Celebration

  Galendria Silverstem, my friend,

  I’m sorry to have gone like this. I wanted to tell you, but it would have been for your harm. Please know that, Kitaryn aside, you were the only good thing about this place. I will miss you.

  Regards,

  Fennorin, exile

  P.S. Send my sister my love.

  Re-creation of a Ruined Letter

  c. UE 2250 (126 years pre-recollection)

  Four months pre-recollection

  Music wafted over fresh snow, muffled by the powder that coated the pines between Fenn and the source. He should have been dancing with Gale. It was their party. He needed to make a show of happiness, of excitement. He only felt dread.

  Boots crunched behind him in the snow.

  “There you are!” It was Gale, and her voice smiled to see him.

  It wrenched the dagger this betrothal had placed in his chest. “Here I am,” he said.

  “Ah! The sunset. I can’t say I blame you for preferring it. You’ve never liked parties.”

  He especially hated them when he was called upon to dance. That was most of this particular party. The sunset reached its golden rays between the peaks of neighboring mountains. At this time of year, the early sunset landed in the lowest point of a valley between two crests, smattering the mountains in gold.

  “It almost feels like it was painted for us.” He heard the snow protest as she settled beside him and threaded an arm between his elbow and his side. Her feet dangled freely over the edge of the bluff where his toes nearly scraped the next ledge, and she kicked hers merrily to the music.

  She had been the last one to speak, so he felt he should say something, but nothing seemed right.

  “Do you remember this place?” she asked.

  He smiled to himself. In spite of, or perhaps because of, its proximity to her family’s house, he had been to the viewpoint many times. The first occasion had been as a witness for how she could make her voice echo back to her from the ridge. After that, he’d come here to sketch the skyline at least a hundred times in all seasons. “Yes, I believe the first time was a winter where it had not yet snowed, and we yelled to our echoes until our voices were raw.”

  “That didn’t take very long for you,” she said.

  “No, but you could get your echo to sing back to you fully four times over before it faded.”

  Her head bumped against his bicep and she sighed. He tried not to flinch at the familiarity. They were betrothed to rear a family, so what did he expect? For her to remain a polite one pace away from him? Not when she didn’t know he’d been forced into this.

  “Did you miss it?” She asked.

  “The view? I’d say so. Somerville’s forests have their charm, but it doesn’t hold a candle to this. I must’ve drawn this skyline a hundred times before–” before my father burned all my notebooks. “Before I left. And even a few times after.”

  “Hold a candle?” Her hand squeezed his elbow, her head still leaned against his arm. He thought it would squeeze the heart out of his chest. Here she showed so much warmth and trust, and he was only going to leave her again.

  “A human saying. Comparing candles to fire. Sorry.”

  She nodded against him, and they sat like that while the song ended. A bird repeated the final three notes, trilling them over and over, but a new song did not start. Gale’s feet still kicked merrily, setting her celebration-yellow skirt dancing. The pink began to turn red in the sky.

  “Fenn, when you left, you tried to leave a note.”

  He regretted the way his breath hitched immediately. “Yes, I did.” He’d always wondered if she’d gotten it. “But why do you say ‘try?’”

  “That night, it rained. By the time I came searching for your things, it had been ruined.”

  “Ah.”

  “What did it say?”

  He felt her head lift from his arm. When he turned his head, her eyes, glossy green and glittering gold, were staring at him. That close, he could almost have seen her better without his glasses.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Liar.” She pouted.

  He was lying, and it scared him to be called out so quickly. He sighed and watched her feet grow still.

  “I told you that I was sorry for going.”

  “And?”

  “I would miss you–and Kitaryn. And to send—”

  “Send your sister love. That part remained.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  She kicked his calf gently. “Miss me, of course. Because I think I’ve made myself clear on my side.”

  He observed her earnest stare, but escaped it to gaze out on the sunset, now darkening to purple as the sun itself grew red. On his walks alone across the fields and forests, had he not often remembered her songs? Would he not see flashes of her smile in the petals that fell in the spring? When a horse would spontaneously frolic in its own strength, did he not think of how she would have loved it? “I don’t think of people often when they’re not around, but from time to time, I did think of you.”

