What to wear was a problem. A drab brown dress that hung on her like a sack and a few rough looking skirts were all she had that were remotely womanly. Since all she wore were breeches and tunics, her ma hadn’t made her any dresses for a long time. Dread worked its way through her as she held up each sad skirt and considered them. The creaking hinges of her bedroom door drew her attention away from a rusty-colored skirt.
In her doorway stood her ma, head bowed, arms held behind her back. There had been a time when Neala had loved how peaceful her ma always was. It had seemed safe. Now it kind of annoyed her, but she did her best to hide it with a tight smile.
“I made something for ye,” her ma said as she brought something around from behind her back.
It looked like a bundle of dark blue fabric. Neala took it from her, unfolded it, and held it up. The fabric made her think of the night sky, dark and silky. It was a long dress with a fitted waist and bodice that was decorated with delicate beadwork. Light blue ribbons that almost matched the color of Neala’s eyes, laced up the sleeves and back of the dress. Her breath caught in her throat.
“For me?” she asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
Her ma nodded. Tears shone in her eyes. “If ye’re to find a husband ye should have somethin’ beautiful to wear,” she said.
Looking at it, Neala had to agree it was beautiful. She only hoped her plain looks wouldn’t ruin it. There was such a thing as something too beautiful. Still, she could hardly wait for Bren to see her in it.
~
Vendors selling wares and food called out to Neala as she passed their carts and stands. Material, food, and jewelry held no pull over her. Her heart felt like it was taking up space in her throat as her eyes scanned the crowd of mingling people, looking for Bren. Finding him would be no easy task. There had to be hundreds of people packed into the valley. They all laughed and talked; the division of the clans forgotten for the day of celebration.
Though her long blue dress didn’t quite touch the ground, Neala held it up as she walked. It was too beautiful to chance dragging through the mud. The sky was a clear, pale blue but it had rained the night before which left parts of the valley muddy. This was only one of many reasons she didn’t wear dresses very often.
Recognizing a few people from Bren’s clan, Neala headed in their direction. Two woodcarvers sat on benches beside a large tree that was propped up off the ground. They were whittling away at it with sharp instruments, revealing a vaguely human form. It would be one of many tributes burned at the bonfire tonight to honor the harvest. Fragrant wood chips covered the ground, not only below the carvers, but all throughout this section of the festival. Letting out a sigh, Neala dropped her skirt and stretched her cramped fingers.
“Neala, is that you?” Bren’s voice came from somewhere off to her left. The tone of his voice was unsure and it made her self-conscious.
Did he think the dress was too pretty for her? It felt like it was. She had never worn anything so lovely. Was it too low cut? She could probably set her chin on her chest if she tried. Heat flushed to her cheeks. She turned to face him and promptly forgot all about how she looked. He stood beside a fruit stand, mouth dropped open, eyes riveted upon her. Mingled with the look of shock on his face was appreciation that barely concealed desire.
He wore a pair of leather breeches that were the same light brown color of his hair. They fit tight in all the right places and went well with a crème colored sleeveless tunic that showed off his muscular arms. The dagger on his hip added an edge of danger to the whole look that was very enticing.
He muttered something in the old tongue as he approached then his eyes widened and he glanced around with a look of fear. Thankfully, no one seemed to have heard. “I mean, ye look. . .” but his voice trailed off as his eyes locked on her. His gaze traveled the length of her body and came back to rest on her face after catching for a short moment upon her chest. It was too low cut, she was sure of it, but she didn’t mind him looking, too much.
In an attempt to ease the tension, Neala laughed. “I hope that doesn’t end with somethin’ like, horrible.”
Bren squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Definitely not. Ye look amazing,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper on the last word.
A blush burned her cheeks but she refused to look down. She was pretty sure she had heard him say she looked ‘delicious’ in the old language. But she wasn’t about to correct him. Instead she smiled and let her appreciation for how he looked fill her eyes.
“So do ye,” she said.
