Before long, the distinct sound of crete flutes, hand drums, and tambourines rose above the hum of voices. Immediately, crete couples paired up to dance to the lively tune. They certainly did enjoy their music and dances. Everyone from Landale stayed clustered together for a while as Balen and Lord Vallan spoke to each other and others who came and went.
After a couple of songs, Trenna appeared and joined their group. The crete girl had more beads in her hair than earlier and green paint highlighting her tattoos. She grinned at Kyrin. “Aren’t you going to dance?” She cast a prompting glance at Jace.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kyrin replied.
Was her hesitation for Jace’s benefit, or did the size of the crowd make her reluctant? It was one thing dancing in front of friends back at camp but something else entirely to join in on a crete dance in front of half a city.
“I’ve danced to some crete music but not much,” she continued.
“Don’t worry about it,” Trenna said. “A lot of us aren’t even good. We just like to dance.”
“We’ll see.”
“All right, but I hope you change your mind. It’s really fun.” Trenna’s infectious grin turned to Kyrin’s left—to her brothers, specifically Michael. He gave a shy smile in return before looking down bashfully.
“Do you want to dance?”
His head shot back up at Trenna’s question. He glanced around before meeting her eyes. “Me?”
She nodded.
“Um, sure.” He smiled again, his eyes alight with both nerves and excitement.
Trenna grabbed his hand, and they headed off toward the other couples.
“Someone’s going to be good and disappointed when we have to return to Landale,” Kaden said. He and Marcus shared a laughed, and Kaden glanced at Talas. “Looks like we might end up really being family.”
Talas grinned good-naturedly. Apparently, he had no qualms about his sister’s potential interest in a non-crete. “Might as well make it official.”
Kyrin shook her head at them. “Come on, Michael is still just a boy and already you’re playing matchmaker.”
Marcus shrugged. “Father was nineteen when he married Mother. Michael’s less than five years shy of that.”
“Well, he’s always going to be my little brother.” Kyrin looked between them. “Besides, you two aren’t even married yet.”
Talas slapped Kaden on the back. “We’ll have to go about fixing that, now won’t we?”
Kaden shook his head. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m perfectly capable of deciding who and when I want to marry. And I don’t see you out there dancing with a special girl.”
Talas shrugged. “True.”
Jace chuckled at their banter. Thank Elôm that he had Kyrin and wasn’t the object of any matchmaking schemes.
Conversation continued as they watched Michael and Trenna and the other couples. Kyrin seemed to enjoy watching the lively dances. Whenever Jace looked at her, she wore a contented smile on her face. It was good to see her so relaxed after the stress of arriving at the Tarn’s house. In the midst of these thoughts, he caught sight of a couple of young crete men nearby. The way they looked at Kyrin spoke of obvious interest, clearly not put off by the fact that she was human. And she did make an attractive sight standing there—Jace didn’t dispute that—but they would have to look elsewhere for the attention of a girl. He moved closer to Kyrin, enough to gain their attention, and gave them a cool look. Not necessarily threatening but enough to let them know Kyrin was taken. They seemed to get the message.
Jace scanned the area for any others who might have the same interest. It would probably be a good idea to make his claim clear, and there was only one sure way to do that. He looked down at Kyrin. “Let’s dance.”
Her eyes widened as she looked at him. “You really want to?” She glanced around. “It’s a large audience.”
Jace nodded without giving it too much thought. He’d done all right in Landale—in fact, he’d even ended up enjoying it—so he could manage here. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
Her smile blossomed. “I don’t mind.”
He offered his hand and, feeling surprisingly confident, led her closer to the bonfire where another lively crete dance was underway.
Leetra crossed her arms and surveyed the gathering. She used to enjoy these parties . . . years ago. As a child, she’d raced around with Talas and their other family and friends getting into all sorts of mischief. Something about the nighttime air, bonfire, and music always put them in a rowdy mood. A smile tugged at her lips when she spotted a couple of her siblings dashing past just as she had once done. One of her little sisters let out a squeal, and she laughed.
But it caught in her throat when she spotted Timothy nearby. She narrowed her eyes. Two young crete women stood talking to him. One, a girl even more petite than Leetra, with the largest and most brilliant green eyes she had ever seen, giggled and gazed at Timothy adoringly. He smiled kindly at them but didn’t appear entirely comfortable. Leetra rolled her eyes with a huff and determined to ignore them, setting her attention on the nearby dancers. Five seconds later, her gaze shifted back to the trio.
She wasn’t jealous. No. Those girls just didn’t know half the man Timothy was. But who cared? She didn’t . . . she really didn’t. She stiffened, her blood zinging through her veins. What if he was doing this purposely to make her jealous? Yet, the thought died instantly, along with her ire. Timothy wouldn’t do that. Falcor might have, but Timothy? Never.
The musicians started a new song. One of her favorites, actually, before memories of Falcor had tainted it. She scowled. She’d sworn never to dance to it again . . . but . . .
She grumbled to herself. Fine. She would save Timothy from an uncomfortable situation and that was it. It wouldn’t mean anything. After this, he was on his own. If he didn’t avoid the girls, that was his problem.
