Chapter 3

Alden

THE LAST TIME I PARTICIPATED in the Maypole dance was the year before Belinda left me. After that, I had no interest in dancing around a fertility pole or celebrating the summer season. I was alone, and that was how I intended to stay.

But now I find myself with ribbon in hand, Aurora on one side of me and Lydia on the other, both wearing flower crowns and grinning up at me like they’re conspiring. James stands to Lydia’s left, and he gives me a matching grin, revealing the slight gap between his front teeth. I’m not sure how Lydia found someone so easygoing and lighthearted, but I’m happy for her; he’s good for her. They’re to be married in a handfasting ceremony today, and that means I won’t have to listen to any more wedding conversations between Lydia and Aurora. They’ve been discussing the ceremony nonstop, to the point where I started making myself scarce around the cottage just to avoid being asked my opinion on cord colors and vow wording.

That’s not to say I’m not thrilled for the both of them—I am. It’s just that my decision-making capabilities have a limit, and it was maxed out weeks ago. I’m glad Lydia had Aurora with her throughout the planning process; it seems my little witch has made an impact on more than just me. It’s like she’s a member of our family now, small though it may be.

A troupe of musicians stands to the side of the Maypole, out of the way of the dancers, and one of them begins beating a drum. It resounds with a loud, deep thump that vibrates through my chest. Excitement is tangible in the warm air, and I swear Aurora is almost vibrating with joy, her green eyes wide and glittering. She’s like a kid sometimes, so easily excitable. It makes me chuckle, though I don’t let her see.

Another musician joins in with a flute, and then another with a lyre, and with a cheer, the dancers start to move.

I just hope I remember how to do this.

Holding my ribbon high, I move over Aurora as she ducks under me. We move in opposite directions, approaching the Maypole before retreating again, weaving in and out at a lively pace as the musicians play a bouncy jig. The faces that pass by me are all smiling, a blur of skin colors and hair colors, dancers young and old. I dip under Lydia’s ribbon as she twirls and laughs, and then I’m back to my green-haired witch.

Aurora is beaming, her sun-kissed freckled cheeks flushed red from the dance, the yellow flower crown Liora placed atop her head slightly skewed. I just now realize that she must’ve removed her boots at some point, because she’s dancing in bare feet. I’ve never known someone so opposed to footwear as she is.

And that funny little quirk makes me love her that much more.

Love?

My realization trips me up, and James, who’s dancing behind me, bumps into me. I stumble back into motion, but the dancers are spinning a bit too fast now, making my head swim.

Did I just admit to myself that I love Aurora?

After Belinda left, I told myself I would never love again, would never allow someone to hurt me in the way she had. But now here I am, dressed in my nicest trousers and cleanest shirt, beard freshly combed, spinning around in the town square, my eyes already seeking Aurora out as she twirls around the opposite side of the Maypole. This past winter, if someone told me I’d be here today, drinking mead and dancing, I would’ve told them to take a night off from the tavern. But I can’t help myself; it’s impossible not to love her.

And maybe it’s time I tell her.