Page 40 of This Midsummer Heart
The only mood that hasn’t improved is my own. Not only am I exhausted—yet somehow unable to sleep in—but no matter how much I massage my aching eyes, the distant landmarks and rose bushes outside of town will not come into focus.
Uneasy from this change, I startle when a presence appears across from me at the table. Mayor Arquina, who is both the owner of this taverna and the inn where Auberon and I took rooms last night, slides into the seat next to me, still stuffing a towel into her apron pocket.
“I’ll be,” she says with what I’ve come to know as her usual hum; this time it denotes her surprised delight. “They say thefata di Morganaare true to their word, but I confess, I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”
“I know.” I offer her a mild smile. “It’s done all the same.”
“We’re true to our word here in Adellor, too. I’ll get your horses and supplies ready after breakfast service. If you don’t wish to tarry, you can be off by midday.”
I nod, my shoulders rising a little as that smudged view of the mountains catches my eye through the window.I used too much magic last night. Much as I’m loath to admit it, my body is faltering.
If I keep pushing it like this, with no natural magic around me to replenish it, it may outright fail.
“I have only one request,” Arquina says, wariness slipping in between her words.
My attention returns to her, my lips pursing. This is just like a hubristic human, to ask for something on top of a completed deal.
“The horses I’ll arrange for you...don’t cross the Bridge of Miracles with them. Someone always tries it. They’ve heard old tales of heroes outracing the tides in the Dewspell Era, and they don’t know it was only shadow steeds and water horses that could do it. I don’t have many tears for fools, but the loss of a good horse, for no reason like that...”
Her voice trails off as emotion gets the best of her. There is a story of some kind here—one I will not pry into.
“We’ll leave them with the rangers at the northern outpost,” I agree. “Perhaps your merchants will be able to fetch them back, or some other travelers can use them to head north.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“I’m not your lady,” I say gently. “You don’t owe me any deference.”
“Just the same.” Mayor Arquina’s soft smile is followed by a shrug. The towel comes out of Arquina’s pocket as she rises, wrapping it over her forearm, marking a return to business. “Have breakfast, my lady. A proper breakfast. My treat. The traders brought us plenty of goods through the briars—thelack ofbriars early this morning.”
“Your merchants have resumed work already?”
“Indeed they have, my lady. They traveled through the night and made camp by the lake, intending to start the painstaking trek through the briars just before dawn. It used to take them all day, making several trips back and forth since they couldn’t drive their carts and caravans through. This morning, they simply drove in on the old road.”
“So that’s why so many people are up so early,” I remark, trying not to sound too pleased with my handiwork. “They’ve been reunited with their families.”
“And some just wanted to be first in line for supplies.” Arquina chuckles. “Old habits die hard.”
I resist scoffing.Silly humans.Always fighting one another over resources.But dread forms quickly in my stomach. Scarcity makes even the noblest peoples ripe for a conflict. And the scarcest resource of them all will soon be magic.
In the coming years, mortals will be fighting the fetes and other magical creatures to compete for what is left of magic. A peaceful line-up to purchase dry goods is hardly anything to scoff at, is it?
“The roses, though,” I say, frowning at the distant rows. “They’re still here, even though the curse is gone.”
“Our main export used to be the roses,” Arquina replies, pausing to greet new patrons arriving in the taverna. “Rose hips for tea. Rose oils for perfumes and soaps. When I was a girl, half the town used to smell of it when the vats would be going.”
She sounds so nostalgic. For once, I think I can understand the allure of what’s past.
I miss my garden, and the ever-blooming flowers. The hum of the bees and the butterflies that would dance over me as I read my books on magic, and the fireflies that would visit the grounds at night. The garden of the House of Fetes was a place of eternal summer, of solace in the midst of the city.
I miss it terribly in this moment. As the smells of fresh-baked buttery biscuits and honey, of savory sausages and bacon hit me like the towel slapping over Arquina’s shoulder, I try to imagine that I’m tangled in the natural scents of the House of Fetes instead.
For I am certain that, even if I turned around now and made it back to the House and its gardens, it would not be the same.
What is left for me to hold on to? Nothing but memories.
“Ready?” Auberon demands, as impatient as ever.
I scowl at him. Since I’m the only reason we have these horses and supplies, I’d think he could keep his mouth shut for once while I say goodbye to Mayor Arquina.