She marched across the gap between them, her beaded braids slapping her back. Though the music and conversation covered the sound of her footsteps, Timothy noticed her coming, and his sudden diversion of attention alerted the other girls. All three stared at her. She set her focus on Timothy.
“Do you want to dance?” She only realized after the words left her mouth how perturbed she sounded, but she wasn’t doing this for fun.
Timothy glanced at the two girls. Leetra speared them with a stern look as well. They exchanged glances and shifted back a little. Satisfied, she fixed her gaze on Timothy expectantly. If he was so sweet on her then he’d be a fool to turn her down.
Finally, he smiled. “I would like that.”
He gave the other girls a parting nod, and Leetra spun around, heading toward the dance. Drawing near to the other couples, she turned again to let Timothy catch up. When they stood facing each other, neither acted for a moment. Only now did it sink in that she’d saved Timothy from an uncomfortable situation just to land herself in one. She’d forgotten they actually had to dance together.
With a hard breath, she put her hands up. Looking much more comfortable than she was, Timothy stepped closer and put his arm lightly around her waist, taking her hand in his free one. This was probably the closest Leetra had ever been to him. She swallowed, her throat suddenly prickling and dried out.
Timothy easily took the lead and guided her into the midst of the other dancing couples. As soon as they settled into the rhythm, he spoke.
“That was rather abrupt.”
Leetra looked him straight in the eyes, daring him to imply she’d been rude. “They don’t deserve you.”
Amusement played on his face. “Do you even know them?”
Leetra huffed. “Yes.”
Well, maybe she didn’t know them, but she knew who they were.
He stared down at her with a slight smile, and her heart sputtered. He was the perfect height, she couldn’t help but notice—tall by crete standards, but not too tall. She gave herself a firm mental shake. It didn’t matter how tall he was.
“So
who does deserve me?” he asked with a teasing tone to his voice.
But Leetra wasn’t joking. “I don’t think anyone could truly deserve you.”
All hint of teasing and amusement faded from Timothy’s face. His eyes deepened. “I can think of someone.”
Leetra couldn’t tear her gaze away at first. Brown eyes were so strange for someone with crete blood, yet they were so . . .
She jerked her head down and focused on one of the buckles of his jerkin, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze again. “Well, I can’t.”
A long silence fell between them. When Leetra couldn’t stand it anymore, she chanced a peek up at Timothy. He was watching her, a soft, almost sad expression on his face. She did a double take. Falcor had never looked at her with such tenderness. Not once.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
She barely heard his quiet voice over the music but felt every word. When was the last time someone other than her family had called her beautiful? She couldn’t even recall a specific time Falcor had—not that she wanted to. And she hadn’t even dressed up for tonight like all the other girls. She was just the same as she always was.
She struggled to swallow again. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she fought to stop the walls inside her from crumbling. It would be easy to let them fall away—far too easy. But there were reasons she had built them in the first place. She straightened her shoulders and the walls with them. Disappointment crossed Timothy’s face, but she would not be swayed.
They finished the dance and came to a stop near the bonfire. Having accomplished her mission, Leetra turned away from Timothy, but her hand remained captured in his. She tugged against him, but he wouldn’t let go. She looked back to send him a glare, but his expression was too kind to follow through.
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep on? When was the last time you spent a night at home dancing?”
He had a point, and she could enjoy it if she let herself. It wasn’t as if she had anyone else she preferred to dance with.
“All right,” she conceded, but this time she would keep her walls strong and intact.
Kyrin’s delightful laugh mingled with the music as she and Jace both missed a step, putting them completely out of rhythm. But Jace didn’t care. He loved to hear her laugh and see her having such fun. It didn’t matter who was watching. They tried to get back into the rhythm of the music but failed miserably.
“I think we’d better give it up,” Kyrin said with laughter still in her voice. “This one’s far too complicated for either of us.”
They stepped away from the dance toward one of the refreshments tables. After so much dancing, Jace could use a drink to wet his throat. At the table, they found at least five different types of punch filling the air with a tangy, fruity scent.
Kyrin looked at him. “Which one do you think?”
He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, why don’t you try one and I’ll try another?”
He nodded, pouring himself a glass from a large bowl of cherry red liquid while Kyrin served herself from a bowl of darker purple juice. They each took a sip, and Kyrin made a face.
“This one’s a bit tart.”
“Try this instead.” Jace gave her his glass of much smoother and sweeter punch.
She smiled her thanks and sipped it, nodding. “Much better.”
Jace tried hers. Though tart, he didn’t mind. They both turned to watch the dancers, all silhouetted by the large flames of the fire. After a moment, Jace looked over at Kyrin, and his gaze settled on a pale ridge along her left shoulder not quite hidden by the blue paint.
“How did you get that scar?” he asked.
“I was eight,” she replied with barely a pause to think about it. “One of the bullies at Tarvin Hall pushed me, and I fell into the edge of one of the stone benches in the courtyard. It really wasn’t much more than a scratch, but it did hurt at the time.”
Jace pulled his brows together in a frown as he thought of a young Kyrin in such a hostile environment. She deserved to have had a happier childhood.
