Page 2 of The Fires of Longest Night
Kaderlyn shoots her a glance, raising a brow. “So. Are you going to tell me, or are you going to make me ask?”
Nissa’s mouth tightens, knowing what she refers to, knowing she’s going to blush and give away every thought she’s ever had on the subject of Ria. “Tell you what?”
Buying time seems the wisest course.
Kaderlyn laughs, fingers rapidly working the edge of the lantern. “Oh, very well, young miss. Has Ria asked you to jump over the fire with her? And while we’re talking about it, has she asked for the eventide or the daylight version?”
The last question is delivered in a tart, teasing tone.
Nissa flushes, tipping her head forward so her plaits fall around her face, concealing her hot cheeks, and focusses on the lantern she holds. But her fingers seem to remember only the calloused palms of Ria’s strong hands.
Longest Night marks the end of the year. The adults of the clan stay up all night, to make sure the sun rises—or so they tell the children. Once the young ones are in bed, though, the adults dance through the rainforest carrying lanterns, ostensibly sustaining the light in the midst of the darkness. And when they return to the fire that is the center of their encampment, some couples who have ‘found each other in the dancing’—as the old stories put it—leap over the tall flames, giving them a night together with no consequences. The eventide fire leap can even displace the most long-standing of marriages, but only until the sunrise burnishes the sky.
And then, by tradition, some of those who leapt the fire in the darkness—those not already committed elsewhere, at least—choose to leap it in the daylight as well. This promises a year together—no more and no less. It’s like a trial before a full marriage. And people often choose a year first: a full marriage is a promise for this life and the next.
As the Warlord’s daughter, Nissa’s not quite sure what to make of her place within these traditions, and a sensible part of her points out that maybe she doesn’t need to even think about it. After all, despite all their dancing and holding hands by the fire, Ria has said absolutely nothing to her about any of it. A secret, aching part of her wants to know why. Despite the clan gossiping of nothing but who was planning to leap the eventide and daylight fires for weeks, Ria has remained silent. Her gaze has lingered, yes; her touch, too. And that grin, with all its unspoken promise…
“She’s not asked me,” Nissa says finally, her cheeks burning.
“Oh,” Kaderlyn replies, and Nissa can hear the regret she feels for asking the question. “That’s… well, after all, the stories say you should find each other in the dance… maybe she’s choosing her moment?”
“Maybe.” Nissa can’t keep back another sigh.
And if Riawereto ask? Nissa stares at the green of the bamboo between her fingers, twisting a little too tight. She knows what shewants. At Ria’s side, her body has woken to a new kind of yearning she’s never known before.
But she also knows that even if she’s learning healing at Illima’s side, she’s also her father’s daughter. He is Warlord, head of their clan. He has been in discussions with envoys from other warlords, and his second, Resset, has told her—with much swearing to secrecy and significant looks—that her name has come up often. Her father’s gaze has been falling on her more frequently around the fire.
She wishes her mother were still alive to help advise her about such things, but she is dead, lost to a dragon attack. The dragon’s bonded human—a clan warrior—died, and the animal lost its mind, devastating the edge of the encampment. It killed ten people before her heart-broken father’s cries turned enough warriors on the monster. Nissa had been ten; her mother died with a spear in hand, protecting her.
If her father is seeking an alliance, after so many years of refusing one, the situation must be dire… Not that he’s discussed any of it with her; she’s pieced together his plan to pair her with someone from another clan, mostly from Resset’s hints.
And meanwhile, as she turns all of this over in her head, she’s resisted kissing Ria. Despite the ache of her desires, she’s been cautious about promising something that she might not be able to follow through.
“Ria’s out again, yes?” Kaderlyn’s words break into her thoughts.
“She is,” Nissa replies, in a tone that doesn’t invite further questioning. As if her tone has ever kept Kaderlyn from asking the difficult questions. She stares down at the bamboo strips, unfurling and confusing. She’s lost track of the pattern.
“I assume it’s not a risky run, if you’re just sitting here with us and actually doing some weaving?”
Nissa’s mouth tightens. “They’re all risky runs. Dragons draw the eye. And attackers will always go for the human first, so they can tell whether the dragon is going to… be useful to them.”
With dragons turning on humans, killing a dragon’s blood-bonded human first discloses whether it will take another human to bond with… or if the dragon is going to turn on all humans, as so many had. Unbonded dragons have devastated the continent, destroying nations, upending power structures and institutions, and leaving most of the surviving humans as nomadic refugees.
Clans like theirs, led by Warlords like Nissa’s father, appeared in the aftermath of the original dragon attacks. But many Warlords’ bands have disappeared in the decade since, sometimes devastated by dragons, and sometimes by other humans. Resset says that this was why her father was talking to other clans. Seeking to build alliances—alliances Nissa is sure she is meant to play a role in.
“I mean no riskier than usual.” Kaderlyn gives her an overly tolerant look, like Nissa is worrying about nothing.
Nissa always worries about Ria, though. Those dark eyes, that ever-present grin, and her broad, solid presence are like a haven of comfort and playfulness for Nissa, who knows she tends towards solemnity. But the thought of losing Ria makes her heart clutch.
She’d confronted loss young, and the dread of grief remains vivid. She’s watched too many clan members die this year alone. “No riskier than usual, I suppose,” Nissa replies in a toneless voice that makes Kaderlyn glance at her face.
“I wasn’t meaning to downplay it. But I have no doubt she’ll be fine.” Kaderlyn gives her another sharp look. “Don’t goborrowing trouble, my girl. Your mother would want to see you happy and dancing tonight.”
“And she will.”
Kaderlyn narrows her eyes. “What are you worrying about? About Ria? Or something else?”
Nissa swallows hard. The older woman raises her brows questioningly, and Nissa gives in. After all, Kaderlyn and Illima had been close with her mother before she died. “Resset tells me that if we want to survive, there are hard realities we must confront. He says that individual desires are as nothing. The only thing that matters is whether we can sustain our people. And that means sacrifice.”
