Errant, p.35
Errant, page 35
Aspen, of course, fixed her gaze firmly on the people’s faces.
The person on the right made the circular gesture representing the orbit of the moon that all Moon witches used as a greeting. Charm had suspected, based on the two people’s white hair and grey clothing, that they were both Moon witches, but even in all her travels, she’d only met a few. She inclined her head in polite acceptance.
“I am called she, Waxing Crescent,” said the person on the right. Charm had never been able to discern any pattern to the way Moon witches named themselves. Even in stories, they might be called Slant of Light Through a Window or Jane.
Waxing Crescent was as tall as Aspen, but softer in figure. Her copper brown skin glowed against the loose, straight tresses of her hair, one half of which was bright white and the other black. “And this is my acolyte, who is called he, Song. We offer you our congratulations.”
Song was of medium height and his skin was almost as white as his hair and beard. He smiled encouragingly at Charm and Aspen.
Aspen stepped back abruptly, pulling Charm behind her. Waxing Crescent and Song were holding out flower crowns. Charm could only be glad Aspen didn’t draw her sword.
“Is this our prize for making it through?” Charm asked. She bent down to allow Song to lay the crown on her.
“Prize?” Song shook his head. He didn’t have a flower crown of his own, but the gesture set in motion the dozens of pink and purple flowers woven into his braids. Charm’s question obviously puzzled both witches. “The prize is the journey and the strength of your union.” He gestured to Charm and Aspen’s joined hands.
“Union?” Charm repeated. Only half her attention was on Song, because the other half was taken up by Aspen’s attempts to decline Waxing Crescent’s flower crown. She huffed as Aspen successfully dodged. “Aspen, let the nice people give you a crown.”
“Nice?” Aspen protested, and there was something dark in the curl of the word. The witches froze. Even Charm was caught off guard. “They could have killed you with their obstacle course. Nice is hardly the first word that comes to my mind.”
Aspen narrowed her eyes, ready to fight. Charm tugged on her hand to remind Aspen that they’d both made it through the trials unscathed. There was nothing to avenge. They would wear the crowns, enjoy a bit of well-deserved hospitality, and then be on their way.
Song stiffened at Aspen’s accusation. “The trials are not an obstacle course.”
Waxing Crescent rested a hand on his shoulder and then addressed Aspen. “Death isn’t possible in the trials. Were you truly so frightened?”
“If I had lost my grip on Charm and she’d plummeted into the raging river at the bottom of the canyon, she would have survived?”
Fury threaded Aspen’s words. Charm wasn’t as quick to anger, but Holy Esmuste, that would have been nice to know during the trial.
“Did you not know this? Most who come to earn the blessing have studied for years,” Waxing Crescent said. “Had one or both of you fallen, you would not have passed the trials, but you would have lived. Will you accept your crown now and the Moon’s blessing with it?”
With this little bit of context, other pairs and small groups emerged seemingly from nowhere. Each time, they were approached by one or more Moon witches bearing flower crowns. This was some kind of ritual. Some more obvious signage explaining what Charm and Aspen were getting themselves into would have been fucking helpful, but in the end, nobody got hurt.
“Put on your crown so we can go celebrate,” Charm said. “You know I love a good party.”
Grudgingly, Aspen held still long enough so Waxing Crescent could set the ring of flowers on her head. Charm stared for longer than was polite, but the juxtaposition was arresting. The hilt of Aspen’s sword rose from its sheath on her back and then, crowning her head was an intricate, beautiful braid of flowers. Neither looked out of place.
Aspen was the softness of the flowers and the strength of the sword.
“There,” Waxing Crescent said, a proclamation in her tone. “You are married in the eyes of the people and blessed by the Moon.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Aspen asked.
“Married?” Charm repeated and she let go of Aspen’s hand as if it was burning her. It was a mistake, but one she couldn’t take back. By the time she reached for Aspen’s hand again, Aspen had already pulled away.
