Leanán's house was above the shop. Three flights of stairs carved into the trunk opened onto warm, soft rooms. I hadn't seen anything like it for weeks. Living tree walls adorned with suspended lights dangling from branches protruding from the ceiling, piles of comfy cushions, and a fireplace nestled within the bark that miraculously didn't burn the tree.
Her actions were as fluid as water. She effortlessly parted curtains, lit objects with a wave of her hand, and distributed cushions and blankets, placing them in designated areas without asking where anyone wanted to sit. She already knows the answer.
"Bídeach, sit. Here. You look like you're about to fall over." She pushed Sióg onto a cushion, knelt in front of him, and held his face in her hands, turning it from side to side. "What happened to your cheek?"
"A branch. From the tree. When I was —"
"You were climbing trees?" She licked her thumb and wiped the dirt off his cheek. He winced. She kept his face in place. "Stop squirming."
"You're hurting me!" He protested.
"I am cleaning you. You're filthy. Do you remember when I used to bathe you when you were small? You would scream like I was drowning you."
"You WERE drowning me. You held me under —"
"Don't be so dramatic, Bídeach." She let go of his face. She patted his cheek, hard enough that it was almost a slap. "There. Better." She stood and faced me. "Come here, Red. Sit." She patted the cushion next to Sióg.
I sat. She leaned over and gently wiped something off my chin. Her hands felt warm against my face.
"There. Better."
"I — Yeah. Thanks."
She went to a chest against the wall, starting to pull clothes out of it. She moved quickly, holding things up and discarding them in quick assessments. "I keep pieces from the festival commissions. Samples, seconds, things that didn't sell." She took a long, black top, extended her arm, examined me, and then the shirt. "This. For you." She threw it to me. Then came a pair of fitted pants. "And these."
For Sióg she pulled out a linen, pale and simple lighter set. "These were for a boy who never came to collect them. Three seasons ago." She held them against Sióg's chest. "You might fill them out. If you eat." She shoved the clothes at him, and then she turned to Cruit.
She looked her over, evaluating her body.
"Hmm." She tilted her head. "I don't think I have anything that would..." Her gaze settled on Cruit's chest. She held it there for a moment, then lifted her eyes back up. "I could look in the back. There might be something from a few seasons ago. For children."
Cruit's jaw clenched. "I am fine with what I am wearing."
"Are you sure? You've been in those for days. They're not even yours, are they? They look borrowed."
"I said I am fine."
"Suit yourself, prionsín." She turned away.
Cruit was standing by the door. She hadn't sat down yet. The map was unfurled before her. It was the one Mags had given us, and she was carefully examining it.
"The western approach," Cruit said. "You mentioned you know the route. How many days from the city gates to the forest edge?"
"Mm?" Leanán was busy with a task involving folding. "One. Perhaps two if the weather turns."
"And from the forest edge to the lake?"
"Another two. Depending on the path." She wasn't looking at Cruit. Instead, she held the dark garment close to my chest, fiddling with the collar, with her fingers brushing my neck. "Hold still, Red. The collar needs —"
"Is there a preferred entry point?" Cruit pressed. "The northern approach or the western?"
"Western. The northern is swamp." She smoothed her collar down and brushed my throat with her knuckles. I forgot how to breathe.
"Will we be able to forage within the forest?"
"Carry everything. Nothing in that forest is safe to eat." She stepped back to look at me. Pleased. "That fits you well."
"The water sources," Cruit noted, indicating a location on the map. "Are there reliable streams or —"
"Prionsín." Leanán turned at long last. "You are tiring me."
Cruit stopped.
"You are standing in my home. I have offered you food, rest, and clothing. The night is young and the festival is once in a generation and you are standing there with a map asking me about water sources." Her gaze met mine. "Is she always like this, Red?"
"She's uh —" I looked at Cruit.
"She's relentless." Leanán turned back to the chest. "The forest will still be there in the morning, prionsín."
Cruit folded the map, precise folds. She remained silent.
Leanán told tales as she cooked. She moved around the kitchen, another room, deeper in the trunk, and she talked while cooking. She touched my arm when she handed me a plate.
"Bídeach was the worst with girls," she commented while stirring a pot. "He fell in love with every girl in the village. He'd follow them around with flowers he'd picked. Do you remember when you brought Eithne a dead frog?" She directed her attention towards me. "He'd heard that in human stories you kiss frogs and they become princes. He thought if he brought her a frog, she'd kiss him."
I was laughing, which felt strange after everything we'd been through. "That's actually kind of cute," I said.
Sióg's ears reddened. "It was not cute. It was devastating. First heartbreaks are formative. I've never recovered."
Leanán was watching me laugh. "You have a good laugh, Red," she said. "You should do it more."
She laid the food on the table. Warm bread. A root dish with herbs. Honey cakes for Sióg. He picked one up with both hands and closed his eyes.
"You remembered," he said.
"Of course I remember, Bídeach. I remember everything."
Leanán left the room. As she walked past, she lightly touched my shoulder, then trailed her fingers down the back of my neck. As soon as she was gone, Cruit appeared at my side, whispering in my ear.
