Page 165 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
“I’ll grab you some Pick Up. Gotta few bottles left.” Hallie’s father pushed himself to his feet. “Be back in a few minutes.”
“No, Papa. I’mfine. I just—”
But of course, he was already leaving, never one to take no for an answer. Hallie told herself it was because he cared. Both her parents cared. It was why they were here…and why they insisted they would be taking her home with them soon.
Maybe if they’d decided to care sometime in the past three years instead, things would have been different.
The music picked up into a little jig, and with one last look and word of encouragement, Saldr rose to join the dancers, promising to check back in later.
Hallie tried not to dread it too much, going back to her sketchbook instead.
One of the moves in the dance was a small clap as you sashayed past your partner and back. Hallie took note. The details would matter if she wrote a book about the Yalven cultural background, something she’d once dreamed of doing. She’d wanted it to be more of a scholarly endeavor, but now it might feel more like an autobiography. She doodled a few of the wildflowers at the edges of the page. Some of the Yalvs had woven them into crowns, only enhancing their natural ethereal beauty.
She sketched and took more notes, ignoring her mother’s inquiring gaze.
“About coming back home with us,” Zelda finally started, her fingers tapping along with the beat of the song. The clapping one ended and another began. This one was just as jovial as the last and required a leap or two at the beginning. Hallie sketched harder, hoping that the pressure she placed on the pencil would signal to her mother she didn’t want to speak about that now.
However, her mother wasn’t one to be deterred either. Oh no, Zelda Walker would have blazed right through a snowstorm better than any wildfire. “Your father has had to take on more medic duties since Graham Fincher was killed in the attack, and I can’t very well run the inn by myself. It’s time for you to comehome and help, and with everything here…” She gestured out among the dancers, but Hallie couldn’t tell if she spoke about the celebration, the Yalvs, or the Catacombs in general. “It’s dangerous. And you’ve had your fun. Your University training is admirable and will help with running the inn. But it’s time you came home.”
Hallie’s pencil froze mid-stroke. She pulled it back in a hurry; if she kept it on the page, she might just rip a hole through the parchment. “Mama, have you even thought to ask what I want?”
That was the absolute wrong thing to say. She most definitely should have phrased that differently. Her mother’s gaze turned…not quite murderous, but it was almost as bad as the time Hallie and Jack had snuck out in the middle of the night and ended up being returned home by the town patrolman.
Whether it was fortuitous timing or not, Hallie’s father returned just then with a small vial in his hand. “Not as good as some of their concoctions here, but I’ve perfected my latest recipe.” He handed off the vial; the liquid was littered with coffee shavings that hadn’t quite dissolved into the fluid. She didn’t really enjoy coffee so much. Her father then gestured behind him. “Found someone else loitering ‘round our tent.”
Beside one of the outer tents draped in woven flowers stood Kase, two bowls of rations in his hands, his surly guard with him. The entrancing fairy lights strung from tent to tent nearly caught in his curls. Hallie’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly closed it and turned away.
Of course her father would’ve found Kase. If he hadn’t brought his Pick Up concoction back with him, Hallie would’ve thought he’d gone off to find the pilot. To be honest, she suspected her father might’ve had the Pick Up in his pocket the entire time. He and Kase had clearly bonded over their trip to the capital.
Jealousy itched at her. Kase had seemingly found more common ground with her father in a matter of weeks than she had in her entire life. Unfair, it was.
A man entered the cavern behind Kase, bumping into his back. Kase stumbled, but managed to keep hold of the bowls as the man apologized, steadying Kase by the arm before moving on. He held up his fiddle as he greeted several of the Yalvs and Jaydians gathered around the fire and through the cavern. He was a small, petite man, the fiddle in his hands as beat up as most people looked.
Hallie recognized him. It was the fiddler from the Crowne Haven Inn.
She still hadn’t seen or heard from Nole and Masie. Would the fiddler know what had befallen them? She’d told herself that the Catacombs were large, that Masie and Nole easily could be huddled in some cavern she’d never seen. But with each passing day, she grew less certain.
The current song ended, and Hallie did her best to ignore the bootsteps whispering toward her. The fiddler finished his greetings. One of the Yalvs held up a flute and played a few notes. The fiddler nodded and drew his bow across the strings, laughing a little at the discordant notes before working to tune it. Out of everything he owned, he’d chosen to save his fiddle. Now that was passion.
She wished she could feel his joy, the kindness evident in his smile as he started up a song, the flute following along. She wanted to let go and spin around the bonfire, pretending the light came from the sun; instead, she danced through a storm, the rain filling her up and spilling out the cracks. Between the Essence power, the swords, Niels, and Kase, she was riddled with more branching fissures than she could fix.
Hallie kept her gaze pointedly away from Kase, though his eyes burned into the side of her face. A different rift snakedbetween them, its edges craggy and sharp. She did not know how to find her way across.
Kase spoke first. “Hey.”
Hallie didn’t look away from the fire. “Good to see you.”
Averywarm, friendly, and appropriate greeting for the man she loved, obviously. She could act when she tried hard enough.
Or maybe not, judging by Kase’s grimace. She could only see it out of the corner of her eye, but guilt still needled at her.
The next song sounded familiar, a Jaydian melody rather than a Yalven one, perhaps to make their visitors feel more at home. The fiddler lit up, setting his bow to his instrument with a new stroke of boldness, adding his own flair to the music. A few of the Yalvs clapped along, the others a new dance, and smiles doubled in size around the fire. Laughter filtered through the magical meadow. Some of the Jaydians—and even a couple Yalvs—sang the words.
It was beautiful, but Hallie couldn’t concentrate on them enough to take notes—not when Kase took a seat beside her. She cursed herself for taking a seat further from the others. He sat on the grass itself instead of the nearby moss stone. Saldr would appreciate the solidarity, she was sure, intentional or not.
Kase wobbled as he sat, more focused on balancing the rations in his hands than himself. He held out a bowl for Hallie. “Didn’t know if you’d eaten yet.”
Several Jaydians joined in the dancing at the behest of a few of the Yalvs. Saldr bowed to Fely, who blushed but nodded.
