Page 37 of Palaces and other Prisons
It was entirely possible the city-state no longer existed.
For a heartbeat, he wondered if he should be casting a wish for everyone now stranded in this world. But it was tradition that these wishes were personal. He could go to the temple or one of the shrines in the castle and offer bigger prayers at any time.
He passed Dawson and wondered what he was wishing. They hadn’t discussed it, and Ul didn’t want to know if Dawson wanted to go home, if his wish was for the promised boat.
The night air was cold on his skin, despite the strategically placed braziers. As he glanced up at the stars, he wondered how many other worlds were out there, and how many had been impacted by what the humans called the collapse?
Like a pebble thrown into a lake, the ripples must extend beyond this world because everything was connected. One drop of water could travel the world. One breath of air gave life to so many. Despite the upheaval, the melancholy that he’d carried with the previous two Samhains was missing. It was as if the paper had been brushed clean and was ready for a new story to be written.
Perhaps this time, he could write the story the way he wanted, and his second marriage could be for him if he convinced Dawson to stay.
He glanced at the folded paper in his hand, knowing that he shouldn’t make a wish that might change the path of another. No, clarity on the issue is what he needed. He stared at the carefully arranged sticks, aware of everyone gathering behind him.
Ul lifted his hand. “Light the fire to guide us into the new year.”
The woman who tended the shrines within the palace lit a taper from one of the braziers and walked towards the stack of wood that had been carefully built over the last couple of days. She murmured a few words of burning away the old to allow the new to grow.
He’d burned his hand with the dead, but no new limb had grown. However, he still appreciated the sentiment and understood that gods and magic were not so literal. He held his breath waiting for the flame to catch and exhaled as it did,feeding on the kindling before taking hold of the bigger sticks. The golden heat enveloped the courtyard and filled the air with its joyful crackle.
Ul approached the fire. He held up his wish in his hand so all could see. “As the year ends and a new one begins, we mourn the losses and celebrate the joys, and we cast out what is no longer needed to make way for what we desire.”
It was always some variation of those words that he said. Perhaps this year, losing the wrist that had once worn his wedding band had been the ultimate shedding of the past. He held the paper out and let the flame lick it from his branches.
“Join me in creating the New Year,” Ul said as he stepped back to make room for others.
While there was an order, it was not done one at a time, as the fire was big enough for ten people to stand around. While some stood and murmured a prayer to their preferred god, others got close enough to feel the heat and threw the paper in. No doubt they were shedding burdens instead of wanting something more.
He remained close enough to watch Dawson approach the fire. To see the way he closed his eyes and drew in a breath before offering the paper to the fire with a reverence Ul appreciated.
Staff brought drinks around, and traditional little cakes that were only the size of a bite. He remembered standing there with his fathers when he was about seven or eight. That was the first time he had understood what it meant for no eggs to hatch and how they had both wished for a successful hatching. It was the same year he had learned that no amount of prayers prevented death. Yellow tongue fever had swept through the city and had claimed the lives of both of his younger siblings.
The healer had speculated that the fever might be the reason behind his lack of eggs.
Maybe she was right, but his markings had never turned this pink with his husband. His fathers had never gotten their wish granted that year or any other.
And he was afraid to try.
He hadn’t thought of that night in a very long time. Was that the clarity he’d asked for? A random memory resurfacing and demanding recognition. He didn’t need a temple attendant to interpret it for him. Its meaning was clear.
It wasn’t clarity he needed. It was the courage to release the past, as there was nothing he could do to change it, while acknowledging he could change the future if he was brave enough to take the offered opportunity.
He drew in a breath, tasting the smoke of the burning wishes and wood in the air, then popped the cake into his mouth. He would ask Dawson.
CHAPTER 25
The light from the candles had become too bright, and Dawson wasn’t sure why the hall was so hot. He hadn’t had that much to drink, mostly because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of management. They were still his bosses.
He glanced around the room, his vision smearing every time he turned his head, now filled with laughter and talking and music. The tables were filled with food and different drinks. Was he allergic to something he had eaten? A lot of it was far fancier than he was used to. Or perhaps it had been the liquor that had been handed out around the bonfire, he was sure he’d drank that before.
He took a gulp of water, not sure what was going on, only that he wasn’t feeling too good. He didn’t want to be rude and leave the feast early, but it was becoming harder to focus. Even sitting, he was beginning to feel dizzy.
Katrina put her hand on his arm. “Dawson, are you listening?” She frowned and stared at him. “Why are you so sweaty?”
“It’s hot.”
She continued to stare at him. “It’s not that hot.”
The engineer on the other side of the table laughed far too loud, and it echoed through Dawson’s head. “He’s had too much to drink and doesn’t want to admit it.”
