The Lofty woman responds to Fox’s traditional words of welcome with their customary response. “We appreciate the hospitality of our Groundling neighbors. We too pray for peace and protection, and for a year of prosperity for all forest-dwellers.”
A respectful silence follows, promptly broken by Bear’s less-than-respectful whisper that the Lofties will need a prayer of protection tomorrow. Calli giggles.
“What are the Lofties doing?” I ask as conversations around the fire slowly start up again.
Bear answers. “Standing around, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. As usual.”
“It’s kind of sad. They come to the Summer Solstice celebration every year, but they never seem to have any fun,” Calli says.
“They should invite us up to their little nests if they aren’t comfortable down here,” Bear says. “Wouldn’t kill ’em.”
“Why do we bother to celebrate together, when we all keep to ourselves?” I ask. “We can do that anytime.”
“Tradition,” Calli and Bear intone.
“Maybe it’s time for a new tradition.” I stand up, shaking out my skirt. “Where are they, exactly?”
“Over by my family’s shelter,” Calli says. “What are you doing, Fenn?”
Finding out who will be in those trees when the Scourge comes. I weave around the clusters of people, listening for voices I don’t recognize. But I smell the Lofties before I hear them—the intense, slightly bitter resin of their homes, the greenheart trees.
“Welcome.” My voice sounds too loud in my ears. “I’m Fennel. I’ll be taking Aloe’s place collecting water for our communities when the Scourge returns.”
The Groundlings behind me fall silent again, their stares heavy on my shoulders. A Lofty speaks, his voice deep and gravelly.
“Fennel, it’s Shrike. Has Aloe joined the Council then?” Shrike is Aloe’s Keeper. She doesn’t talk about him much, but I’ve always gotten the sense she thinks well of him.
“She was accepted this evening. She should be here soon.” I worry the pocket of my dress with my fingers. “Shrike, could I ... I’d like to meet my Keeper.”
There’s silence, then someone moves toward me, crunching leaves under their feet.
“This is Peregrine,” Shrike says.
I hold out my hand. It stays extended in front of me for what seems a very long time. I think of myself frozen that way, a welcoming statue found years in the future by someone who happens across the clearing. Embarrassed, but determined not to show it, I thrust my hand out even further.
A hand finally brushes mine. I can tell it belongs to a man. There are calluses on the ends of his long fingers. This Lofty smells different from the others, more like ... honeysuckle. I liked playing around the honeysuckle in the garden as a child, avoiding the preoccupied bees and soaking in the sweet, sunny scent. It’s the fragrance of summer.
“Hello, Fennel.”
I’m surprised. I pictured my Keeper middle-aged, like Shrike, but this Lofty doesn’t sound much older than me. And while his hand is rough, his voice isn’t. It’s quiet, almost melodious. More like the calls of the warblers that wake us each morning than the predatory screech of the falcon he’s named for. All the Lofty men are named for birds, while the women have ridiculous names like Sunbeam, Dewdrop, and Mist.
“Though I don’t wish the Scourge to return,” Aloe says from behind me, “they will. It’s good that you’ve met.”
“Congratulations on your acceptance into the Three,” Shrike says. “You’ll serve your community well.”
“Thank you,” she says.
Aloe’s voice is different, gentler, the voice she reserves for Eland. She has a bond with this Lofty. I wonder if I’ll have a similar bond with my rough-handed, soft-voiced Keeper.
“So,” I say to Peregrine, “were you chosen because you’re a good hunter? Aloe says Shrike is deadly, as deadly as she’s ever known a man to be.”
“I can use a bow and arrow.”
“Ha, don’t let him fool you. Peree’s one of our best archers. We’re counting on him tomorrow.” Shrike sounds proud, like he’s talking about his own son. Maybe he is. We don’t know much about the Lofties.
Fox’s voice booms across the clearing. “Come, eat, and let the dancing begin! We have some anxious boys here, waiting to find out if the girls they’ve had their eye on for the past year will dance with them.” The crowd laughs, even a few of the Lofties. People all around the fire begin to talk normally again, and the music starts up. I’m relieved that the collective attention seems to have turned away from me.
I smile politely at my Keeper. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Peregrine, like Aloe said.”
“Call me Peree. Everyone does.”
I nod. “My friends call me Fenn.”
The music starts up. I should go. Bear, or someone else, may be waiting to dance with me. Whether I want to or not. I turn away ... and a mad idea grabs me.
Ask the Lofty to dance.
I hesitate. Is Aloe still nearby? Can she hear us? She’s one of the Three now, tasked with managing our complicated relationship with the Lofties. There’s no rule against dancing with them, but that’s only because no one has ever tried. Aloe—not to mention the rest of my people—might be furious with me. I decide I don’t care. At least I’ll have made my own choice.
“Peree? Would you like to dance?” He doesn’t say anything. I bite my bottom lip. “You know, dance? I’m not bad, really. I won’t even step on your feet much.”
“Lofties and Groundlings don’t dance together.”
“Why not?”
He’s quiet again. “No idea. Tradition, I guess.” I half expect him to say it in Bream’s voice.
I hold my hand out, palm up this time, challenging him.
I never get an answer. Shrill birdcalls rip through the air—Lofty warning calls. The music dies, and for a moment the clearing is quiet. Then the screaming starts.
The Scourge is here.
Read The Scourge (Brilliant Darkness 1) now!
Acknowledgments
Every book I write takes some amount of research and reading to try to get things about the characters, settings, or topic right. This
