me to the left side of the fire. “Besides, we’re all dying to hear how Lord Snowchild got his engagement necklace around your throat.”
I stop midway through taking a cushion offered to me by a púca. “Engagement necklace?”
