Daivad wasn’t sure how it had happened without his knowledge, but by the time the light through the trees had turned a slanted golden, an area on the forest floor in the center of camp had been set, with wooden tables and chairs pulled from all corners of camp surrounding a low, makeshift stage, colored-glass lanterns full of glowstones floating slowly around the hollow, and flowering vines criss-crossing overhead, shedding petals gently and blanketing the hollow in a kind of sweet-smelling pastel snow.
“Fucking Tobei,” he growled to himself.
“He said you’d given approval,” Lenna said, appearing at his shoulder.
Daivad shot her a look sideways. It said enough that he didn’t have to: And you believed him?
Lenna shrugged, rolling a small, round pouch the size of an egg in her fingers, one of her hex bags. “You’ve given approval to a lot, lately. Things you never would’ve before. It didn’t seem far from possible.”
The dismissive gesture, the stiff tone wasn’t like her, not when she spoke to him. But before he could chastise her insolence, she had turned and walked away. It irritated him, far more than even he thought was strictly rational. But he didn’t look any closer at the irritation; in fact, he shoved it away and went to go pummel Tobei.
But, as he climbed into the trees and crossed bridges, following Tobei’s scent on the breeze, even Daivad could feel the shift in the camp. An excitement. Anticipation. Some carried baskets laden with fruit from the gardens, some had instruments strapped to their backs, and others chatted brightly about whether there’d be dancing at the meeting tonight, or whispered guesses at what the meeting would be about. At least until they saw Daivad coming.
It was dangerous to have the meeting on the ground, near nightfall. Unnecessary. They’d have to have more guards posted, which meant fewer would be there to hear what Nyxabella had to say. And if something happened, the responsibility wouldn’t weigh on Tobei’s shoulders, but his own. Of course, if he canceled the meeting now, or insisted it was moved, the camp’s disappointment would be on him, too.
A growl rolled out of him, making Tari give him a wide berth when she passed him by, eyes on her boots.
Fucking Tobei.
By the time Daivad tracked Tobei down in the distillery—of course, he should have known—his hands were primed for strangling, but he quickly realized there’d be no point.
Tobei stood in the middle of the distillery, balancing a jug on his head and waving off Ben, who was holding his hands to either side of the jug, laughing, just waiting for it to fall. It was obvious from the grin on Tobei’s face as well as the fact that he was putting a precious jug of some alcohol at risk that Tobei was already half gone. More than half. Yelling at him in this state would serve only to punish Daivad, not Tobei.
“All the way to the clearing,” Tobei said.
“With no hands?” Ben scoffed. “Not a chance.”
“Then bet.”
“You made me swear not to take your bets when you’re smashed, remember?”
“No, I don’t,” Tobei said proudly, making his way one step at a time toward Daivad in the doorway. “And I’m not smashed. Yet.”
“I’m not—”
“If you win,” Tobei pressed, “I back off from Jac.”
Ben paused. Gave a thoughtful frown.
Now extra annoyed that Tobei had denied him this small pleasure on top of already pissing him the fuck off, Daivad strode forward and snatched the jug off of Tobei’s head.
“Ay!”
Daivad shoved the jug into Tobei’s chest, knocking the wind out of him with a huff, and growled, “Tomorrow, when you’re hungover, you and I will talk.”
Then he released the jug, not caring that Tobei was too busy trying to catch his breath to take it from him, and as he turned to storm out, he heard the crash of the shattering jug, soon followed by Tobei’s hoarse, “No!”
Daivad’s only solace was that, as it was, he wouldn’t even need to participate in this meeting. He gave strict orders that everyone be back indoors by nine, about the time the sun was officially down for the night, then, as the sunlight faded, he found a low branch overlooking the clearing and settled onto it to watch the rest of the camp filter in.
Tobei played the part of host too well. He bounced around the clearing greeting everyone, and he stuck by their side until he’d gotten at least a chuckle out of each person. When Doll showed up with several people pulling handcarts stacked with steaming pots and pans, Tobei even managed to coax a blush and a giggle out of the old woman. Though she did follow it up with an affectionate gut-punch.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Daivad expected to see Nyxabella trotting along behind Jac when she arrived, but it was Ben instead. The sight of the hammer strapped to her back eased some of Daivad’s worries. Even if a monster made it past the guards, he felt sure it wouldn’t make it past Jac.
Jac’s entrance didn’t pass Tobei’s notice either—he quickly herded everyone with an instrument toward the little stage, then stepped onto it himself. He quieted everyone with a flourish of his hands, then launched into an incessant and over-long welcome to tonight’s camp meeting. He introduced, unnecessarily, everyone on stage and their accompanying instrument as if they hadn’t all known each other for months, at least. Or perhaps all of this was for Jac’s benefit. Then, he asked for a round of applause for Doll, and all the hard work she’d put into tonight’s dinner. Doll cussed him out to a chorus of laughter, but the second the attention shifted away from her, Daivad saw her dab at her eyes with the hem of her apron.