Aspen stood with her feet about shoulder-width apart. Her hands rested on her belt, where she could easily reach one of the knives she kept at her waist. Her elbows jutted out, a warning to keep anyone from getting too close to her.
Charm had been relieved to break the spell that kept them bound together, and now she was mourning the distance between them.
“You participated in the trials.” Waxing Crescent began to look uneasy, or unsure what was happening. Join the club, Charm thought. “You passed them and emerged together from the arch, stronger than you were when you first entered. This is our celebration.”
“Of course,” Charm said, recovering. She knew how to fake it until she could figure this out. She smiled as she looped one of her arms around Aspen’s. She gripped tightly, a warning to Aspen not to try and shake her off. “We’re going to go celebrate. What do you recommend we eat first?”
The witches seemed relieved that Charm and Aspen were coming around. Waxing Crescent gestured toward the table. “Be welcome. It would be our honor to know how to address you.”
Charm adopted their way of introducing themselves. “I am called she, Charm. This is she, Aspen.”
Waxing Crescent’s gaze lingered on Aspen’s forehead, where her skin met her hairline. Aspen tried to shrink away from the attention, and Charm pointedly cleared her throat.
Waxing Crescent shook off her fascination, whatever it was, and cloaked herself in regal bearing again. “Charm and Aspen, you are our honored guests. Come and celebrate the blessings of the Moon.”
Blessings of the Moon. Aspen did her best to keep the scowl off her face, because Charm was determined to mingle and have a good time, and that meant Aspen couldn’t scare everyone away. But honestly, who hosted secret marriage festivals and trapped unsuspecting travelers inside of them?
Moon witches, apparently.
Aspen tried to keep an open mind. She was well-traveled. Magic, like weapons, like a person’s fists, didn’t exist in a state of good or evil. It could be used for either purpose. She couldn’t condemn all Moon witches for what had happened to her and Charm.
She half-listened to Charm’s conversations with the others around them. This festival didn’t have any ill intent behind it. In fact, everyone seemed to have come here on purpose to complete the trials and earn the blessings.
Only Charm and Aspen had stumbled into it accidentally. How strange.
Aspen also learned that they’d arrived at their destination—this village was Nauvis. She needed to search for Ambrem, Tescui’s cousin, but she let Charm enjoy the party. Somewhere here, they’d find the witch in charge of the festival and secure a quiet annulment.
It would be best to get the annulment and lose the flower crowns before they met Ambrem. If it looked as though they had participated in the festival, Ambrem would no doubt report it to Tescui, and then Tescui would summon Aspen to her house to scold her. Or to tease her relentlessly for blundering into marriage.
Marriage.
Aspen was married to Charm.
Aspen’s first marriage—wasn’t that bizarre, to think of it as her first instead of her only—had ended so violently that it eclipsed the few pleasant memories she’d made in the beginning, false promises that they were. It hadn’t left her with a desire to get married ever again.
She’d wanted companionship, permanence, belonging. She’d found that with Integrity, Strength, and Ayzeh in the Scale.
That too had ended in death—in murder—even if it wasn’t by Aspen’s hands that time.
“You are very serious,” someone said, interrupting Aspen’s maudlin thoughts.
Aspen looked to her left, but Charm was in an animated conversation with three others. The new speaker was addressing Aspen, then. They were tall and willowy, with the grey clothes and the white hair indicative of a Moon witch.
The neckline of their gown dipped low, then the fabric clung tight to their ribs and flowed to the ground, giving the impression that the person was mostly leg and little else. A strong breeze and they’d blow away.
A crown style just like the floral arches perched upon their head. Braids of flowers hung down and tangled with their curls. Their skin was pale and shone like the moon, undoubtedly a magical effect. A person who exuded power so casually was not to be trifled with.
What did they want with Aspen?
“This is a celebration, is it not?” they asked.
“Should marriages be entered into on a lark? One can note the seriousness of an act while still celebrating it.”
