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By the time Ēostre arrived, spring was truly making an appearance. Bright sunshine made its way through the rocky fractures and Fibonacci fern ringlets began to unfurl outside. Lanterns lit up the art people had painted from clays and berry dyes along the walls and above archways. Entwined line designs wrapped around small flowers and hares stretched in the general direction that everyone was going. Laughter carried through the open hallways and added something to those who wore their best clothes. They greeted each other as if they’d lived there all their lives, children darted between those who stood waiting for others, as well as those who headed in the direction of the open cavern outside the council space.
Áine, Ruari, and Emer had gone early, in their prettiest dresses. Emer wanted to help finish the decorations, and who was I to pass up some space? Áine gave me a don’t-worry-I-understand grin and said she’d meet me by the farm passage when food was ready. I didn’t know how I would know when the food was ready but decided to keep watch for eager buffet faces.
I had very quickly gone through the clothes I’d managed to fit in my backpack. I’d borrowed a couple more and tried to keep an eye out for what people traded, but that day, I made sure I was in a fresh shirt. Combing my fingers through my hair, I took in the music that a trio played on hand-drums just where the tunnel opened up. It looked like people had milled around enough that there was space, and nearer the way in from the woods, a white flash caught my eye. Stepping out from the drip of people, I followed the direction she’d gone.
I’d only seen Oona a couple of times since arriving. It felt like she’d kept her distance for a reason, but no one was sure whether it was the crowded nature of the caves, the fact that they were closed off, or something else entirely. I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t help but eye the way she had entered myself. Not for the first time, I thought about what I was doing here. If I knew how, I would help these people, rather than just drain their resources. I could look after myself. Except if I did, oblivion waited. And where was the edge of their generosity? Like I found myself doing more and more, I brushed the edge of my father’s key with the hope that I would find some of his courage.
Oona sat overlooking the stairways and passages, like she had when we first arrived. I approached her, walking against those heading further in but stopped a few strides out. I could make out her narrow face. She was focused on me like I was her— a ripple in her jowl sent a momentary shiver down my spine. Her gentle imperiousness returned when I stopped drawing closer. I didn’t understand and a tightness gripped under my throat. Had I broken whatever loyalty she had to my father? I looked around briefly and felt that everything was still safe, so tried again, hoping it had been a misunderstanding.
It wasn’t. She snarled again, and I wondered if she was trying to prevent me from leaving. I knew I wasn’t going to leave in that moment, but I also couldn’t face impacting Oona’s acceptance of me. I stood still, uselessly trying to transmit to her that I only wanted to go to her, until I was accidentally jostled by the crowd. She left my sight for a second and was gone after the figure had apologised to me.
After I lost sight of her, I meandered back to the open cavern with the water running through it. Groups of people grew louder, laughter flowed as free as the water, and the odd shout rose to be heard. I watched as the people around me remembered some of their own substance. Suddenly, I couldn’t imagine not exploring who I was further, as if collecting different experiences would help me find me that little bit quicker.
The smaller circle of rocks at the centre of the cavern guarded a fire on this occasion. It warmed up the space, even as the chasm above drew the smoke out. It was crowded but still seemed less lively than I’d expected, and nobody looked particularly hungry yet, so I took the time to continue walking around. Before the rock face covered with water, a row of barrels lined the edge near the entrance. Rough mugs, often used at meal times, had been laid out on a nearby table for everyone to use. I watched someone else go first before letting my hand reach for one.
Enid was the first one to break my solitude and make her way over. She greeted me in Sindaric, one of the phrases I’d picked up, and continued in something I fully understood. “I hope you have fun at our humble gathering. It happens to be my favourite from across the year, we’re always planning the next special day.”
She didn’t phrase it like a question but paused anyway, as if I would respond. My thoughts rested on the small Christmases and birthdays that Mum used to throw me, I wished I’d intentionally enjoyed them more. Would I remember Ēostre celebrations if we'd stayed together?
“Do all races celebrate the same days?” I asked, stepping to the side briefly as a line of people ran after each other.
“We find our own meanings,” she said, raising her mug to someone nearby, “but isn’t it just nice to make something special of the everyday?”
Perhaps because of the closeness of the council chamber, I quickly began to notice others waiting a polite distance away. They were close enough for me to know they waited for one of us, but not familiar enough to be for me.
Thinking of the little opportunity I’d had over the past weeks, the words ran from my mouth. “Am I allowed to know if there’s been any news about Mr Wilkins?”
Enid’s hand raised as if to place it comfortingly on my shoulder, only she left it poised above me. “It’s looking positive. We’ve been working on a new agreement, communications are just slow at the moment. We’re all here if you need support, though.” One of those waiting took another step but Enid took the time to smile and make sure I was okay, before greeting the closest person.
