Page 12 of The Shadow of Polaris

The glass chalice I was polishing shattered in my hand with thoughts of the flatlands and the countless hunters that’d gone missing since my return. The youngest was 8, a boy who’d gone out with his father on his first hunt. They’d found his small body two weeks later, torn to pieces, drenched in that familiar black ooze.

It wasn’t until warm, scarlet drops splattered on to the bar beneath me did I snap back into reality. Scowling, I reached for my cotton rag and wrapped my bleeding palm tightly; the gash throbbed under pressure.

I needed air. It was hard to keep track of what was reality and what wasn’t these days. Endless hours hidden in the shadows left room for wandering thoughts. Pacing to the window, I unlatched the lock and slid it open, letting the cold front wrap its tendrils around me. Flurries whipped in from the night, melting against my feverish brow.

Would I wither away in the shadows of this tavern? How long could I remain hidden away until the bedroom upstairs became another prison? My throat tightened and I rubbed at my cloth covered hand, holding back short, quiet sobs. That key was my second chance. My new life. How could I live it sitting in fear, wasting away between sacks of potatoes? A fracture cracked up the old glass as I slammed it shut.

My cheeks cried for another kiss of crisp night air. My toes yearned for the exhaustion of an endless night of dancing. A couple pranced hand in hand down the street outside- their laughter rippled through the dim, dusk light. Frya had already retired to her bedroom upstairs, closing up early before any drunken festival goers made a mess of her bar.

Her claims of wanting some peace seemed to only scratch the surface of why she avoided the solstice and its celebrations like it was the deadliest of plagues. When I begged her to celebrate with me, even over just one glass of berry cider, she snapped- she pushed her barstool away and grumbled up the stairs about stumbling drunkards and fools.

Arcturas, now wrapped against my bare feet, kicked and grumbled in her sleep. I stroked behind her neck with my toes to settle her as I examined the wound and began picking particles of glass from the open gash, now brown with a clot. Reaching for the broom behind the bar, I cleaned up the shards of the chalice.

I returned to the window, shadows deepening beneath my eyes. Pressing my hand to the chilled glass, another couple passed by the tavern, their small son skipping and chasing snowflakes behind them. The old woman wouldn’t notice if I were gone for an hour or two. She probably wouldn’t leave her bedchamber for the rest of the night. A foolish thought pressed its way to the front of my mind.

“Arcturas, wake up.” Bending down, I scratched the wolf behind her ear. One bright amber eye flicked open and peered up at me. She lifted her paw to expose her warm belly. A request for scratches. Complying, I stroked her underfur.

“So... You wanna go on an adventure?” Her ears perked, but still only a single eye blinked towards me.

“I was thinking about going to check out the festival…. There probably would be treats there.” Her second eye snapped open.

“Well..?”

As if in response, she jumped to her feet, shaking her bushy tail rapidly. I chuckled and tiptoed to the coatroom. Silently creaking the closet door open, I lifted my cloak from its hanger and started towards the door. Being sure to tuck my hood over my brow, we stepped into the chilly night. The soft click of the door was the only sound behind us.

Arcturas padded along the cobblestone as we approached the city’s center. With each step closer, the chatter of a crowd, laughing and giddy, grew louder and louder until it finally roared into the night. A sea of amethyst cloaks and robes ebbed around the mountainous city center, gathering most densely at the tall, now-polished statue of Polaris.

The aroma of roasting meat and baking pastries percolated into the air as street vendors jumped busily to work, serving customer after customer orders of salt lamb and cinnamon pies. Children bustled through the crowds in lines, their faces smudged with chocolate or hands holding a tin of solstice cakes.

Everyone smiled and laughed and danced.

Blues, purples, and greens of all shades bustled around me through the city’s center. Colors I’d nearly forgotten pulsed and whirled through the space as city folk danced and twirled in the celebration. Clenching my chest, I nearly fell to my knees. Everything around me, so bright, so full of life, was overwhelming.

This was not the city I’d left five years ago, and a feeling of joy struck at my heartstring. No longer did the people of Ursae carry shadows on their backs, their frail bodies slowly fading into starvation. I stopped in my tracks, wide eyed at the vision of gaiety around me.

