Chapter 38 : She Dances
The festival air shimmered with golden lanternlight.
Paper streamers swirled between rooftops, and the scent of honey-dipped apples, roasted corn, and cinnamon bread hung thick in the breeze. Townsfolk bustled through cobbled streets dressed in bright linens and flower crowns, laughing and weaving between stalls. Children darted about with glowing sticks, and the air pulsed with drums and laughter.
Rhea clung to Elias's sleeve like she was being dragged to her execution.
"I don't want to go," she muttered.
"You said you wanted to see the lights," Elias replied, carefully balancing a pair of candied plums in one hand and a hot mug of cider in the other. "This is the festival. There are lights. Mission accomplished."
"I meant from the window."
"You meant pouting on the windowsill with demon-sulking aura while the rest of us enjoy the festival?"
Rhea huffed and glared up at him. Her flower crown—daisies and thorny ivy—tilted lopsided over one ear.
"I don't sulk. I contemplate."
"Right," Elias said, deadpan. "And that kid you scared off earlier just happened to trip over your aura of deep contemplation?"
"He was throwing rocks at a duck."