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The sun is slowly making its arc across the sky from east to west, dipping low. Low enough for me to realize that no matter how busy I’ve managed to keep myself, its position is a constant reminder that Sully and the boys have not retuned. It is a reminder of the feeling that I had when I left. A reminder of the feeling that persists despite my efforts to distract myself with party preparations.
The party, as momentous of an event as it is, and how it commemorates the most important event in the history of Urthmen and humans thus far, seems insignificant without my family here. I’m worried. And my worry grows with each minute that passes.
Clenching my jaw, I grind my molars so hard I feel as if the enamel will splinter. Pressure builds between my shoulder blades. It creeps up the back of my neck until it reaches my temples and pounds there. I ignore it though, lifting a pumpkin and setting it down beside a mum plant. The courtyard has been decorated simply but tastefully. Wooden tables and benches have been arranged with vibrant swaths of material covering them. Arrangements made of pinecones and orange and yellow flowers serve as centerpieces. Pumpkins alternate with mum plants and line the cobbled path that leads to the courtyard. Always a hub for bustling activity, the courtyard has been transformed to the scene of a massive celebration. One that I can’t seem to be enthused about no matter how hard I try.
“Please come home,” I mutter under my breath to no one. A rush of emotion constricts my throat and tears burn my eyes. I lift my head and swipe at them with the back of my hand. I’m overreacting. I have to be. Nothing that I saw made me feel uneasy. Or did it? Instinct warned me at King Garan’s castle, whispering against the nape of my neck and raising the fine hairs there. But I discounted it to some extent. Now, as my tear-filled eyes scour the festive courtyard, I ask myself silently, “What if I was wrong to leave? What if I was wrong to leave my two young sons and husband behind? What if they’re in danger?”
My heart hammers and my mouth goes dry. Something feels wrong. I sense it.
In the distance, I see Oliver and Lark approaching. They’ve just walked beneath a trellis of carved wood. Interwoven through the intricate latticework are orange, yellow and red flowers tied together. It is the very same trellis under which they promised themselves to one another ten years ago. The same one under which Sully and I made that promise three years before them. The memory of both is bittersweet, though I can’t quite articulate why.
Lark’s long hair is swept up into a ponytail and showcases her graceful neck, the late-summer rays bathing each strand with fiery highlights. Oliver is beside her. He has grown into an impressive man. With looks that are similar to his late brother, Will, he is tall and broad through his shoulders with bronze skin that looks perpetually sun kissed. His turquoise eyes meet mine and immediately his smile capsizes. He speeds their pace and is before me within seconds.
“Avery.” Oliver says my name immediately. Clad in a button front shirt and dark pants, his brow lowers and his gaze grows intense. “What’s wrong?”
I stall, unsure of exactly how to answer. Anything I say will not be based on anything tangible, just on a gut feeling. On fear. I don’t want to ruin what is supposed to be a joyous evening for them with worry that’s unfounded. They’re like family to me, though, so it’s hard to keep from sharing.
“Nothing really,” I say.
A crease forms between Lark’s eyebrows as they gather. “What is it, Avery?”
“N-nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just me being pulled in ten different directions today, I’m sure,” I reply as I massage my temples with my fingertips. “Sully and the boys aren’t back yet. They stayed behind with Garan and went to Cadogan’s brother’s vineyard for wine for the party.” Even as I say Cadogan’s name, an unmistakable yet inexplicable pit forms in my stomach. I don’t mention it to Oliver and Lark, however. Instead, I continue. “I thought they’d be back hours ago, but they’re not...” I leave my sentence unfinished.
Relief smooths Lark’s features. “I’m sure they’ll be back any minute.”
“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. “John and Will probably convinced Garan to take them on some kind of adventure.” He chuckles, knowing all too well how much my boys love to explore every corner of their surroundings. “And they’re so cute no one can say no to them.” Oliver shrugs, the compliment rolling of his tongue so offhandedly it’s stated as if it is a fact not an opinion.