"We need to leave."
"What? Why?"
"I do not trust her."
"She's feeding us. She's giving us clothes. She's helping us with the route. “You're the one that refused her help,” I sipped my drink, and it tasted sweet against my tongue. This stuff is better than Coke.
"She offered me childrens clothing. That woman owns a dress shop. She makes gowns for everybody in this city. She could dress me in her sleep."
"You're overthinking this. For once, we actually got lucky. Can you just chill?"
Cruit stared at me. "Chill."
"Yeah. Relax. Stop looking for threats in every —"
"I am not looking for threats. You are too —." She stopped herself. "You are not thinking clearly."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you have been useless since we walked through that door. You cannot form a sentence. You cannot hold a thought. You are behaving like a—like a—"
"Look," I said. "I get it. "She's intense. And yeah, she's gorgeous, and maybe you're —"
I stopped, but not quickly enough.
Cruit's face grew somber. "Maybe I'm what?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
"Say it."
"I just think maybe you're a little... jealous. Of her."
"No. I didn't say that."
"I am not jealous, Cassian. I have nothing to be jealous of. I am trying to keep us alive. We are here because my kingdom is in danger. Because there is a story that needs mending. Because there is a woman on an island who may be able to help. That is why we are here. Not for festivals. Not for dancing. Not for whatever it is you are doing with her."
"I'm not doing anything with her."
"Then start doing something useful. Read the map. Plan the route. Remember that people are depending on us." She stiffened. "Or don't. Sit on her cushions and let her touch your neck and forget everything. I will plan the route myself. As I have been doing. As I always do." She walked away, back to the door. Back to the map. She stood there again, tall and proud, with her messy braid dangling down her back.
Footsteps in the hallway. Leanán returned with blankets folded over her arms.
“What did I miss?” she asked.
"Nothing," I said quickly, mustering a smile.
Leanán looked between us and smiled. "Red, come help me with these. I want to show you where you'll sleep."
I went. She did so because she had asked, and because the room she was heading towards was warm and inviting, contrasting with the prospect of standing next to Cruit's silence.
I went, and Cruit watched me go, and I told myself it didn't matter.
“We're going out,” Leanán said. She was already bustling about the room, taking a shawl down from a hook, running a comb through her hair in a polished piece of bark on the wall. Sióg glanced up from his third honey cake.
"Out? Tonight?"
"The Rince Solais starts at moonrise. And after the dance—." She glanced over her shoulder, grinning. "After the dance is when the real festival begins. Do you remember, Bídeach? From when you were small?"
"I remember you pushing me off a platform into a crowd."
"And you danced beautifully on the way down." She wrapped the shawl around her neck. "I want to show your little human friends how we do things in Ard Doire."
I was already standing. "I'm in."
Cruit sat against the wall with the map on her knees, a crease between her eyebrows that had been there since our arrival. She looked up.
"It is not safe. Ríona made it very clear that humans are not welcome here. The festival grants passage through the city, not participation in —"
"Oh, prionsín." Leanán waved a hand. "Ríona says that to everyone. She said it about her own sister's last solstice. You'll be with me. Nobody will bother you."
"C'mon, Cricket. It's one night. When are we ever gonna be in an elven city during a festival again?"
"Ideally never. We are here because we were kidnapped. This is not a holiday."
"She doesn't have to come," Leanán said, already at the door. "She can stay here with the map. I'm sure the water sources will keep her company."
I cast a final glance at Cruit before I head for the door.
"Wait," Cruit said.
I turned. She was standing, folding the map.
"I will come," she said.
"YES." I grabbed her shoulders. "LETS GOOOOO CRICKET."
"Do not shake me."
"WE'RE GOING OUT. WE'RE PARTYING IN AN ELF CITY! Sióg! SIÓG. We're going out. Get up."
Sióg had already gotten up, holding on to a honey cake, glancing alternately at Leanán and the entrance.
"The parties here," Leanán said, leading us down the stairs, "are not like your human gatherings. There is no ale. No tavern brawling. After the dance, the canopy opens. The hearth lamps go dark. The upper platforms become... how do I describe it?" She stopped on the stairs and looked back at us. "Uninhibited."
"Uninhibited," I repeated.
"The elves shed their composure with the light. It is... a release. Centuries of restraint undone in a single night." She smiled.
"THAT SOUNDS AMAZING."
Leanán was giggling. Laughing out loud, she covered her mouth as I bounded down the stairs two steps at a time. "Oh, Red. You are exactly what this festival needs."
"LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO."
"Cassian. If you do not lower your voice I will push you down these stairs." Cruit.
Leanán swung the door at the foot of the stairwell open. The festival enveloped us, with its music, bright lights, the aroma of something sweet burning, and the drone of countless voices overhead. The city buzzed with life, with every lantern aglow. Every surface was aglow. Elves floated through the pathways, their hair flowing freely, their movements fluid. Meanwhile, the drums had started to beat from somewhere above us.
Leanán joined the throng. She reached behind her and took my hand.
"Stay close, Red."
Leanán seemed to know everyone.
