Scarlight: Book One in the Castles of the Eyrie series by Evie Marceau

Author:Evie Marceau [Marceau, Evie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

23

THE HARVEST GATHERING…A BONFIRE…PASSED AMID 3 BROTHERS…BLINDMAN’S DANCE…AWAY FROM THE CROWD

As Bryn and Saraj made their way over the sea dunes to the beach, Bryn gasped at the sight of the festival bonfire. It nearly took up the entire width of the beach from water to dunes, built at low tide so that as the tide slowly came in over the course of the night, the flames would be doused by morning.

Now, however, the flames rose twenty feet high, sending sparks dancing up toward the stars. Out at sea, anchored rowboats held lit tallow candles and lanterns, looking like bobbing stars floating on the sea’s surface. A trio of musicians played a rousing jig as villagers dressed in golds and sage greens danced in each other’s arms. There were no formal velta dances here, only clasped arms, dizzying spins, laughing couples.

The pine liquor Saraj had given Bryn was starting to work its magic, unknotting Bryn’s worries except for one: Where was Rangar? Wasn’t he coming? It didn’t have to do with her brother Mars’s seizure of the Mir throne, did it?

“Trei!” Saraj unlaced her arm from Bryn’s when she spotted the eldest prince drinking from a jug with several fishers on the far side of the bonfire. Saraj raced over the sand and launched herself into his arms, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Trei grinned at her, obviously deeply in love. “There you are, my beautiful lady. You do realize that I’m crazy about you, don’t you?”

Saraj tugged the jug out of his hands with a mischievous spark in her eye. “Well, I’m crazy about this cider…and I suppose you aren’t so bad yourself.”

Bryn stood to the side, hesitant to intrude, until Trei motioned her over. “Princess! Come. Dance with Baer’s finest fishers, won’t you? Yager here might look quiet, but he’ll give you a whirl as you’ve never had.”

One of the younger fishers, a lad around Bryn’s age, grinned sheepishly and offered her his hand. Bryn hesitated before slipping her hand into his calloused one, and suddenly, he spun her in a circle with surprising strength, lifting her clean off her feet. After her initial shock wore off, she laughed and laughed.

Cider and mead flowed steadily throughout the night. Everywhere Bryn turned, someone was either pushing a jug of liquor into her hand or else snatching the jug away and leading her in a dance. She twirled around the bonfire with farmers and hunters, messengers and cooks. The village children ran through the crowd with flowers in their hair, waving ribbons on sticks, playing little pranks on the grown-ups.

But where was Rangar?

As the liquor started to go to her head, Bryn found herself at one point dancing with Trei, surprised by how tall he was and how solid his shoulders were, and then in the next instant was passed to Valenden. Where had the middle brother even come from? Apparently, the middle prince had bled into the crowd sometime during the evening when Bryn hadn’t been paying attention.

Valenden’s

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