I rake a hand through the front of my hair. “Thank you,” I say. “But Sully and Garan know that today’s a huge day. They know how much preparation and planning is going on.”
“Yeah, but they can’t say no to John and Will,” Lark laughs.
I wish I felt as lighthearted about it as she does. She’s right of course about Sully and Garan indulging the boys in time spent wandering about and learning all there is to learn about the places they visit. Under any other circumstances I’d accept what she’s said. But nothing about their absence feels right. And given the importance of tonight’s events, I’m confident that both Sully and Garan would be capable of withstanding the begging, and saying “no”.
“I know,” I reply feebly. “I just hope he gets back soon. There’s still so much to do. It seems like this day is moving faster than any other.” I shake my head.
“I know what you mean,” Oliver agrees. “I can’t wait until everything is done and we can just relax. Eat and drink and celebrate.” He places his hands on his hips and scans the courtyard. The setup has moved smoothly, minus what I’m feeling regarding Sully and our sons. Were it not for that, I would be elated with how well things went. But fearing for the safety and wellbeing of my children and husband has set me on edge. “I can’t believe how much we’ve accomplished, how far we’ve come.”
I realize Oliver is speaking about the actual time, effort and energy that went into the celebration, but what he’s saying also speaks to the broader picture. The reason why we’re celebrating. Peace is not an easy feat. Especially not when factions have been warring so long the mutual hatred is practically engrained in either side’s DNA. For centuries, the Urthmen were spawned to hate humans. To eradicate us. And we were born with an innate fear of them as a result. Unraveling the tightly woven fabric of hatred and fear is a process, one that’s been successfully achieved.
“We really have,” I reply.
“You did a great job, Avery. You should be proud. Of everything,” Oliver adds. His eyes meet mine. The sincerity he conveys warms my cheeks.
“Thank you. But everyone has worked hard. I’m just a small piece of the puzzle.”
“Avery, without you, there wouldn’t be peace and there wouldn’t be a party. In fact, most of the people here wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you,” Oliver says.
“I don’t know about all that,” I start, but Oliver stops me.
“Well I do.” He smiles and raises his brow, playfully defying me to argue. “And I speak for everyone when I say we are grateful.”
“Thank you, Oliver,” I say with genuine gratitude. I’m humbled by his words. The sentiments he’s just expressed merge with emotions already fraught with worry and the rest of what I want to say catches in my throat.
“It’s the truth.” He shrugs.
Lark smiles and nods. After a brief pause she says, “I guess we’d better get back to work.” She inhales deeply. The rich scent of herbs and meat are carried on the slight breeze. “Mmm. It’s going to be hard to work smelling that stew cooking!” Her smile widens, lighting her entire face. The expression is so lovely, yet all I can think of is how Cadogan’s smile didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. It died on his lips. Experience has taught me to be wary of a smile that dies on the lips. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving!” As if on cue, her stomach growls loudly. She laughs. “Oh gosh! How embarrassing! Excuse me.” A rosy hue tints her cheeks prettily.
Laughing, Oliver says, “Sounds like a Lurker in your belly!” With both hands, he tickles her sides playfully. Lovingly.
“I might just be as hungry as a Lurker so you’d better watch out,” she plays back at him, raising her hands and bending her fingers like claws.
“Your Lurker wife will be fed soon enough.” I try to sound as cheerful as they do, but to my own ears I sound robotic.
Oliver and Lark smile and laugh. “I think that’ll be my new nickname for you,” Oliver says. Then to Lark he gestures, waving her toward him as he turns to walk away. “Come my little Lurker. We need to get out of Avery’s way and get back to work.”
Lark folds her arms across her chest, feigning annoyance. She doesn’t budge.
Oliver, who’s already begun walking, stops and turns. “I guess I’m carrying you.” He smiles impishly and moves to sling her over his shoulder. Lark squeals and shoos him away.
“Okay, okay! I’m coming!” She laughs. “See you soon, Avery,” she says to me.
“See you in a little bit,” Oliver waves and smiles before turning and draping his arm over Lark’s shoulders.