She wished she could take the words back the moment she had said them. It wasn’t that she didn’t think that, she did. But saying it aloud made her feel exposed. The shy smile that graced his lips as he looked away was worth the risk. He closed the distance between them and took her hand. His palm was a bit sweaty but she didn’t care; hers was too.
“I’m glad yer parents let ye come,” he said.
Neala shot a look to her left and shook her head. “They wouldn’t let me miss it. Me ma thinks tis the perfect place for me to find a husband.”
The realization of how that must sound to him made her wish she could disappear. She really needed to start thinking before she spoke. The laughter and teasing she expected from him never came. He looped his arm through hers and started to walk.
“Lookin’ like ye do, that’s a good possibility. I hope ye don’t mind if I keep ye all to meself today,” he said in a low voice that made her tingle all over.
“I don’t mind at all.”
They wound their way through the festival, marveling at craftsman working leather or wood, admiring the handiwork of metalworkers, and sampling tasty food. Bren’s way with people put Neala at ease and made encounters with others pleasant. He always knew what to say and how to exit gracefully. On his arm, mingling with others, was the happiest she could ever remember being. She felt welcomed, like she belonged. It was a completely foreign feeling that was kind of scary.
Still, it couldn’t completely suppress her irritation with Bren over not teaching her more about fighting. Every time she brought it up though he changed the subject or found someone to introduce her to.
Well into the afternoon, Bren took her to the edge of the festivities near the forest. The cool shade of the tall trees felt wonderful after the walk in the warm sun through the thick crowd. The air was refreshing and sweet with the hint of pine and earth. Better than that, she could smell the mix of spices and steel that was Bren’s scent. She couldn’t imagine anyone or anything ever smelling better.
People milled about down the hill from them but it was far enough away that they were pretty much alone. A thrill worked its way through her. It wasn’t fear—she trusted Bren for the most part—it was excitement. Maybe he would finally listen to her.
A look of anticipation filled his eyes as he leaned against the tree next to her, so close their shoulders brushed. Neala’s heart sped up. Her eyes were drawn to his lips. They were perfect, soft and full enough to lose herself in. Her hands started to shake. A warm flush spread through her as he leaned closer and started to stroke her arm.
“Me friends are hangin’ out in the forest until the festivities start. They said to bring ye along if you wanted to come,” he said.
His words were like taking a dip in an icy river, turning her excitement to fear. Meeting his ma and the people in his village was one thing, but meeting his friends was monumentally more frightening. Not to mention, he wouldn’t likely talk to her about training with them around.
People their age wouldn’t be as easy to impress as adults. What if they didn’t like her? But she didn’t want to disappoint him by saying no. If he left her now she certainly wouldn’t get to talk to him about training.
“All right,” she said.
Bren took her hand and started into the forest. “Don’t worry, they’re like us. Ye met them the other day,” he said.
The smile that crept onto his face eased some of her anxiety. Contagious excitement filled his eyes. The look transformed him from a handsome young man into someone adorable.
“Come on,” he said.
They skirted around the worst of the undergrowth and made their way farther into the trees. Neala did her best to hold her dress up and keep it from snagging on vines and bushes. Bren moved branches out of her way and even lifted her over a fallen log. Having his strong hands upon her waist for even a few moments set her heart to racing. They emerged from the trees into a grassy meadow where a group of young people were gathered.
There were five of them seated in a circle on rocks and tree stumps. They were laughing and passing around a wineskin. It was the group of people she met back in his village that day, plus an additional girl, a pretty blond. One of the young men stood and beckoned them over, Liam she thought his name was.
Bren stepped closer and put an arm around her shoulders. It was a possessive move that Neala didn’t quite like. “Everyone, ye remember Neala.”
They smiled and offered her a greeting, all except for the blond girl. Neala tried to recall their names. The red-headed girl was Irial, she couldn’t forget her, the brunette was Kyla, or something like that. The other boy she thought was named Cian.
“Neala, ye know everyone here except for Ciara,” Bren said, motioning to the blond girl.
With her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and nose thrust up, the girl looked downright hostile. The energy radiating off her like heat from a forest fire, was even worse.