Elves stopped her every few steps. They touched her arm, kissed her cheek and spoke in rapid elven. She replied without missing a beat, laughing, waving her arms, tugging me along by the hand.
Her hand was warm. I noticed this. As I was being escorted through an elven festival by a woman who was undeniably older than me in centuries, I found myself paying attention to many things I should not have.
Sióg followed closely behind us, evading blows to the elbows. Cruit followed him, with her arms crossed and her chin up, walking like someone escorting her to sentencing.
Leanán came to a halt at a kiosk nestled in the space between two gnarled roots. The woman behind it was older, with silver hair and slight laugh lines. She and Leanán clasped hands, leaning close and speaking quickly, smiling. The woman glanced at me. Back at Leanán, and raised an eyebrow. Leanán said something that made the woman laugh.
Then Leanán held up four fingers, and the woman reached under the stall and brought up a pitcher.
The liquid inside was a deep hue, not like the rich red of wine, but rather like the night sky. Inky, depthless blue-black, and, as she tipped the pitcher, something inside caught the light: tiny points, silver-white, suspended in the liquid, drifting slowly like they were floating. It seemed that someone had captured a handful of sky and the stars in a bottle.
The woman carefully filled four tiny glasses with a mysterious liquid. The liquid settled in each of them, and tiny lights kept moving inside them, orbiting each other slowly, casting faint pinprick reflections on the glass.
"Dorcha," Leanán said, handing out the glasses. One for me, one for Sióg, one for Cruit. She claimed the final one.
"What is it?" Cruit inquired, holding the glass at arm's length as if it harbored hidden motives.
"Traditional. Once in a century they make it. Only during the Féile Solais." Leanán raised her glass. "To my Bídeach. And to his strange, beautiful friends. And to the night, which is young and does not care about our problems." She tipped it back, taking a single gulp. Gone. She set the glass down, licking her lips. The drink left a faint shimmer on her mouth.
I drank mine. It hit my tongue and I tasted something dark and sweet. I imagined that it would taste like the space between stars. It wasn't like anything I'd ever tasted. It glided smoothly down my throat, then settled comfortably in my chest, spreading warmth and causing my fingers to tingle and my legs to momentarily become weak.
"Whoa," I said.
Sióg drank his quickly.
Cruit was still holding hers. She brought it to her nose and sniffed, frowning.
"Just drink it, prionsín," Leanán said. "It won't bite."
Cruit took a sip, then her eyes widened. She tilted the glass back and emptied it all in one gulp. She then placed it down. Her lips were parted and the stars shimmered on her mouth.
Leanán's face showed contentment as she watched this. The woman refilled the glasses without being asked.
Leanán pulled me into the dance.
I had no choice.
I stumbled right away. My foot caught on someone else's, and I stumbled forward. Leanán grabbed my waist and pulled me upright. She was laughing.
"Watch my feet, Red. Left, left, hop."
"There's a lot of hopping."
Everyone around me was graceful. Each one of them. They moved like the music was inside them, like their bodies had been built for this specific sequence of steps. Their feet barely grazed the floor, as if they were floating and gliding across it.
I stomped. Each step I took sounded as if I were trying to put out a fire. I had the sensation of my feet vibrating as compared to theirs, which was like observing a horse performing a ballet.
"I'm terrible," I said.
"You are wonderful." She whirled me around. I went. I didn't fall. She pulled me back in, her hands on my waist. She guided my body through the next sequence. "You're fighting the rhythm. Stop fighting. Let me lead." Her hand moved from my waist to the small of my back. "There. Feel the drum? Match it. Don't think."
I matched it, or something close to it. My feet found something that wasn't the right pattern, but was adjacent to it, and Leanán adjusted around me, making my stumbles look intentional. She folded my clumsiness into her grace. She dressed people for a living. She knew how to make things fit.
She spun me out. She pulled me back. I was laughing and breathing hard. Her face was close to mine and the drums were loud. The stars from the dorcha were still tingling in my chest. I was having... fun.
I turned my head and looked behind me.
Sióg sat at the edge of the square, perched on a root. He tapped his foot in time with the music, while the rest of his body remained still. Cruit was right beside him. Standing, arms crossed.
"Hey!" I yelled between spins. "Get in here! Both of you!"
Sióg raised his hands. "No. No dancing. Thank you."
"Cricket! Come on!"
Leanán cast her attention in the direction I indicated, then looked at Cruit and back at me.
"That one is a lost cause, Red." She said it light. "That girl does not know how to enjoy herself. She could not keep up with us if she tried."
"She can," I said. "She's just... going through a lot right now. We've been through a lot. I don't blame her for being wound up."
Leanán looked at me. Her smile remained, but her brows were slightly furrowed. She tilted her head, examining me closely.
"Come," she said. "The next part is faster. Stay with me."
She pulled me back in. The drums began to pound, and the dancers changed their movements. And I went because she asked, because the night was loud and bright. For a few minutes I didn't have to think about the forest, the lake, or the princess standing at the edge of the light, refusing to dance.
But I looked back, again.
Cruit was watching me. She looked away the second I turned, fast.
I turned back to Leanán. She wasn't smiling anymore.