I watch as they make their way across the courtyard. When their shapes have disappeared, I allow my head to droop, my chin lowering to my chest and I release a sigh. I set about returning to the task at hand.
I’m not sure how much time has passed but guess it’s been an hour when I can no longer continue with my chores. Sully and the children have not returned yet. It is beyond uncharacteristic of them and I can’t ignore the worry winding its way around my gut like barbwire. I inform the group nearest me that I am going to my residence to see if anyone has radioed from King Garan’s camp.
Following the cobbled pathway I’m only vaguely aware of the buzz all around me. The excited chatter. The laughter. The sound of hammer strikes. The clack of wood being stacked. All of it fades. All I hear is my feet taking turns hitting the ground and the sound of my heartbeat until I reach my residence. Passing two guards near my front door, I inquire if anyone has heard from Sully or Prince Garan. No one has heard from them. My heart plummets, and I climb the staircase two at a time until I reach the second floor.
“They aren’t back yet?” a voice asks.
I spin and see June. Her hair is down instead of plaited in a braid that falls to the small of her back. Waves of bronze, gold and streaks of palest blonde spill like liquid sunlight to her waist. Her silvery-blue eyes, filled with their usual determination and focus, are tinged with worry. Still, she is the epitome of beauty. Of poise. She also happens to be one of the deadliest people in all of Cassowary. Coined the finest archer here many years ago, June has grown into a formidable woman. One whom I respect and admire in addition to loving unconditionally.
“No, they’re not,” I reply. I do not bother trying to hide my worry from her. I rub my forehead. “It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t feel right.” I don’t need to elaborate. My sister understands my thoughts better than anyone I know. She’s also a worrier, just as I am.
Leveling me with eyes as pale as ice over water, June says, “I don’t like this, Avery. Sully would never leave you to plan and set up alone. He’s one of the most responsible people I know. This isn’t like him.”
“I agree. That’s why I’ve been worried sick all day. Honestly, I was worried the minute I left King Garan’s castle. Something about Cadogan didn’t sit well with me. But I just figured I was overreacting. Being overly protective of John and Will.”
“You are very protective of them. And you’re a worrier. But you’ve got good instinct.” June’s hands are low near her thighs. I doubt she’s aware that she’s wringing them so hard that her biceps are bunching and flexing.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re not helping here. You’re supposed to talk me down. Talk me out of being such a mess,” I say only half kidding.
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze drops and suddenly she looks half her age. She looks like the little girl who used to clumsily heft a wooden sword to train with me. Only now, willowy limbs that looked too frail to hold the sword have been replaced by cords of toned muscle. June looks and is strong and capable. When her eyes meet mine again, she says, “Garan is with them. That’s what makes me feel like maybe I’m worrying for no reason. Garan is the son of the King and has his army there with him. No one is messing with Garan. And if no one is messing with Garan, no one is messing with Sully and the boys.”
She makes an excellent point. The irony of my reaction to all of this—my suspicion—is that it falls on a day when all of the suspicion should’ve fallen. Ten years is a long time of peace. Perhaps my suspicion is nothing more than a refusal to part with outdated thinking. A predisposition to judge and suspect when I should give the benefit of the doubt instead.
“June, thank you,” I say. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a mess all day and in all likelihood for no reason whatsoever.”
June smiles a smile that could brighten the sun. “Garan would never let anything happen to Sully, and certainly not the boys. They probably got wrapped up in something John and Will were over the moon and excited about and lost track of time.”
I exhale and feel as if some of the weight I’ve carried all day has been alleviated. “Thanks June,” I say.
“For what?” Her brow furrows and she cocks her head to one side.
“For being the voice of reason. I made myself crazy all day. If I’d have just come and talked to you, I’d have been fine.” I make a sound somewhere between a chuff and a laugh.
“You are fine. And the boys and Sully are fine. And the party is going to be fine.”
“Fine? Not great?” I quirk a brow at her and ask.
“Well no, not great,” June replies.