The figure before her seemed amused, rather than offended. “One can, perhaps. But you, Aspen Silverglade? I sense much seriousness and little celebration from you.”
Aspen couldn’t help her shiver at the way the person said her name, the syllables rolling off their tongue, familiar, for all that they were a stranger. “You know my name. May I know yours?”
“I am called they, O,” the Moon witch answered. “I heard you were searching for me.”
Naturally a person who radiated moonlight with such ease would be the one responsible for the trials.
Aspen shifted her weight. She didn’t like boats or water or anything that couldn’t be defeated with a sword. Immense, incomprehensible magic fell into that category. But if she and Charm wanted this marriage annulled, they needed to speak with O.
“Charm,” Aspen said, raising her voice to capture Charm’s attention.
Charm apologized to her companions and then drifted over to Aspen’s side. She took O’s measure in a single look. “We’ve been found.”
“You desire to speak with me,” O said. “And I have a desire to hear your story. Come, I suspect you would prefer privacy for this conversation.”
“Yes, thank you,” Charm said.
Aspen wasn’t nearly so polite. As they followed O through the crowd, she asked, “Will it stay private? You knew to seek us out. You knew my full name, which neither I nor anyone else has uttered since our arrival here. You and your people talk.”
“We do.” O paused in front of a large tent to sweep aside the rich, velvet drapes at the opening. At first glance, they were black but as they moved and caught the light, they shimmered midnight blue. Aspen entered before Charm, prepared to meet any potential threat.
The inside of the tent was spacious and comfortable, hung with glowing glass orbs that Aspen associated with Earth magic. A plush rug covered the ground, scattered with cushions for sitting or reclining. In the center was a table barely higher than Aspen’s knees.
O gestured to the space. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Might I offer you tea? Out there, we have sweet liquor that fizzes on the tongue. But I suspect something more grounded will fit the mood in here better. Am I wrong?”
“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Charm said.
Aspen arranged herself on one of the pillows. She knelt but then slid her legs sideways so her backside was partially on her calves and partially on the cushion. More importantly, her dirty boots were not the cushion itself. She’d probably tracked a little dirt onto the rug, but that couldn’t be helped.
O noted her position with a small smile, pleased that Aspen was capable of basic courtesy. It gave Aspen the urge to make a mess of things, but she held it at bay. She wasn’t a child.
The preparation and pouring of tea turned out to be an elaborate ceremony. Aspen’s patience, already thin, was frayed by the time O joined them.
“Are you the one who can grant us an annulment?” Charm asked, more directly than Aspen had expected. She must be impatient, too.
“You don’t wish to be married?” O asked.
“No.”
Aspen didn’t want to be married either, but it didn’t stop Charm’s decisive answer from hurting. She sipped her tea rather than make eye contact with anyone.
“Then you are not married,” O said. They laughed lightly, at the incredulity on Charm’s face and the barely contained fury on Aspen’s. “You cannot be married without consenting. At least, not through our rituals. There are lands and laws that allow it, but magic never would.”
“Great,” Aspen said. She and Charm had nearly died, but it turned out they’d never been in danger. They’d been scared and trapped and it had all been a trick. And then they’d been married, and it turned out that wasn’t true, either. She was ready to be done with this place. She wanted reality, where she could rely on what she saw, heard, and felt. “We’ll be on our way then.”
“You haven’t finished your tea,” O said mildly. “And I admit I am also curious, if you would indulge my questions. I don’t recall a case where anyone entered the trials unwillingly. Only those who are in love can see the entrance.”
Aspen pursed her lips. She didn’t dare take another sip of tea for fear that she would spit it out. She knew she was in love with Charm, had known and carried the knowledge for some time now. She didn’t particularly want Charm to know it.
Charm hadn’t said anything, either.
Branch, leaf, and root. For both of them to have seen the arch, Charm had to be in love with her.
Charm? In love with Aspen? The teacup in Aspen’s hand, the table touching her wrist, the cushion under her thighs, none of it felt solid. This couldn’t be happening. This was another trial. Aspen was being tested. If Charm were in love with her, she’d know. Charm had never said anything. She hadn’t even hinted or implied.