  Her head shifted, and he became aware that it was her nose, now, not her forehead pressing into his bicep. He could not help how he stiffened.

  “Did you always mean to come back?” she asked.

  When he turned to look at her, her eyes were closed, her forehead and nose buried in his sleeve. Both of her hands gripped his forearm, one from the inside, one from on top. Though her grip was loose, he felt it choked him.

  This fondness she felt, it would only hurt her. He had to tell her the truth. He had to tell her now.

  “Gale, I never intended to hurt you.”

  “I know,” she said against his sleeve.

  “But neither had I intended to return, nor do I–” intend to stay.

  Her head jerked up at the sudden sound of singing. “Cheers to the happy couple. Cheers to their kitters. May the seasons’ blessings make them many litters!”

  Gale giggled. “It sounds like they’re looking for us.”

  He slid down from the ridge onto the ledge under his toes. He needed to tell her now. Before he lost his courage. He stood in front of her, uncomfortably near for lack of footing. “Gale, there’s something I should tell…” When she turned to face him, her cheeks were flushed well beyond a chilled pink. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, her crimson blush spread into her eartips, rushing down into her neck. “...you.” He stared, completely losing track of his words. She’d never, ever, been that embarrassed. It made him blush, too, though he didn’t have a reason for it. It was snowy and frozen all around, but suddenly he prickled with sweat.

  Her chin tucked into her neck and she averted her gaze. “We’d best return before they send a search party for us.”

  She wriggled back from the edge, and he raised a hand to help her scoot without having to bury her fingers in frozen powder. Her other hand found the skeleton of a cedar that he had used to sit in the first place, and she hoisted herself up.

  He leapt up after her, landing a little too close to both her and the edge. “Just, I need to tell you this one thing.” While I still feel brave enough.

  “Fenn,” she clasped his hand which had supported her and tugged him away from the edge, “whatever it is, we have ages to speak to one another. Right now, we are overdue for our own closing dances.”

  That explained why the music had stopped. It also meant the party was almost over. Thank the gods.

  He followed her through a cluster of pines. “Are those the ones we’ve been practicing?” He had never actually attended a betrothal party since he was tiny, so he had been entirely unprepared. Unprepared except for their dance practices, which he now understood as necessary.

  “Yes, yes, and they are waiting on us!”

  She hauled him toward the party. They had only a few cedars between him and utter embarrassment.

  “Wait!” He pulled her to a stop.

  “What?” her eyes went wide.

  “I think I see them!” Somebody said.

  The last light glowed red against her skin, picking up the bronze hues so that she glowed in her yellow dress, bright against the snow like a dandelion. There, staring at her on the edge of their own betrothal party, he completely wimped out. He couldn’t cause a scene. He… her eyes sparkled as she searched him–he couldn’t ruin her day. She’d said it herself, they had time to talk. He had a few more months to let her down. He could let her have this one day.

  “You have pine needles in your hair.” He plucked a cluster of them out.

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Are you ready, then?”

  “Never, but I don’t suppose that it makes much of a difference, does it?”

  She smiled. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Any other man would have been overjoyed to have such a lovely woman smiling on him, but Fenn was broken. He only felt guilt. He only knew that he would leave her behind. His consolation was that she would move on. He’d left enough journals around town rambling about his guilt and his father’s threats to protect her. Her life would move on from him, as it had done before.

  They plunged back into the fray, Gale still dragging him by the hand.

  They were met by a chorus of cheers and hellos. “Well! Where’d you get off to, then? Not getting an early start, I hope?” An uncle of hers teased.

  Her face reddened again, but she was grinning. “I think there’d be a bit more evidence if that had been the case.”

  “Eh, you’d be surprised, gal, but then I guess your not knowing is evidence enough!” He laughed with a few others.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Fenn’s belly queased. Gale was grinning. She glanced at him apologetically, the color deepening further. It finally hit him. Her coy blushes and sparkling grins weren’t about the party. This entire arrangement had been her idea. She was excited to get started with what was for her the next logical step in her life: a family. And he was the chosen partner.

