Page 26 of The Source of Storms

With this first harvest loomed the solstice, Litha, and its celebration. Eilith encouraged me to go into Skeioholm for it. Three days of festival in town, she told me, with food, drink, and competitions and games in the square. All ending with Eldur Nott –– Fire Night. We had a similar celebration in my village, but it wasn’t as grand as Skeioholm’s.

When Litha came, I rode into town and rented a room at the cheaper of the two inns. I slipped on a deep blue dress I had purchased in town a month prior, painted my lips a pink-red tint, lined my eyes, and darkened my lashes.

I took a deep, steadying breath as I assessed my appearance in the mirror. It had been a long time since I had put any effort into my looks, and the thought of being seen by so manystrangers made me uneasy. I smoothed my dress with my hands and forced myself out of my room before I lost my nerve.

Around the town on the surrounding hilltops above the harbor, fires began to glow to life, then roar into towers. I followed the throngs of people up into the forest.

In a clearing at the peak of a hill raged a grand bonfire. Heat radiated from it to fill the entire meadow, the orange glow lighting the cheerful faces of many people talking and laughing in the evening light. It looked like at least a quarter of the village was at this bonfire, maybe more. A string band was already playing a boisterous tune, and I felt its steady drumbeats in my chest. A few vendors’ carts were stationed throughout the clearing, including a brewer’s cart serving mead and ale, tended by an older woman in a tall, pointed hat. I made my way towards it. The alcohol would ease my anxiety.

A head of dark curls and the peal of a contagious laugh caught my attention. Catriona, talking to a handsome blond man. She wore a tight-fitting lavender dress and was holding a mug. She laughed at something the young man was saying and patted his arm with a lingering touch. I made my way toward her, relieved to find a friend in the crowd.

“Cat!” I called as I approached.

She turned, and her grin faded to uncertainty. “Hey, Halja, right?” She glanced from me to the man standing beside her, then back to me.

“Yes, from Eilith’s.” I hadn’t expected to have to remind her. “Haven’t seen you at her place or in the market in a while.”

“Oh, right. Well, uh, I don’t buy from Eilith anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Samuel and I walk the path of the Light now. We don’t participate in dangerous Sourcery. So I suggest you move along. Enjoy your night.” She smiled with false saccharine politenessand turned back to the blond man. He looked down his nose at me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I stepped back, my mouth open although I had no words prepared to come out of it. I felt the usual blush of shame rising to my face, and I walked away to the brewer’s cart without another word.

I convinced myself to stay for one drink before I ran back to the inn with my tail between my legs, but as I was waiting to order from the brewer, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Well, well, look who it is again,” Byrgir’s deep, growling voice rumbled. “You know, for a hermit that lives out of town, I sure run into you a lot.”

“I don’t think you can be a hermit if you live with someone else,” I countered, turning to face him. He was wearing black pants and a deep moss-green linen shirt that matched his eyes perfectly.

He shrugged. “That’s just what everyone is saying.”

“Oh yes? Everyone is talking about me?”

“I mean, I personally wouldn’t dare. Hermit witches who live in the woods love to bestow curses on anyone for the slightest inconvenience. But others have been, yes.”

“What others?” I asked, and crossed my arms in mock skepticism.

“Alright, you caught me.” He raised his hands innocently, sloshing a bit of ale from the mug he held. “It was all me. I’ve been spreading the rumors.”

“Ah, I see. Well, one more person to add to the ‘To Be Cursed’ list,” I said.

“See, I knew it, I knew you were a witch.” He beamed at me. That smile... It was as striking as I remembered from that first day I met him. “Would buying a witch a drink get me out of a curse?” he asked.

“Hmm, might take two drinks.”

“A hard bargain, but worth it to avoid an eternity as a newt,” he said with complete seriousness, and marched resolutely up to the brewer’s cart. She passed him a large mug of ale.

I watched the ring of dancers bouncing and spinning in the bonfire light, but regretted it when I saw Catriona and her betrothed deep in a passionate kiss on the edge of the crowd.

Byrgir returned with the mug and handed it to me.

“I thought you were bringing me two?” I said.

“What, you want them both right now? You want to dance around with two full mugs of ale? You’ll look like a real idiot, you know.”

“Who said anything about dancing?”

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