However, she smirked. “Kaden gave him a bloody nose.”
A smile crept to Jace’s lips. At least she hadn’t had to face it alone.
“That was the first of many fights he got into, mostly on my behalf.”
“It’s good to know he took care of you.”
They shared a smile, and Jace had to fight the pull to draw her close and kiss her. They were in public, after all.
The music stopped abruptly. Jace turned toward the dance where the couples looked around in confusion. Then he spotted a group of mostly younger crete men making their way through the gathering . . . straight toward King Balen and the others from Landale. Stiffening, Jace set his cup aside and took Kyrin’s hand securely in his as they moved to join the others before the group of cretes reached them.
Jace and Kyrin reached the others at the same time as Michael and Trenna—just before the group of cretes did.
“This doesn’t look good,” Kaden muttered.
Jace glanced around. Everyone was on alert as the cretes approached Balen. None of them had brought weapons—this was a party, after all—but Jace didn’t have a good feeling about that decision now. The head crete, a man about Talas’s age, stopped just a few feet short of the king. Captain Darq stood a little ahead of Balen, his stern gaze set on the young man and no doubt would have intercepted had he come any closer. The crete, however, didn’t give him more than a passing glance before focusing on Balen.
“We hear you’ve come to drag our people into your war,” he ground out the accusation.
Balen gave the entire group a sweeping glance, but said calmly, “I’ve come to ask your people for aid. We are allies.”
The animosity brewing in the crete’s eyes told Jace the man wouldn’t have any of it. He’d come here to fight—whether with words or more, Jace couldn’t say just yet. He carefully watched the crete’s every move. If this turned violent, there would be little warning.
The man scowled. “I don’t remember hearing of Samara putting up a protest when the cretes had to leave Arcacia.”
Darq snorted, but Talas was the one to step forward and approach the crete, a cajoling smile on his face.
“Come on, Cray, let’s not ruin a good party.” He put his hand on the crete’s shoulder as if to guide him away from the group, but Cray shoved his arm away.
“You stay out of this. You’ve been with them so long you’re hardly even a crete anymore. You never were much of one.”
Talas stiffened, and his smile vanished. Considering the pride cretes had in their race, this was a serious insult. To Jace’s left, Kaden shifted as if preparing to join his friend in a fight if need be.
His expression and voice now unusually cold, Talas replied, “Oh, so you have to be ignorant and narrow-minded to be a crete?”
Cray stepped closer, and they faced each other down. The other crete lifted his arm to hit Talas, but Novan jumped in, forcing them apart.
“Now is not the time or place for this.” He glared at Cray. “No one forced us out of Arcacia. We left by our own choice. It’s the innocent people of Samara and Arcacia who are oppressed, and don’t think for a moment that Daican won’t bring that oppression to us. If you really want more power for the cretes, then you should be all for standing with our allies and putting a stop to Daican’s conquest.”
Cray scoffed. “Why? Let the humans fight themselves. What’s that to us? Once they’re weak, maybe then we’ll regain our power.”
A murmur rippled through the other cretes, and not only those in Cray’s group. Several outside of it also nodded their heads. By now, Captain Darq and the rest of their crete friends stood in a line in front of everyone from Landale as if to create a barrier Cray and the others would have to cross to get to them. A barrier against their own people. Jace glanced over his shoulder just to be sure no one came at them from behind.
Darq spoke icily. “Don�
��t you understand what’s happening? Samara was conquered. She can’t fight back without our help, and while we bicker over whether or not to grant it, Daican only grows stronger, not weaker.”
Cray didn’t buy any of it. “And maybe, like Talas, you’ve just spent so much time away from your own people that you’ve let their plight blind you and cause you to forget what it is to be a crete.”
“I don’t remember when it became the crete thing to do to throw aside honor and turn our backs on friends in need of aid.”
“I see your friends, but when was the last time Arcacia or Samara were actually friends of the cretes?”
Darq’s fists clenched, but Lord Vallan stepped forward. “Enough.” He sent Cray a glare. “This is not a debate. We gathered tonight to honor King Balen, not to argue.”
Despite the crete lord stepping in to Balen’s defense, Cray’s scowl deepened. “So, because of a bunch of humans, we are no longer able to speak our minds?” He turned to the crowd. “Sounds suspiciously like what drove us out of Arcacia in the first place, does it not?”
The grumbling grew louder.
Lord Vallan shook his head. “You know that’s not what this is.”
“No?” Cray again addressed the crowd. “Haven’t you noticed how things have been changing ever since Captain Darq saw fit to involve us in the struggle in Samara? And how many crete lives were lost because of it? Now they’re asking for more. How many will it take before they’re satisfied? Was it not better when we didn’t have this contact with the humans?”
Agitated murmurs spread through the gathering, both in agreement and disagreement with Cray’s words. Jace shook his head. So much for a celebration. The people were as split as their leaders.
Kyrin tugged his hand, and he looked down to see her gaze darting between Cray and the surrounding crowd of cretes. He didn’t like the tense look on her face when she turned to him and spoke in a low, urgent voice, “We need to leave. It’s not safe here.”
Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4) Page 14