“Ye’re not from our clan,” Ciara said. Her eyes darted toward Bren and pain flashed across her face.
Bren’s body tensed and his energy started to crackle. The blond woman’s power spiked and reached out for Neala. It burned as it came, snapping and popping with ill intent. Before it could reach her, Bren’s power surged and wrapped around Neala like a protective cocoon. Ciara’s power slid off it like rain over a window. Neala had no idea what Ciara’s power would have done to her and she didn’t want to find out. From the furious way the woman was staring at Bren, Neala had a pretty good idea of why she had done it.
“Ciara!” Liam snapped, his voice heavy with threat.
His power whipped out in an orange and yellow cord that shoved Ciara from behind. Ciara stumbled forward a step and spun to give him a piercing glare. Power built up around her, pouring out of her skin and down into her balled fists. Her hand had barely begun to rise from her side when Liam’s power dumped over her, stifling her own until there was no sign of it. A cry slid from her and she stumbled back.
“Be nice to our guest, Ciara,” Irial snapped as she took a step toward Ciara. A breeze stirred her blood red hair.
No, not a breeze
, Neala realized. It was Irial’s power, and it was strong enough to rival Liam’s.
Ciara stepped back. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and regret.
“Why don’t ye go get us some more mead,” Liam said, making it more of a statement than a question.
Head bowed, she backed away. From beneath her blond tresses she shot Neala a look of pure hatred. Letting out an annoyed grunt, she turned and stormed off into the forest. Great, another enemy was all she needed.
“I’m sorry about her. She isn’t one of us yet but she is a friend and she’s Cian’s sister. Please, come, sit,” Irial said as she motioned to a log beside her.
Another glance at Cian revealed a similar bone structure, eyes, and nose. Neala also found him staring at her, well, at her chest. She did her best to ignore him as she and Bren sat down on the log together. It was small enough that they had to sit pressed against one another. His leg was warm and his thigh felt like it was on fire. He left his arm around her. So much contact with him made her light-headed in a very good way. From the haunted look in his eyes she wasn’t so sure he was enjoying it as much as she was.
“Thank ye. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Neala said.
The brunette girl with the freckles shook her head and waved a hand. “No worries. Ciara is the trouble, not ye. No offense Cian,” she said.
A sly half-smile pulled up one corner of Cian’s mouth and he scooted closer to Kyla, putting an arm around her. “I won’t take any if ye make it up to me,” he said.
Kyla rolled her eyes and shrugged his arm off but gave him a sideways glance and a smile. Their antics made hope swell within Neala’s chest. For so long she had watched other groups of people interact this way and longed to be among them. But she wasn’t sure if she should dare hope.
Irial had said something that made Neala wonder. “What did ye mean about Ciara not being one of ye? Isn’t she of the same clan?”
Before answering, Irial glanced at Bren who nodded. “She is part of the clan but not part of our Order.”
There was that word again. Neala had no idea what it meant. “Order?” she asked, knowing she risked sounding daft. It was worse to remain daft than to sound it, she figured.
“Yer parents really did shelter ye,” Kyla said.
Neala’s eyes shot to Bren and found his face filled with reassurance. But she wasn’t reassured. He had told his friends about her!
“It’s all right. Bren told us there might be things ye don’t know. An Order is a group of druids who have bonded and are a sort of family,” Irial explained.
A bit of Neala’s embarrassment faded as fascination took its place. “Bonded?”
Leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, Liam nodded. “Druids are meant to live in Orders that support and protect one another. Our power knows when we belong together and a bond is formed. The bond allows us to feel one another through our power and it allows the Rectors of the Order to draw upon its members power if need be.”
Neala’s mind spun. Such a thing sounded amazing.
Kyla struck up a conversation about the festival and soon Neala was so caught up in it that she forgot about wanting to fit in and feeling like she didn’t know enough. These people were easy to talk to. Despite his clear focus on all things female, Cian was funny and kind. Kyla laughed easily and made light of everything as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Neala soon noticed something about the two of them. Their energy was different than the others.