I roll my hand forward to encourage elaboration.
“Peter won’t be here. It won’t be the same without him.” June frowns.
“I know,” I nod. “I wish he was coming, too. But with the new baby it would’ve been tough for him and his wife to travel.”
Peter, the first Urthman I ever befriended, who was largely responsible for our survival and happens to be one of my best friends, married a few years ago. He and his wife just welcomed their first child into the world two days ago, which wouldn’t be a problem if he stilled lived in Cassowary. But since he lives in a small town about three hours away, attending the party isn’t a possibility.
“I know, and I’m so happy for him and Adele. But he was such a big part of all of this.”
“He was. None of this could’ve happened without him. He fought alongside us and really showed me that trusting an Urthman was possible. He opened my eyes.” I bob one shoulder. It is true. Peter dispelled any prejudices I had against Urthmen, which was quite a feat considering I’d narrowly escaped being bludgeoned by them on more occasions than I could count. They killed my parents. Killed everyone they came across. But Peter wasn’t them. He changed my views.
“Mine, too,” June says.
Several beats pass before I say, “I guess I’d better get ready. It’s just about time to go down to the party.”
June nods and I hurry off to my room to change my clothes. I slip into a fresh shirt and pants and step into a pair of boots that are less worn than my others. When I rejoin June, we do not have a moment to spare. Guests have already arrived.
As soon as I cross the threshold, the scent of wood burning greets me. Day has almost surrendered to night. Dusk has settled. The temperature has dropped. With June beside me, we cross a grassy expanse where we find the trail to the courtyard. Flames from tall torch-like structures have been erected and send warm light across the cobbled pathway. In the distance and growing closer is the center of the courtyard. A fire pit glows there brightly, a large animal carcass on a spit above it, roasting. Long, rectangular tables with long benches on either side are laden with more food than I ever dreamed I’d see. Vegetables of every kind have been cooked and placed on long wooden platters. Several different meats sit beside the vegetables on similar-looking trays. A stew with a thick, rich broth, vegetables and meat is in an enormous pot, the contents so hot it sends aromatic waves of vapor rising from it. The scent would ordinarily make my mouth water, but admittedly I haven’t fully shaken all of my nervousness. Especially since the party is underway. All around me, Urthmen and humans are bustling. Meat is being carved. Baskets of fruit are being carried. Plates are being passed. I’m amid a flurry of activity so grand I feel as if I’m inside a great hive of bees.
June leaves my side, excusing herself to say hello to Oliver and Lark. Her absence affects me more than usual. Jitteriness takes hold. Likely a combination of hunger and residual nerves, my hands tremble. In an attempt to consciously calm down, I tell myself Sully and the boys are somewhere in the crowd. Surely they’re here by now. And their arrival would garnish tremendous attention. Everything is fine, just as June says it is.
Taking a deep breath, I wade through throngs of people and arrive at a massive pot. I serve myself some of the stew I’ve been smelling all afternoon, much to the delight of my growling belly. Vegetables and rabbit meat in a thick, rich sauce. I stir it, distracting myself for a split-second. But I can’t seem to lift a full spoon to my lips and haven’t taken a bite when an endless stream of Urthmen and humans inundate me, stopping to visit and chat. All exchange pleasantries, commenting on what a wonderful time they’re having and how it is a fitting way to commemorate such an important date in history. I smile and nod. I shake hands with some and trade hugs with others. My responses are fluid. All the while, however, my gaze flickers to the crowd, hoping to see John, William or Sully. Each time I do not, anxiety returns worse than before.
Darkness falls. The navy sky is alight with a full moon and countless stars. I try to enjoy myself but with each second that ticks by, worry consumes me further.
I’m on the verge of fleeing the party and assembling a small group of scouts to search the area when Lark approaches me. Her eyes are filled with concern and her tone is apologetic when she says, “No word yet?”
“Nothing,” I reply and feel my stomach bottom out.
“Oh.” Her eyes widen fleetingly, divulging her surprise. But she recovers quickly and clears her throat. “Avery, I know you’re worried but I’m sure everything’s okay.”