“There are many different ways to love someone,” Charm snapped. She must be shaken to lose her polite tone.
“There are,” O agreed. “But not all kinds of love summon the Arch of Trials.”
“And not all those who love wish for marriage,” Charm added.
“It isn’t a binding, legal marriage. There is no piece of paper in the magistrate’s office. No transfer of rights or property, no prohibitions against loving anyone else. The Arch detects love and longing for permanence. The trials are meant to foster a lasting spiritual bond.” O deflated slightly. They were quiet, contemplative, and then they nodded. “But if both of you reject that, then you are correct. I apologize on behalf of my people and our festival. As I said, you are a unique case. No one else has ever entered the trials, let alone completed them, without full knowledge and consent. They understand what they are doing and why they are doing it, and they know they cannot come to true harm. It is not intended as a trick. We failed you, and for that, I am very sorry.”
Still reeling from the idea that Charm loved her—but didn’t want to be married to her—Aspen didn’t move. Maybe Charm was tired of her. Maybe they should split up here. Charm could find someone to escort her back to Harstead. Someone who wouldn’t get her into danger or accidently marry her or fall in love with her.
“Aspen?” Charm asked quietly. She stared at Aspen’s hands, not her face.
Guilt and disappointment lodged themselves in Aspen’s stomach. She couldn’t abandon Charm. It was going to be a long, awkward journey back to Falland.
“Are you ready to leave?” Charm asked.
“Yes.”
O rose gracefully to their feet and motioned for Charm to exit the tent first. “I would like a moment with Aspen alone, if she consents.”
“Fine,” Aspen said.
Charm lingered for a moment before she ducked out of the tent, leaving Aspen with O. Aspen had to tilt her head back to see them. It was rare to meet someone so much taller. O’s expression was solemn as they reached toward Aspen.
Aspen stayed rooted to her spot, wary, but she didn’t flinch as O rubbed their thumb over the faint scars on Aspen’s forehead. It wasn’t a surprise that a Moon witch, especially one of O’s power, had recognized them.
“Would you like them back?” O asked. “I would not ask for anything in return. We have caused you suffering today. I owe you.”
It was too big a question to answer on the spot. Long ago, the Moon witch who’d taken Aspen’s antlers had offered to make the scars vanish, but Aspen had declined. She still couldn’t articulate why.
O continued, “If you ever decide, any of us can help you. All you have to do is ask.”
As if that was easy. Aspen grunted a thank you and then exited the tent. She was ready to be gone from this place.
9
Charm wanted to be free of this place. Not that Nauvis wasn’t a lovely village, or that Tescui’s cousin Ambren didn’t offer them a warm welcome and an equally warm hearth. But she and Aspen had planned to accept his hospitality before the magical trials and unwanted confessions. Sitting in his cozy little cottage felt like stewing. She wanted to move, to get away, to return to the road—a real road this time.
Of course, she couldn’t be free of the truth that hung heavy between her and Aspen. That would follow them whether they slept beneath a thatched roof or beneath the stars.
Unlike Tescui, Ambrem had manners. His hospitality had turned to open curiosity once he’d realized Charm and Aspen were the couple everyone was whispering about. At least Ambrem sensed their unease and quickly dropped the topic of the festival and the marriage-that-wasn’t.
They talked about Tescui instead, and Aspen shared stories and listened attentively when Ambrem spoke. Charm’s mind was still churning.
Marriage.
Trials.
Trials of what? Of love? Charm had been practical, solving problems so she and Aspen could progress. Being clever or logical—or brave and strong, like Aspen had been—didn’t mean a person was in love.
But Charm was. She couldn’t lie to herself any longer. And, thanks to O’s oversharing, she couldn’t lie to Aspen, either. She, Tasiz Ilmichexte Liazna, was in love with Aspen Silverglade.
