Page 83 of Cursed Dreams
He held up both hands in surrender. “I was kidding!” He looked toward Thalia, suddenly sheepish. “Sorry, Thal. Poorly timed joke.”
“It’s fine,” she mumbled, not lifting her head.
Marand gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow, glaring, then turned back to Thalia with a gentle smile. “Really though, are you okay?”
Nyla looped her arm around Thalia’s shoulder protectively. “She doesn’t have to be okay.”
Thalia let out a tired sigh, finally looking up to meet their gazes, three sets of eyes filled with concern, waiting, giving her the space she hadn’t even asked for.
“I just…” She looked down at her tea, fingers tracing the rim of the cup. “Thank you. All of you. For not pushing.”
“When you’re ready,” Marand said softly, “we’re here.”
Thalia nodded, throat thick. She couldn’t begin to untangle the mess in her head.
She hadn’t seen Caelum. The forest hadn’t come. She didn’t know whether to feel relief or grief at that. And when, if, he returned, how would she face him? Knowing what nearly happened with Vaelith? Knowing the light had exploded from her like it belonged to Caelum, not to her? And then there was Vaelith. The broken, hollow look in his eyes. It haunted her. Yet, he hadn’t turned cruel. He’d only vanished… with quiet, unbearable restraint.
“I had a bad night,” she said finally, eyes still on her tea. “But I’ll be alright.”
Cellen gave her a look like he wanted to say something else, then glanced at Nyla and wisely kept it to himself.
“Alright,” Nyla said brightly, too brightly. “Well, you’re coming to the festival with us tonight.”
“I don’t know if I—”
“Nope,” Cellen said, shaking his head. “You don’t get to skip this one. You skip, we all skip.”
“Exactly,” Marand added, smiling warmly. “And I already planned my outfit, so you have to go.”
Thalia stared at them, lips parting.
“You guys…” she whispered. “You’re ridiculous.”
“We’re your ridiculous,” Nyla said, lifting her chin proudly.
A laugh bubbled out of Thalia, soft, hoarse, but real.
She didn’t know how she was going to face Caelum. Or Vaelith. Or the questions clawing at her chest like wild things desperate to escape, but she did know this: she wasn’t alone. Not while she had them.
Chapter 19
The dance was held in the heart of the town square, where lanterns floated high above like soft-burning stars, their golden glow swaying gently with the evening breeze. Garlands of dried leaves in shades of rust and gold were strung between rooftops, rustling softly overhead. Tables crowded the edges of the square, heavy with warm breads, roasted fruit, and carafes of spiced wine. Near the fountain, a group of musicians played a lively tune, the rhythm weaving through the crowd.
Thalia sat just at the edge of it all, watching. She'd dressed with care, more out of habit than excitement. The gown she wore was a shade of twilight blue, the kind of colour that clung to the sky just before night settled. Silver thread lined the hem and cuffs, delicate, understated, but it caught the lantern light in a way that made her pause. It reminded her too much of him. Caelum. The memory of his touch, of the golden light, stirred beneath her skin. She hadn’t meant to think of him tonight.
Nyla had helped her dress, fussing over her hair with gentle fingers and quiet reassurances. Marand had offered the dress from her own chest, insisting it brought out Thalia’s eyes. Even Cellen had refrained from teasing too much, though he’d made adramatic vow to ensure she had “exactly three moments of joy or he’d consider the night a personal failure.”
She’d smiled for them. Let herself be swept along in their plans, but her chest still felt heavy.
The lanterns above shifted gently, flickering in the breeze, and her eyes followed their movement. Something about the way they hung in the air, bright, still, distant, reminded her of Vaelith. Not in a way she could explain. She didn’t know what to make of it. Of him. There were moments she caught herself watching doorways, expecting to see him walk through. And she hated that. She didn’t even know why she felt this way.
By the time the second round of drinks arrived, sweet fruit wine laced with cinnamon and honey, Thalia had managed to loosen her shoulders a little. The square was fully alive now, glowing and full of movement. Laughter rose over the music, and someone near the fountain had started singing.
Nyla was the first to grab her hand and pull her from her seat, eyes bright. “Come on,” she said. “Just one dance. You’ll feel better.”
Thalia didn’t protest. Not really. The music rose around them, and she let herself fall into step beside Nyla, the two of them spinning gently at first, then more freely. Their skirts caught the lantern light, flaring with each turn, and Thalia laughed, a breathy, startled sound, when Nyla twirled her too fast.
Across the square, Cellen had already dragged Marand out, spinning her dramatically until she shrieked with laughter. He dipped her low with a flourish, beaming like he’d just pulled off a miracle.