Funny, she sounds far less convinced now than she did earlier. “I’m not so sure, Lark. I’ll feel better when I see them.”
“I know.” She clears her throat and shifts her weight from one leg to the next. “I know you’re worried and probably not feeling like it, but you need to say a few things, make a toast or something.”
I nod in agreement. She’s right. I don’t feel like making a speech. I don’t even feel like being here at the moment. But I do have to say something to acknowledge why everyone is celebrating. “Lead the way.” I gesture with my arm out in front of me. Lark turns and makes her way to a small clearing. Oliver is there waiting. He grabs a cup and fills it with a concoction of alcohol I most certainly won’t drink and hands it to me.
“Climb up onto the bench.” He points to the empty wooden bench nearby.
I take his suggestion and climb, standing atop it. As soon as I do, the surrounding Urthmen and humans begin hushing each other. Before long, the courtyard is as still as a tomb. Lifting my cup, I begin speaking, raising my voice to so that everyone in earshot can hear me. “Today is an important date in the history of Urthmen and humans. Today marks the tenth anniversary of the Treaty of Peace.” Clapping begins, thunderous applause ringing out and filling the entirety of Cassowary. When it dies down, I say, “It is a day many of us never thought we’d live to see.” I pause and watch as heads bob somberly and mouth the words “yes” and “it’s true”. “But it is upon us. And we are grateful!” Applause erupts again. As soon as it quiets, I say, “Welcome to Cassowary, please eat, drink, and enjoy this celebration!” Cheering and clapping rushes on a deafening roar. Urthmen and humans bang their cups against tables while others pump their fists.
Amid the celebrating, a voice calls out. The clamor grows silent. “We have a gift to thank you!” it says.
I look over and see a small group of Urthmen walking toward me. One holds a box with a gold ribbon tied around it. Each year that Cassowary hosts the celebration, a gift is presented. Though I am uncomfortable receiving a gift for my role in the planning and preparation of the celebration as I believe it is a group effort, I accept it to not offend the Urthmen.
“Thank you very much,” I say.
The Urthman carrying the box raises it up and hands it to me. He promptly turns on his heels and rejoins his group.
The box is heavy in my hands. I can’t imagine what it is. It is typically a small but ornate token of the King’s esteem. Never a heavy item as this one is.
Smiling, I tug the loose corner of the ribbon tied in a pretty bow. The bow unravels and the silky strip of fabric falls to the ground. I’m about to lift the lid of the box when I look out and spot Cadogan in the crowd. Relief fills me. If Cadogan is here then Prince Garan is here. And if Prince Garan is here, Sully, John and William are, too.
Heart pounding and smile genuine for the first time all day, I immediately look around. But I don’t see Sully or the children. Or Prince Garan. My gaze returns to Cadogan, puzzled.
“Where are Sully and the boys? And Prince Garan?” I call out to Cadogan. But Cadogan doesn’t answer. Instead, a smirk slithers across his face with serpentine deliberateness and freezes the blood in my veins.
“Open your gift, Avery!” he hisses.
With trembling hands, I lift lid of the box. I gaze into it and for a moment, the sight my eyes behold doesn’t register. I look away from it and spin. I look all around me, vertigo coming out victorious in the elaborate game of tug it plays with the anxiety-riddled dread that’s laid claim to me. A black, bottomless pit of raw and awful fear wells inside me. I look again and freeze in terror. The world around me lists violently. The current of blood behind my ears rushes with such force all that’s left in its wake is a ringing sound. My grip falters. The box I’m holding falls to the ground. As soon as it lands, King Garan’s head rolls out onto the grass. And in the moment it does, my world divides. Life as I know divides. It was as if a massive, finely-honed sword landed against it, cleaving it in two with a mighty thwack. The part of me that adhered to the belief that I was safe, and more importantly that my family was safe, to a sense of hope and peace and sanity, is falling away. I wonder whether Sully and my children have suffered the same fate as King Garan.