Chapter 4

Aurora

Around and around and around we dance, weaving the colorful ribbons about the Maypole. I move my feet to the beat of the drum, soaking in the warmth from the cobblestones as the sun shines down over me, illuminating the square and everyone in it. Lydia’s laughter rings through the balmy air as we dance, and it lifts my spirits further. My heart is so light and buoyant, it feels like it wants to float right out of my chest and into the pale blue sky.

I catch Alden’s eye from the opposite side of the Maypole. His hair shines under the sun, and beneath his dark beard, he’s smiling. Every time I pass him by, weaving my ribbon under his, I catch a whiff of his woodsy scent, and it makes me want to curl up beside him in bed while a summer rain patters on the roof of the cottage.

As the ribbons wind around the Maypole, the dance very nearly complete, I glance into the crowd and catch a flash of bright red.

Rowan.

He’s standing behind the other onlookers, nearly a head taller than everyone else, and I’m pretty sure he’s looking right at me. My skin prickles, and heat warms my cheeks. Has he been watching me this whole time? For some reason, the thought makes me giddy.

And that confuses me.

Because I adore Alden. I miss him for even a moment when he’s gone, feel cold in bed at night when he’s at his cabin instead of my cottage. How can I feel even a sprinkle of interest toward another man when my heart is close to bursting for Alden?

My thoughts swirl around, twisting almost as fast as the ribbons about the Maypole. The ribbons are getting so short now that all the dancers are close to the pole, our shoulders brushing and our laughter mingling, drifting high into the summer sky.

With almost no slack left in my ribbon, I lift what remains of it over a young girl with her black hair in pigtails, then come to stand beside Alden, exactly where I started. We tie off our ribbons, securing them firmly to the colorful pole, then all step back amidst clapping from the crowd.

Alden’s arm drapes around my shoulders, as sure and sturdy as a century-old oak, and his other arm wraps around Lydia. We both laugh as he pulls us in for a hug.

“Who are you?” Lydia asks, pulling away from him with a smile and reaching up to adjust her white flower crown. “And what have you done with my brother?”

She’s right: Alden is not the same man he was when I met him. Back at the beginning of spring, he barely smiled and never laughed, but now it’s easy to draw a chuckle out of him, and his dark eyes are almost always shining.

My heart swells, and I lift onto my tiptoes to press a kiss against his scruffy cheek.

“I like this one,” I say, gaze shifting to Lydia. “Let’s keep him.”

After the dance, Lydia and James drift away, hand in hand, to prepare for their handfasting ceremony, and Alden gets caught up with his group of men drinking mead. I’m left alone, and I use the time to explore the assembled stalls, curious to see what goods the villagers made for Beltane. One man is offering strawberry wine with ripe red strawberries floating on top, and I eagerly exchange a few eldertokens for a mug of the sweet-smelling concoction.

“Thank you,” I tell the man, and he gives me a smile and tips his cap as I turn away.

And almost bump right into a broad chest.

With a little squeak, I quickly right myself, careful not to spill any of the wine on my new dress. That would be a travesty after all the time I spent sewing it. When I look up, my heart catches.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Rowan says.

His long hair is loose and hanging around his shoulders, and he’s got his hands in his trouser pockets. Over the last couple months, I’ve seen him many times around the village, but he’s always in his gleaming knight armor, verdant eyes barely visible through the visor of his helmet. Now, though, he’s wearing a lightweight summer tunic and cotton trousers, and there’s nothing to break his intense gaze.

“H-hello,” I say.

I’m not sure what it is about this man that makes me so... tiny . Nerves flutter inside me every time he comes around, and it’s as if I forget what words are and how to string them into coherent sentences. Alden was so quiet when I met him that it was an uphill battle getting him to speak, but that’s certainly not the case with Rowan.

“Strawberry wine?” he asks, tilting his head at the mug in my hand. When I nod, he flashes me one of his brilliant white smiles. “And?”

I blink. “And . . . what?”

His laughter is easy, light. “And how is it?”

“Oh! Um...” I glance down into the mug, with its deep red wine and floating strawberries, and then lift it to my lips. The wine is sweet and strong, and as soon as I take a sip and it hits my belly, I start to giggle. I could probably get drunk on this in a second. “It’s delicious.” A wave of courage comes over me, and I hold the mug out. “Want to try?”

Rowan doesn’t hesitate. He accepts the mug, his slender fingers brushing mine as he takes it from my hand. My skin tingles from the contact, and I can’t stop myself from admiring the sharp angles of his clean-shaven jaw as he lifts the mug to his mouth and takes a deep swallow of the wine. Where Alden has rich brown skin, Rowan’s is pale, and it looks soft and smooth in the summer light. It makes me want to reach out to brush his cheek, to feel his skin against mine.

Blinking, he hands it back to me with a laugh. “It’s stronger than expected.”

Another wave of sweetness flows over my tongue when I put the mug to my lips, and like a silly schoolgirl, I get excited by the thought of my mouth touching the mug where Rowan’s lips were just a moment ago. The wine races down my throat and into my stomach, already making me feel lighter.

“Why didn’t you join the dance?” I ask, starting to find my voice with each sip of the sweet strawberry wine.

He tips his head, and a strand of silky red hair slips over his shoulder. “I’m not a very good dancer, I’m afraid.”

I arch a brow at him. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” His green eyes shine.

My gaze quickly sweeps up and down his frame. He’s got a broad chest, but his body is slim, his muscles lean rather than bulky. The sleeves of his tunic are rolled back, exposing his forearms and the sinewy muscle running just beneath his skin. Looking at him, I imagine he’s very comfortable moving his body, whether that’s through swordsmanship practice, a dance, or something... else.

I gulp another mouthful of wine down. Is it just me, or is it getting stronger? “Just a hunch.”

One of his russet eyebrows arches. It seems I’ve not convinced him.

A gentle weight settles onto my shoulders, a shadow falling over me, and I look up to find Alden standing there. Immediately, I worry that he’s going to be upset at me for speaking with Rowan, to get jealous, but it’s quite the opposite. He extends a hand to Rowan, saying, “You’re the knight who took Garland’s place, yeah?”

Rowan glances from Alden to me and then back. I can’t quite read the expression on his face. Confusion? Disappointment? Determination? A moment later, he places his hand in Alden’s. “That’s me. Rowan Highcliff.”

“Alden Stonewood.”

They exchange a firm handshake, and I can’t stop myself from admiring their strong forearms, maybe even wondering what it would be like to stand between them, one man on each side—

“The ceremony is about to start,” Alden says, tearing me from my very questionable daydream. There must be some sort of potion in this wine, because my head is swimming with thoughts that make me a bit warm between my legs.

“Ceremony?” I ask.

His lips turn up into a smile, and he glances into my mug, which is almost empty. Only a few strawberries still linger at the bottom.

Whoops.

“The handfasting ceremony. Are you ready?”

“Oh! Yes!”

How could I forget the handfast? I’ve been looking forward to it since James proposed to Lydia back in April, and much of our time over the last month has been dedicated to preparations. I feel foolish for allowing the wine to run away with my head.

“It was nice to meet you,” Alden says as he starts to guide me away.

Rowan slides his hands back into his trouser pockets and gives Alden a nod. “Likewise.” Then his gaze shifts to me. “Aurora.”

Hearing my name on his lips makes me giggle, but I quickly rein it in. “Bye, Rowan.”

Then Alden is leading me away, slipping the mug of wine from my hands.

“This must be good stuff,” he says, voice playful and light. “You should’ve shared.” He finishes the wine and strawberries off in one swallow, arm still around my shoulders. “Now, let’s go watch my sister get hitched.”