As my attention shifted, two or three others that had been talking or laughing began to head towards the valley. I took that as my cue about the time and finished my drink. Unsure what the layout would be, I made my way to refill my cup before finding Áine. The warmth from the fruity drink let me know it was probably fermented, but I let it burn away my apprehension about the amount of strangers around.
“Morgan, hurry!” I heard Ruari call, and I looked around to find them. They stood to the side of the central tunnel back out to the valley, many others waited too. Emer and Ruari had been sprayed with paint, their cheeks covered in ochre freckles and dark green vines that came to life across their faces.
“Wow, looks like you’ve been having fun already!” I said as I walked over. They pulled silly faces, exhibiting more of their face-paint whilst Emer stammered, her accent thickening in her excitement.
“It was to be thrown away. There’s music!”
Áine clarified, “It’s what they used to paint the walls. It’ll wash off. Hungry?”
We traced the steps of the crowd as the music began to get louder again. I turned back to the girls. “Do either of you play?”
Emer stuck out her lip and gave Áine a glance before shaking her head. Áine smiled and pulled her sister in for a quick side hug. “Oh, you still might. Ruari could play the flute well when she actually practised.” Their sister stuck out her tongue in response.
The rock opened up around us and twilight descended in its place. Winter clung to the edges of the fading light, where it was last to feel spring’s arrival. Clouds passed slowly, revealing the occasional early star. Further away from the cave systems, musicians and performers had crowds around them as others skipped to the rhythm. We came to a natural pause, where I took the opportunity to look at some of the faces around us. In our mornings helping, I’d met a few of them and seen more on the way to do their own work. Áine waved when a couple called a greeting.
“I think there’s roasted dishes over there,” she said. “That looks like raw food...”
People laughed and chatted as paths between them led to tables of food and drink. Not far from there sat a small pile of naturally coloured candles, their intricately woven carvings catching the fading light. At the heart of the festivities stood the bones of a proud bonfire and, as the sun dissolved, it was lit to an escalating cheer. People gathered around the catching flames, faces revealing the hope their springtime belief gave them. In that moment, the drums and string instruments renewed their vigour, and couples and families joined hands to commence the dance.
“Oh, there’s someone I want you to meet! She arrived yesterday!” I was pulled from my watch, over to a woman standing by one of the food tables. She looked about ten years older than I was and cautious when we approached. Her brown hair was twisted back into an elegant crossed bun whilst the collar of her coat stood tall.
“Hello again,” Áine called. “Morgan... this is your second cousin, Hazel. Your dad’s father had a sister. When I heard she was visiting for Ēostre, I just had to introduce you. Her side of the family was given a gate further north.”
Hazel looked me over and, unexpectedly, drew me into a light hug. “I can’t believe Peredur had a daughter too, another gatekeeper in the family at that. Your father helped guide me when I was a girl, but he eventually stopped coming to our gatherings.” She paused, taking in my unspoken question. “My grandmother is quite... traditional... and I believe your mother is from this world?”
I nodded, taking another mouthful of drink to clear the sticky feeling my throat had. Áine asked Ruari to get candles from a nearby stack.
“Some still believe our lineage needs to be kept pure...”
“Your parents didn’t keep in contact?”
“For a while.” She nodded. “It was hard for my mother when my father was injured, and they retired to Falias. They were able to look after my grandmother there too.”
I stumbled over how to ask about their safety when Ruari returned, candles cradled in her arm, and handed one to each of us. The flames from the bonfire were dancing higher, and families started to move forward to carefully light their candles. Some of the candles were carried around, each one a work of art, though many others were placed on a makeshift altar adorned with fresh flowers and offerings of gratitude.
“Come on, then,” Áine said to the girls when a space opened up. “What do you hope the new year will bring?”
Hazel and I stepped up behind them. She briefly invited me to go ahead of her before she said, “They signify the renewed energy, a reminder that it’s all a cycle, even in the darkest times.”
I didn’t feel lighter. I could see how important the sentiment was to them at that time, but I had to fight an overwhelming urge to throw the candle in and watch it all waste away. I tipped the wick into a nearby flame trying not to think about it much more.
As far as I knew, they were still nursing their first mugs of mead, but I took the chance to step away and found a nearby barrel. After melting a little wax onto the table, I planted my candle alongside the cask and refilled my drink. My face was already pleasantly numbed against the night. I wanted to relax and let the warmth in my chest hold back my doubts for another night.
Shouts of joy joined the song as children ran about gleefully, their faces painted with flowers and spirals. When I returned, Emer was pulling Ruari into line and Drust had joined Áine and Hazel in conversation. The girls raced along with the others, finding district members handing out the flower crowns. As the night wore on, the dance became a whirl of spinning bodies and swirling skirts, feet tapping to the rhythm of the music.
“Will it all be back to work as normal tomorrow?” I asked Drust. He’d already refilled his cup too and had eyed a particularly raucous group on his way back.