  If the thought of fumbling through the dances in front of all those people had intimidated him, the thought of her expectations mortified. She could want to get started quickly. No one started right away; that was why the joke was funny to everyone else. But he might not have months, like he’d thought, before he had to confront a very different problem.

  Even if he had not planned to leave, he could not have fulfilled this betrothal promise anyway. The only thing that terrified him more than unreachable truths was the thought of the intimacy required for family-making.

  One thing was sure: he absolutely should’ve told her.

  She pulled him along into dances that he could barely remember to songs he could not recall having ever heard. All the while, his mind raced for how he might delay the impending expectation. There was the step of declaring shared residence, but he already lived on his own. She only needed to move in with him. Then the trivial dinner party for all of their friends, of which he had none to present and she had many. And the formal announcement, nothing but a slip of paper given to the government. That was all.

  His steps tripped in spins, and they nearly bumped into another couple every time. This song cycle had four dances, first with all the married and matronned couples, then the two of them with all of the children in a line dance, which was only a few and made Fenn’s back ache to bend to include them, and then anyone present who wished. And then it was the two of them alone. Even if it was his hand on the backs of her shoulders, there was no doubt who led that dance. He fumbled every catch and missed every cue to turn together, always making her stumble.

  Another thing to add to the list of activities he was useless in. Not that the information was new to either of them. At least she smiled.

  The song slowed to its end, and he finally did remember to brace her for a small dip. It received a hearty applause, as did the band when they bowed. Finally, he and Gale bowed and shook hands with a train of guests, and people trickled away. They were left with only her parents and a few cousins to clean up.

  Fenn went to work on the streamers while Gale cleared away leftover food with her mother. He didn’t need a ladder to reach the decor, just a bit of stretching on his toes.

  Tablecloths were folded, flower baskets emptied and piled. He was collecting paper lanterns from their lines, blowing them dark, when a hand rested on his side. He turned his head from the lantern he’d just unhooked only to feel her press against his other side, warm against the cold of the night.

  He placed the lantern on a table with one hand, but could not lower the other without wrapping it over her. He hesitated, looking down at her.

  Her one arm was still wrapped all around his low back, and she squeezed him with it, smiling up at him. He tried not to panic, thinking of how affectionate she was becoming.

  “Thank you for doing this,” she said.

  Relief let him pat her shoulder, even if the angle was awkward. “Ah, of course I’d help clean up. It was our party, even if your family hosted.” She wasn’t about to ask about moving in, like he’d feared.

  “No, Fenn.” She bumped her forehead against the corner of his chest, her other hand now resting against his side. “I said thank you. For agreeing to be my partner, even though you were hesitant.”

  He finally recalled that thank you were the faerie words. The I-owe-you words. Some kind of whimper gurgled in his throat before he cut off his own air. She was thanking him for a lie.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He shook his head. That had not been laughter.

  She bunny punched his rib. “I’m over here being sincere, telling you how grateful I am, and you are laughing at me.”

  “I’m not laughing,” he gasped.

  Something in his tone stilled her. He couldn’t bear to look at her.

  “Fenn,” she tapped his side, trying to gain his gaze. He flinched from the itching tickle that zipped through his ribs, and he grabbed her mitted fingers to make it stop. He had to look to do that. Her eyes sparkled, the gold flecks in her hazel blazing in the remaining lantern light. “I’m excited about this,” she said. “Aren’t you?”

  A sincere question that deserved a sincere answer. He wished he possessed a fraction of her confidence so he could say what he meant and fight for what he really wanted. He shifted, moving his side away from her so he could fully face her. He put a hand on each of her arms, and set her at arms length. He had not realized how cold it had gotten until she was no longer pressed up against him.

  A feature of his height was that he always hunched at the shoulder, but he bent and buckled until he was nearly eye-level with her. He swallowed, squeezed his eyes, then forced himself to face her fully. She was worried, her gaze tracing every detail of his expression.

  “I never thought anyone would even consider me for something like this, Gale. Never. And then you, the very best of them–” that was as far as he managed before he choked. I can't do this.

