Chapter 8

T he day dragged on. She went through the motions of helping Yirrie bake throughout the day, distracted as she thought of what Master told her about the dark wizard.

Nothing made sense to her. She had a difficult time making the connection between the dark wizard and the Shadow that tried to kill her the night before. In fact, there was nothing connecting the two.

"Are you all right, Snow? You seem preoccupied," Yirrie said.

Snow realized she had been kneading a ball of dough absently. At Yirrie's question, she placed the dough in the bowl and covered it to rise.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I am a bit."

"Worried about anything?" she asked.

Snow managed a smile. "Nothing. I'm preoccupied as you said."

"I'll finish up here. Why don't you get ready for tonight?" she suggested.

It was her polite way of telling Snow to get out of the kitchen.

In truth, she was relieved to be released from duty and scurried to her room, closing the door behind her. Tonight's festival event would be less formal than last night's. She wouldn't have to wear a fancy gown. Though there would be dancing, she wouldn't have to worry about a boy asking her.

Thinking of that, though, made her think of Ardan. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of him and she wondered if she would see him tonight.

It was ridiculous to even entertain. She shoved away those thoughts and went to her wardrobe where she pulled out one of her older gowns in green silk. She dressed, then brushed out the length of her black hair. She tied it at the nape of her neck with a matching green ribbon. As she peered at herself in the mirror, she noticed the pale purple bruises along her throat. Bruises that looked like fingerprints.

She leaned closer to get a better look. The Shadow that had attacked her must have left the marks. Where else would she have gotten them?

Not wanting anyone else to see the marks, she decided to change her dress into something with a high neck. She exchanged the gown for a deep royal blue one that would conceal the marks.

As she left with Yirrie and Elator for the second night of the festival, apprehension swept through her.

The long tables were set as before. All the candles lit. The lights dangled from the trees, illuminating the area of the village where the revelry always took place. Normally, Snow enjoyed this time of year. But this year was different. This year dark magic tried to kill her.

In past years, the first night of the celebration went into the wee morning hours. The second night was when the couples who formed the previous night would dance after the feast. It would go on well into the night. She dreaded that because, undoubtedly, she would never be picked.

After the feast, the music and merriment began. Much to her astonishment, Ardan appeared at their table with a shy look on his face that told her he wasn't sure what he was doing. Surprise flickered through her. Tonight, he wore a dark blue brocade jacket trimmed in silver with silver buttons, black pants and black boots. She had to admit he looked quite handsome.

"Hello, Snow." His hand rested on the hilt of his dagger belted at his waist. Tonight, he wore it in plain sight.

"Hello, Ardan." She kept her voice strong and sure, but deep down her nerves jangled through her. What was he doing at their table?

Yirrie and Elator were both riveted, watching their awkward exchange. Finally, Ardan held out a shaking hand to her and cleared his throat.

"Would you do the honor of granting me this dance?"

Snow's mouth went dry as she stared, dumbfounded, at him. "You want to dance with me?"

He glanced at Elator who gave him an encouraging nod. Something struck Snow then and she wondered if he had something to do with this sudden invitation from the young elf.

"Yes," he said, keeping his hand extended to her.

"Are you sure?" Snow's brows drew together.

Yirrie elbowed her. "Go on, Snow."

"I'm sure," Ardan said, sounding confident.

Even though she was uncertain about his intentions, she rose from her chair and walked around the end of the table with slow, methodical steps to give him time to change his mind. He didn't. He turned toward her with his hand still outstretched, his fingers slightly shaking. Trepidation slipping through her, she placed her hand in his. He whisked her off to the dancefloor where one warm hand landed on her waist and the other gripped her hand.

Snow looked everywhere but into his eyes, a sudden uneasy shyness plaguing her. The music was soft, encouraging the newly formed couples to dance closer and closer to each other.

"You look lovely tonight," he said, his voice wavering a bit with his nerves.

Her cheeks heated as she watched their feet. "Thank you."

His hand tightened on her waist. Finally, she met his gaze and realized he was smiling at her. She smiled back. As they twirled around the makeshift dance floor, she caught Valda's acid gaze. Clearly, his sister was not happy Snow was dancing with him.

"Your sister doesn't like me," she remarked.