The city had healed while I was away, under Vikar’s rule. Not a single trace of my sister’s reign fluttered through passing expressions or conversations. My nephew had fulfilled the promise he’d made to me all those years ago. Grinning so wide a cramp settled into the creases of my lips, I leapt into the swirling crowd of dancers- jumping and moving to the rhythm of a nearby fiddle.

Interlacing fingers with the small blonde woman across from me, we giggled like children as we spun faster and faster; the world circled us in bright, warm colors of celebration. Arcturas bounced between us, her tongue flinging against an open mouth, drool pouring from both sides as she sniffed for scraps along the cobblestone. No one noticed the wolf with vicious fangs and flaming eyes sneaking beneath them, lapping up the treats their children spilled. She was even so bold as to sneak a bite of an unsuspecting turkey leg directly from the hand of a man immersed in jolly conversation.

The music slowed, bringing the crowd of dancers to a halt. I smiled at my partner. One too many glasses of solstice wine stained her lips a deep purple. Judging by the sway in her step and the beads of sweat dripping on her brow, even if she had recognized me, she surely wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning.

“It’s a shame the King couldn’t see the festival his council threw,” a round, red-nosed man nudged beside me.

“Why? Where is he?” I asked him, scanning the crowd for Vikar’s royal guards or carriage.

“Hmm?” He turned to me, surprised by my interruption. “Haven’t you heard? He’s traveled to Aquilae, hoping to reestablish shipping routes. It’s a real shame, y’know. I bet he’da loved seeing his people so happy.”

A piece of me had hoped to see Vikar at the festival, but another piece was relieved that I wouldn’t. I’m not sure I’d be ready to face that moment in time. To see how he’s grown would be to see how much time had passed. How much I’d wasted away in that tower. I wondered if I’d ever see him again, or if he’d stayed the innocent twelve-year-old boy I’d left in that throne room. Maybe it was for the best. I’d simply slip away without stirring up the trauma of losing his makeshift mother for a second time. Clearly, the realm had healed most of its wounds during my exile; hopefully so had their King. The frantic melody of a fiddle picked up and, with it, the surrounding crowd. Tonight I shouldn’t worry about the past. Or the future. I wanted to exist in the moment, to breathe in the night air and feel the joyous buzz of the city folk.

By the time the moon drew to its pinnacle, fatigue swelled my ankles. Arcturas had found a warm spot beneath a vendor’s cart, stomach bulging in satiated bliss. A large bell rang from the temple above as the dancing slowed to a natural stop. Another bell struck, and the sky ignited with wisps of greens and blues so bright the shades reflected against the onlookers’ wonder-struck faces. Flecks of silver and purple marked the stars of our galaxy above. The veil of color shimmered and whirled as if it was alive. A hush fell over the crowd as ringing bells erupted into the air, announcing our goddess’s arrival.

There, stepping out from beneath the marble columns at the temple’s entrance, was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Her jet black hair seemed to float and wrap itself around her silvery frame as a satin cloak, the darkest shade of night, shimmered with each graceful step. She wore a dress that matched the color of the northern sky, with gauzy cerulean and magenta ribbons trailing behind her. An iron crown rested atop her head, its single point glinting in the moonlight. On each bicep she wore a matching iron cuff. Bewitched by our goddess, I fell to my knees, feeling the softness of Arcturas’s tail curling against my thigh.

As she raised her hands into the air and looked to the sky with bright indigo eyes, a stillness thickened throughout the crowd. She whispered something I couldn’t quite make out and an electricity blinked across the city, traveling to the outskirts just beyond the tower. Tingles spread from my toes to the crown of my head as the pulse washed over me.

Feeling as if someone had kicked me in the gut, a rush of air escaped my lungs and I reached for the grounding support of the street in front of me. Arcturas’s fur straightened along her spine, her ears perked stiffly into the air and her eyes burned so deeply I thought they might burst into flames. The surrounding others were still smiling wide eyed from ear to ear, clasping their hands together in awe. The ward didn’t have nearly as intense an effect on them.

Struggling to my feet, I stumbled forward, nearly shoving the small, ancient man in front of me to the ground. Apologizing profusely, I pulled the hood of my cloak lower over my face and wove through the city square littered with people. Arcturas trailed frantically behind me. My lungs needed air as the crowd began closing in tighter around me. Bile rose in my throat and I knew if I didn’t shake away these tingles, now needle pricks against my skin, I’d be sick. I couldn’t afford to draw that attention to myself- not with city guards posted at every corner of the square.

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