“There’s a day’s grace or so. Some might find friends to change duties with them, but the day after will probably be normal. Don’t worry, I won’t ask too much of you.” I didn’t think it would matter anyway, if anything, his reactions only made it more difficult to listen to the world around me.
“How much ‘grace’ do I have?”
“Before what?” He glanced at me. Áine and Hazel were intent on their own conversation, and an odd laugh broke from my roommate.
“Before I’m asked to leave and left to the shadow.” I avoided his look and watched Áine gesture a dance invitation to Hazel. One side of Hazel’s mouth raised in a smile, and Áine left their mugs on the ground near our feet and twisted into the dance.
He lowered his voice, “Morgan, I don’t follow the Seelie blindly. My interests align with theirs, but I follow my own conscience. If our instincts can bring us together, why would we leave you to die?”
It helped in that moment and added to the glow I felt.
“What were you worried Áine had told me before?”
He nodded his head away from the crowd in a where-it’s-quieter motion. We left the relative warmth of the bonfire, and the current musicians grew quieter as those around us thinned. I felt so comfortably numb that I didn’t care if we passed the ward’s edge.
Drust looked around, his normally controlled expression departed. “This okay? It’s not something I like to talk about really, not that it stops people from judging anyway.” I met his gaze and nodded without really looking around. I could still make out the celebration in the distance, and the intermittent lanterns gave us enough light to make each other out, but we were still detached. His eyes relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen yet, his dark eyebrows straightened into open regard. He suddenly cleared his throat and took off his jacket, draping it over the grass and offering me the first place.
I tilted my chin, unable to hide a small smile. Even if it meant grass stains, I was careful not to take up more than half of his coat, consciously arranging myself. I knew I shouldn’t care really, but my blood fluttered when he sat facing me, arm resting on one raised knee. I finished the rest of my cup, hoping that sip to be the miraculous, steadying sip, and kept hold of the empty mug.
“My family,” he began after finishing his own, “my blood family have done some questionable things, lied, corrupted, all but committed the treason themselves, but as I was a baby when my mother and grandfather were killed, I was offered to a barren couple since my father wasn’t around. I don’t know what I’d do without them.” After a moment’s pause, I wondered if his adoptive parents’ situation was so hopeless that any consolation would be useless, but he cleared his throat and continued. “There are those who believe the corruption is in my blood, that I’ve got some innate allegiance to the Unseelie. People don’t recognise me but... they know the name. Sometimes I think I feel it, a deep selfishness, but I’ve worked so hard to get where I am on my own merit. People who doubt me will always believe I’m part of some grand plan.
“When the council first asked me to help you, I wondered if they were setting me up to fail”—his eyes held mine—“but I’ve seen you work with the old magic, and everything I’ve learnt in my work tells me that you can reach what the Unseelie want... if that’s what you want.”
I wanted to steer us back, the conversation was getting uncomfortably close to the what-ifs that shadowed me. “What drew you into your work?” I sat a little taller, adjusting the recline I’d fallen into. The celebration continued a comfortable distance away, as if I’d found a solitary contemplation place, but we’d found it together.
“Well, it’s a science really, a tool, and learning more about it can only give us progress. And we like to celebrate that.” He inclined his head, just for a moment, eyes focused on me in the same way they had when we’d first met. “Do you know what else we celebrate on Ēostre?”
“Are you just giving me a line?” I smiled, willing my breath to come back. He raised his eyebrow at the same time a smirk hovered around his lips.
Leaning forward and lowering his voice as if giving me a secret, I barely caught his next words. “Can I kiss you?”
I wondered if my response would’ve been different if the mead hadn’t softened the edges of my world. I didn’t think about the situation these people had been put through, I didn’t think about trying to channel whatever gift it was that I’d supposedly got from my father, I didn’t think about leaving. Casually mirroring him as he drew closer, I nodded. My heart thundered.
Soft. Hot. Cautious. It was a caress, and it sent sparks among my butterflies. All I wanted was sensation, to let go of my mind but still have something to hold on to. I kissed back, and his mouth became firmer, more resolute. His hand came to the back of my neck, holding me close. My other senses dulled even further, the warmth from the alcohol spread throughout my limbs as my skin tingled in delight.
I guided my lips to his scarcely bristled jaw for a breath, to bring my body in, to press my chest closer to his. He didn’t let go, trailing his kiss down to reach my throat. When we found each other again, hands found arms, waists, exploring. The music in the distance seemed to fade, becoming a hum in the background. I didn’t care if everyone celebrated all night or became something quieter. I didn’t care if anyone were to walk by, seeking their own place. I didn’t care if someone thought it was wrong.
Taking my confidence from his embrace, I fell back onto one elbow, my clothes tickled as much as the grass. He retreated to a hand-span away, checking I was okay before joining me. I was selfish and, in my mind, he was too.