"My sister doesn't like anyone," he replied with a chuckle.

She noticed, then, he was leading her away from the other couples to the edge of the forest.

"I don't much like these festivals," he said, then. "Would you like to take a walk with me in the forest?"

She chewed her lower lip as she thought about leaving the elves' protective magic. "I shouldn't…"

"I'll keep you safe." He flashed an irresistible grin. "We don't have to go far. We can stay within the circle, if you like."

It was as if he sensed her apprehension and why.

She gave him a nod. "All right."

They stopped dancing. He took her by the hand and led her toward the edge of the forest. The music faded to nothing more than a din as they stepped out of the puddle of light and into the trees shrouding them in darkness. He led her to a fallen log and perched on the edge of it. She did the same. They sat there in amicable silence for a long moment, watching the light from the festival flicker in the distance and listening to the faint lilting music.

"I didn't have a chance to thank you last night," she said. "For saving me."

"You don't have to thank me," he said.

"Yes, I do. If it hadn't been for you and your blade, I might be dead."

She thought of the bruises along her neck and how the Shadow tried to choke the life out of her. A cold tingling sensation skipped down her spine as she remembered.

Silence descended between them as they both considered this.

"I think I know why I was able to do it," he said.

She cut him a cursory glance full of question.

"To save you, I mean." He reached for the dagger in the sheath on his belt. He pulled out the blade and showed it to her. "It's an enchanted blade."

"Enchanted?" She peered at it, curious and suspicious all at the same time. "Where did you get it?"

"My father brought it back for me from Feywood," he said. "He had it made there." He turned the hilt toward her, extending it to her.

"Your father was in Feywood? I thought elves never left the village."

He grinned. "Sometimes, we do. Go on. Take it."

Tentatively, she wrapped her hand around the hilt. The dagger was lightweight despite the handle being made of oak. The delicate details along the handle were elven scrollwork that only an elf would know. She turned the blade so the light caught it and saw the wavy design down the steel. The blade shimmered with an ethereal glow in the half light.

"What makes it enchanted?" she asked.

"My father said he heard of a master blacksmith who made beautiful weapons. Swords of all sizes and daggers. He makes blades for King Alfred. Blades and armor and other things."

Snow handed him back the blade. He held it up, letting the light catch along the edge. It glinted and shimmered with an iridescence, something she had never seen in a dagger, or any blade, before.

"Apparently, he has a way to forge enchanted blades. My father didn't know how. See how it shimmers?" He tilted the blade in the light again.

"Yes. It's beautiful."

"I think the enchanted blade somehow helped me break free. It was why I was able to sever the Shadow from you." As he said this, he sheathed the dagger.

An enchanted blade. Could it be possible? Had anyone ever heard of an enchanted blade before? There was only one person she thought of who could answer that question. She was certain the Master of Archives would know.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you that last night." He reached for her hand, wrapping his warm fingers around hers.

Butterflies erupted deep in her gut. Though she liked Ardan, she saw him as a friend and nothing more. The tenderness in his eyes told her he thought of her as something more.

"Snow…" His voice was soft and a little shaky. "There's something else I wanted to tell you last night."

Her stomach clenched. The custom of the first night of festival was for the young men to find a young lady and proclaim his intentions. It was the last thing she wanted to hear from Ardan. She shifted, a sudden feeling of discomfort coming over her. To save herself from turning him down and seeing his disappointment or hurting his feelings, she took her hand away from his and hopped to her feet.

"I think Yirrie is calling me." She kept her gaze pinned on the clearing ahead. "I should go see what she needs."

"I didn't hear anything." He got to his feet. "Snow—"

"Yes, I definitely heard her calling me." She spun toward him, plastering a wide smile on her face. "Thank you for showing me the enchanted blade and telling me about it."

"But—"

"I have to go."

She was off before he uttered another word, picking up her skirts and hurrying back through the trees to the table where Yirrie and Elator sat talking and laughing with others. Her heart pounded a wild beat as she approached the table, her gaze cutting over the merrymaking. Elator caught her eye and lifted his tankard in greeting, then went back to his conversation with the elf at his left. Yirrie hadn't noticed her at all.

Snow veered to the right and headed back into the village where she had one thing on her mind—a visit to the Master of Archives.