T
he sun is an attentive presence at my back as I cut through the yard towards the feasting table. It spares none of us, our beloved sun. Not yet noon and heat rises already from the sandstone pavement in bright shivering waves, everywhere beached palace maids fanning their faces with cleaning rags as they bustle from pillar to unpolished pillar. I am still unfamiliar with the palace’s revolving cast of staff, and they with me; without my finery few of them recognize me, and I merely grin sheepishly as I am shooed from one maid’s path to another’s.
My stride is leisurely, as the temperature is at such an extreme that there is no danger of the sweets arriving cold and deflated to the table. A cart filled with white amaranthus skirts past me before pulling to a stop to unload. I pause to watch, my wing brushing up against the coolness of a (just polished) pillar. Dew drips like rain from the whispery flowers as the cart driver extracts them by the bundle and places them smartly in bottle-blue vases. From her pocket she draws out a bottle of colorless tincture, and squeezes the dropper into the vases: once for each bouquet.
The buds explode into vivid, kaleidoscopic bloom.
“A good day to celebrate that days exist, is it not?”
The voice, bright and chipper, drifts from somewhere to my left. I pivot away from the magicked amaranthus towards the glint of a green gem embedded in the center of a forehead where a unicorn’s horn would grow. I blink; beneath the gem is the smiling silver eyes of a boy, his coat brilliant crimson, rare in the muted palette of the Day Court—and memorable enough for me to attach a name to his face had I known it.
My tongue presses to the roof of my mouth as I tilt my head, regarding him. “As good a reason as any,” I oblige. It is the oddest greeting I have ever received—and useful too, for I know instantly from it that he cannot be aware of who I am. Comforted, I settle back against the pillar, my mouth curling up in amusement.
“I am Raglan, newly refamiliarized with Novus and a Solterran first timer—would you mind telling me what this festival is all about, and if any of your buns are eager to make my acquaintance?”
This time I do not attempt to hold back a snort of laughter. The temptation is too great; he is making it altogether too easy for me to slip into a role I have always wanted to play.
I look sidelong at that shining emerald before shifting off of the pillar and leaning towards him, my voice slipping out of the articulate accent of courtly Sahvahn and into a cool native slur. “Well, Raglan, Solterran first timer—” I pause to gesture towards the bustling maids, the dripping flowers, the platters of steaming food, “you have stumbled upon our midsummer festival, a tradition revived by our newest king. Bit early though. Festivities don't begin until the first bell at noon.”
The platter floating besides me bobs up and down as I nod at it, my voice dipping into solemnity. “And—I was tasked with bringing these to the table.” I flick my gaze to his, lowering my voice as a maid hurries past. My tail swishes casually against my leg as I pretend to weigh my options.
“Though I suppose one missing wouldn't be noticed.” I tilt the platter towards him.
a shard of god
in my mouth
BRIGHT SPLASH OF BLOOD ON THE FLOOR. ASTONISHING RED.
(All that brightness inside me?)
(All that brightness inside me?)
♦︎♔♦︎