  Her brow wrinkled, her lips wobbling. “Aw Fenn.” One of her hands reached up from him, but held at arm’s length, the only thing she could reach was his arm. She changed gestures, her mitted thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

  His heart hammered at him, raging to escape. All of his secrets came rushing to the tip of his tongue: his research, his father’s threat of search and seizure if he didn’t patron for her, his intentions to leave for the Fae. The very next week he’d be trouncing on his first exploration. Not if she was moving in, trying to start something he couldn’t finish. But to tell her would be to make her choose: tattle on him or become an accomplice. He didn’t want her to make that choice. He didn't want to know which she would choose.

  “Gale, I’m frightened.”

  “Fenn,” she was whispering now. She used her other hand to bend one of his elbows. “It’s natural to be nervous. We don’t have to–”

  “Frightened,” he insisted.

  She pushed aside his arm, managing to place herself in between them. Her mits found his cloak’s collar, and she pulled it tighter around him. It was just an excuse, he realized, to be near him, to stare straight into his eyes. “I’m not going to make you do anything you aren’t ready for.”

  “But–” she already had, with his father’s help. He had not wanted this betrothal.

  “I won’t. No one gets started right away, Fenn. And frosts, you weren’t expecting to ever do this? I wouldn’t be prepared either.” Her mit lifted to his cheek briefly before she placed it on his chest. “We can take our time. Just tell me when you are rea–”

  In one motion, he straightened and pulled her against him, pressing her against his chest. She didn’t know the favor she was doing him. She didn’t know how she saved him, or herself. And only for him to soon abandon her again. He had never ever wanted to hurt her. Now, he didn’t have to tell her. He didn’t have to make her choose between lives. She could have the one she’d always wanted just as soon as he left.

  “Thank you.”

  She leaned against him, wrapping her arms around him to squeeze him back. “I’ve waited this long. You didn’t suppose I could wait a bit more? Only, let’s try not to wait until people ask questions.”

  It could be most of a year before anyone started asking. He sighed out and leaned over her. He could have rested his chin on her head, but instinct led him to rest his cheek. Has she always smelled of honeysuckles? “You were always the one good thing about this place,” he breathed. He’d said it, the thing he’d wanted to say all those years ago, in his note.

  Her hands pulled at the fabric of the cloak on his back. “And Kitaryn.”

  “And Kitaryn.”

  “And the sunsets.”

  He choked out a laugh. “And the sunsets.”

  Belaer Silverstem watched the kids embrace, Fenn’s breath puffing in clouds over his daughter’s head. He put his cheek to her hair, and the wavering of the clouds told him that the young man whispered to her.

  She looked so small in his arms, barely rising to the bottom of his chest and drowning in the length of his arms wrapping around her back. It appeared like if he squeezed, he could break her.

  “Well, if that isn’t the most surprising love match of the season.” His wife, Alva, was smiling from the chair across from his, watching.

  “Is it?” he asked.

  “Maybe you saw it coming, but most of us never expected the betrothal to make it this far. I mean, Fenn is nice, but he’s just so… odd.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I meant that if the boy is in love, then I would guess that not even he is aware of it yet.”

  “Half the nation is aware of it. Look at them, Belaer.”

  He did. And he saw Fenn’s hands remained on Gale’s shoulders, and it was his brow that was pinched forward, not his lips. He could just as easily have been cradling his little sister. No, he loved Gale very much, which was why Belaer had agreed to the match, but he was not in love with her. This embrace, and all of his gestures toward her, lacked the sensuousness of young love. Perhaps, in child-making, that would change. But this night, they were not a love-match.

  “I don’t know, my love. Even late at night with a betrothal formally signed, he makes no tenderness.”

  “Really, dear? They were gone together for twenty minutes at least. He’s had time.”

  “He was gone by himself for double that.”

  “He’s always been a loner. And besides, she’s always had a softness for him, even in childhood.”

  That Gale was in love, he did not doubt. “I just don’t think he’s in love, yet.”

  “But then what is he saying to her like that if it isn’t sweet nothings?”

