Page 3 of Blossoms and Bloodlines
Elara just smiled that knowing, too-old smile Beth had come to recognize and turned back to the cutting board, the blade flashing again.
Outside, the clamor of laughter and the scent of wildflowers drifted through the open windows, the town already buzzing for the night to come. Beth peeled faster, the low hum of anticipation curling at the edges of her skin even if she told herself she was above it.
Even if she knew better.
LITHA CELEBRATIONS, Oreads’ sacred ground.
Gaelithian Lithorn Halthin, son of Lithorn Halthin Caladwel and third name in the line of the High Elves title, was bored and slightly pissed off.
Maybe once he would’ve preferred music and alcohol to a quiet forest at dawn. Not anymore. Surely not now. Now was theworsttime for distractions. He was on the brink of literally revolutionizing the state’s energy grid. His affinity with the earth had revealed a network of untapped geothermal power, heat pulsing just beneath the surface. Clean, steady, and silent, it meant fewer emissions, preserved landscapes, new jobs, and real change. He just needed a public commitment from the last political holdout. One solid yes, and the whole damn thing could finally move forward.
Instead, he was in Mystic Hollow because, as his mother had so charmingly put it,showing support for the High Lord and Lady during Litha is your duty.”
And duty was duty.
Gael might’ve been irritated, but he wasn’t the kind of elf who shirked a responsibility. It was what it was. Litha celebrations, ancient vows, and a gathering that mattered to more than just politics. Even though politics would benefit all.
He’d bet his life neither Aryon nor Elara actually needed him standing around looking ceremonial, but it wasn’t about need.
It was about respect.
It was about tradition.
And whether he liked it or not, Gael would always show up when it mattered.
Let’s be clear, the party rocked. The music? Great. With the speakers thumping, magiks buzzing on the highest night of the year, and humans only adding fuel to the fire, it was a miracle the trees didn’t start dancing and partying too. Elara andAryon’s pub handled the drinks, so naturally, they were flowing and flawless.
He sipped his hard cider standing just beyond the main clearing where the heart of the celebration roared to life. It slid down his throat cool and crispy. Gael sipped again as he observed the people dancing, or what had started as dancing and had now devolved into reeling, flailing, and occasionally falling over in the moss. A rave in the forest. Who would’ve thought?
He let out a slow breath and dropped onto the grass, settling his back against the ancient stone that marked the entrance to the sacred cave of the Oread clan, comfortably removed from the worst of the music and the crowd.
At least it was clean chaos, he thought. No artificial highs, no chemical fog rolling through the trees. Just magic, some alcohol, and the reckless joy that didn’t care how short the night was, only how bright it burned.
The Mountain’s sacred ground deserved better, and tonight, thanks to Jade, it was getting it.
The last time he’d visited his cousins, the Oreads had been one of the most closed-off, stuck-up factions in all of magik, second only to the Dragons. Then the Mountain chose Jade as successor, and, well, this happened. Gael had to admit, compliments were in order. Youngest Oread Chief in history, and clearly the boldest. As a member of the High Family, he was expected at the upcoming formal summit of the Fey: Elves, Nymphs, and Fairies. None was as powerful as the Elves, but they shared old ties, and every few years, they came together to get an update on life.
So yes. He’d meet the new Chief, and he’d compliment this glorious mess with all of his honesty.
He closed his eyes, dropping his shields and opening his senses to the forest’s energy, chuckling to feel it as joyous as the crowd.
“Maybe you should get off your brooding ass and come dance.” Valerian, his younger twin, lightly kicked his crossed ankles, dislodging one foot.
“Not brooding. Thinking.”
“Whatever. Shut up and come dance.” He crouched, elbows on his knees. “You’ve been working nonstop for too long, bro. You need a break.”
“What I need is to get back to it. I’m so close I can taste it, Val. Sitting here, drinking, won’t make it happen. No matter how cool this thing is.”
“It’s cool, right?”
“Obscenely.”
Val punched his foot. “Then come. You won’t work, regardless. Might as well enjoy it.”
That was a very good point, Gael conceded. He got up, brushing the moss from his jeans. “Let's refill first,” he said, shaking his now-empty glass.
They crossed the clearing, plunging into the thick of the celebration where the crowd moved like a living tide. Bodies spun and swayed, laughter and songs threading through the heavy, electric air. Drums thudded in his chest. Heat pressed against his skin, rising from the crush of bodies packed so close. Gael didn’t particularly like crowds, but tonight, the energy was golden, untamed.