Finally, Tobei encouraged everyone to dig into their food and enjoy the twanging tunes of “Tobei and the Rebellion,” then tucked Nani, his violin, into his neck and whipped the bladed bow out of nowhere. He touched bow to string.
A jaunty tune that would sound at home in a raucous tavern burst forth, and as it always when Tobei played for fun instead of survival, a weight settled in Daivad’s chest. Watching the (for once honest) expressiveness on his face, the skill in his fingers, the joy in his steps, Daivad couldn’t help but wish he’d found a way to give Tobei a life on the stage instead of the battlefield. It was the same when he watched Ben pass a fresh-grown flower to Jac and was reminded of the years his hands had been made to kill instead of cultivate.
Daivad was the one meant for war, for death. Neither of his brothers had ever wanted this.
But now, the queen was breathing down his neck once again. The Colonel was.
Daivad frowned. He scanned the clearing once, then twice, but he knew that if she were here, he’d have noticed. She was a necessary part of this “meeting,” and he’d have thought the display below would be right up her alley. So where was she?
His stomach flipped—Mother Light, what had she gotten into now?
As if summoned from thin air, Nyxabella fell from the sky and landed next to him, making his branch wobble and startling him bad enough to jump. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually jumped at something. He wasn’t sure he ever had.
She crossed one ankle over the other and sat in one smooth movement, leaning forward to smile down at Tobei, now singing as he danced through the crowd, glowstone lanterns swirling around him. “He’s good!”
Daivad just stared at her.
She swayed in time with the music and let her fingers dance along. He was about to ask her what the hell she was doing when he noticed her scent. It was as honeysuckle-sweet as ever, and once again he drew in a breath without intending to, deep enough to make his head spin for a moment. But, accompanying her usual scent was something sickly, something spoiled. Anxiety—so powerful he could nearly taste it. Though her smile was gentle and her swaying seemed carefree, he heard her erratic heartbeat, her shallow breaths. It was far worse even than when he’d faced her in the ring earlier.
A second before he asked why she wasn’t down there in the middle of this party, he realized he didn’t have to. She was nervous out of her mind.
He felt a pang in his stomach. He hadn’t realized it would be that difficult for her. She’d be facing far fewer people here than she would have at her circus.
“You’re like a cat,” she said suddenly, and now he could hear the strain behind her light tone.
For a good minute, Daivad went back over the events of the last few moments to genuinely try and decipher what the fuck might have inspired that statement from her.
Finally, he just said, “...What?”
“Mm,” she agreed with herself. “The way you like to watch things from above. In that loft in the tavern in Urden. Then on the rooftops. You built a whole village up in these enormous trees, and your house is highest of them all. And now here you sit, watching your whole camp dance and sing, but hiding from them at the same time. Safely above.”
She nodded, considering her own words, then mused, “It’s lucky the Mothers blessed you with such height. You’re already kinda above everyone even with your feet on the ground.”
Daivad didn’t have much of a comeback. All he could think of was, “Well, you’re up here, too.”
She deepened her nods. “I like to be a cat sometimes, too.”
For a while, they watched Tobei’s show in silence and Daivad tried to keep his uncomfortable fidgeting to a minimum. But with her right here, he was hyper aware of his own body. How he was sitting, what his hands were doing. Every movement felt unreasonable.
Nyxabella, on the other hand, seemed totally unaware of not only him but herself. She would rock with the music and bump his arm occasionally, drop her head to one side, sending curls flying at him, and would hum intermittently. And as this went on, the sick smell of anxiety faded from her.
Daivad stayed still. He could handle a few more minutes of this.
As most of the camp finished their food, more and more people rose to join the dancing—or to head over to Jac’s table to try their hand at arm-wrestling her and winning the growing pile of trinkets and coins she’d earned in the last half hour. Tobei for once didn’t seem concerned with who, if anyone, was watching him—he’d set his violin aside, trading it for little Luelle, propped on his hip, as he danced around the stage. Daivad was a little surprised Abigail allowed Tobei to swing around her sickly daughter like that, considering how drunk he had to be. But Tobei’s steps were maybe more careful than he’d ever seen them. Including when he had a jug of whiskey on his head.
Daivad kept a close eye on the waning light, though he was reassured by the sound of heavy pawsteps passing through the forest behind him at regular intervals. Soon, though, he would have to break up this party and ensure even the drunkest of them made it safely through the branches to their home.
He hesitated. Her scent had only just returned to normal.
All he did was open his mouth and Nyxabella gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. No wonder Tobei calls you the fun police.”
Before Daivad could respond to that, Belle rolled backwards and flipped off the branch. Panic shot through him and he grabbed at her—but no need. She landed lightly on her feet. Like a cat. Then, after a shuddering breath that actually sent a shiver through her whole body, Nyxabella rolled her shoulders back and strode into the party.