  That, Belaer could not argue against. He hated to imagine what whispers were falling into his daughter’s ears. No one, man nor woman, deserved her heart. And here the local, well-meaning stranger was taking her from him.

  He didn’t even have a job. Belaer had offered him one. He had plenty of employment for a bright young man. But Fenn had refused, claiming to have other priorities at the time. The gold kept coming for his bread and water, though, and minted with a human head on it. It always met their scales, so no one complained, but… it was strange. He’d come into that money outside of their borders. It just seemed like if he planned to live out his days in Etnfrandia, he ought to reintegrate, and that would include gainful employment.

  The kids pulled apart, and Gale launched to her tiptoes to plant a swift kiss on his cheek. Fenn looked as surprised as Belaer felt, and it took the lad a moment to recompose himself and resume his work pulling down the lamps.

  Gale skipped over to them, her cheeks bright. She plopped on a third chair around the outdoor seating arrangement and melted onto the table before them. “Ack! He can just be so sweet when you least expect it.”

  Belaer chuckled. He had heard those words a few dozen times. Now he had a better idea of what they meant. “Did you enjoy your party?”

  “Atti, Matta, it was wonderful! You are the loveliest hosts in Etnfrandia!” she grabbed their hands and squeezed.

  “And you say that, not even knowing you missed Uncle Verni eating the whole caper pie in one sitting,” Alva teased their girl.

  “In one sitting?” Gale gaped.

  “Yes. You should’ve been there,” Belaer said. It was the lightest reproach a parent could manage.

  “I’m sorry I missed it!”

  “What were you two off doing anyway?” he asked, trying his best not to be concerned.

  “Just talking. We had a nostalgic talk at the viewpoint.”

  He smiled to hear it. In a way, he was almost jealous. He could have known his wife for even a hundred years longer if he’d met her as a child.

  “Well, if you finally got to talk, how much longer do we have you at home for?” His wife pushed some hair behind Gale’s ear as she spoke. “Because, as much as I’m going to miss you, I do want to see some grandbabies!”

  Gale’s beat-red blush returned. “Matta!”

  “What? You have to get used to the idea! It’s just about that time!”

  “Actually…” her eyes trailed away as she sat up to have a serious conversation. “He’s having a hard time adjusting to the idea. I told you before that he always seems a little jumpy when I touch him.”

  Belaer glanced at his wife, lifting a brow in an I-told-you manner. Only the corner of Alva’s mouth hinted at a scowl. “Yes, and how is that going? Are you taking my advice?”

  Advice to touch him more, no doubt.

  “Yes, and I think he is getting a little more used to it. But I also think I understand why now.”

  “And?”

  “He’s a lot more than a little nervous. He…” she ducked her head and whispered, “I don’t think he’d ever considered the reality of the thing before.”

  Both parents' brows shot up and they looked at each other.

  For a man over two-hundred to not have really thought of sex, much less dreamed of it, seemed like a stretch to Belaer. “What are you saying he never considered, exactly?”

  “A family!”

  Belaer snickered, rubbing his eyes. “Oh my, daughter.” But then, maybe her misspeach had stumbled on to something. The way he held her was very pure. It could be difficult for him, if he’d only ever thought of Gale like a sister, to try and make the shift.

  “You thought…!” Even her forehead blushed red. “Atti!”

  “Well, there isn’t a reason to be ambiguous about a family, darling!” Her mother explained.

  Belaer was glad he wasn’t the only one thinking it. “So, how long, then?”

  “We didn’t make an agreement. I told him to tell me when he was ready, and of course not to be too long because I don’t want people to wonder. Even if we proclaim residence, it’s not like anyone would be surprised if it took us a while.” She frowned. “I should point that out to him.”

  No time limit, she had agreed to wait. If Fenn was the political type, Belaer would have been concerned by that. But Fenn was no manipulator, so he chose not to overthink it. Fenn had been honest with his daughter about his feelings. They could all be patient.

  He watched Fenn blow out the last of the candles and set them in a pile. He looked weary, but peaceful. Yes, patience would see everything resolved.