DARKHAVEN | "Three Sisters" Book One

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gia

The week passed in a blur—even more so than the weeks tended to do at Darkhaven Castle, Gia found, and at last it was just the three sisters standing at the edge of the lake beneath a near full moon.

Roslin was standing barefoot in the sand, ankle-deep in the water turned black under the night sky. "Do you think it'll help? In truth?"

"Think what will help?" asked Blodwyn. She looked up momentarily from the sachet of seeds she'd been scattering around the grounds where the festival was to be held. With the right magic (and enough magic), they'd bloom overnight and turn the lakeside into a summer wonderland for the day's festivities.

"Cindralis. The celebration. Do you think it'll make us stronger?"

Gia joined Roslin at her side. "It's not about making us stronger," she reminded Roslin, "it's about celebrating the spirits."

"There's a great strength in the summer sun." Roslin seemed unfazed. "The summer and winter Iridials are the strongest—it's when we should be the strongest. The First—"

"Tomorrow night isn't about the First," interrupted Gia. "It's about the spirits, about nature, about all we take during the year. Tomorrow we honour the sacrifices of the Realm."

Roslin looked away. She was quiet.

Gia decided to let it be. Roslin, she knew, oft burnt herself out with a constant strive to be the best at all she tried to accomplish. It was a small wonder she took training so seriously, so intensely.

She instead took stock of the week's preparations. She made a checklist in her mind and set to ticking the boxes.

Wood had been gathered for the bonfire that would be lit as the sun set; Blodwyn had planted seeds for every piece of wood they collected because it was important to always give something back, as Gia had said. They had enchanted bushes to hang thick and heavy with the most beautiful pink and purple roses alongside naturally occurring vines of sweet, fragrant summer honeysuckle.

Blodwyn laid the long wooden table, brought down from the castle, with silken cloths and fresh garlands of greenery from the gardens. Gia had hung magelight lanterns to guide partygoers to the lake safely.

She kept moving, kept scanning. There would be music too, of course: pipers and drummers and fiddlers from the town. No good celebration could do without music—though Aleksander argued otherwise.

The sisters had been working in the kitchen, planning their menu of food and drink. There would be plenty of mead, of course, but also rosemary garlic bread, delicately woven tomato and fennell salad, lavender and honey cakes and fruits. Gia had seen to much of the menu herself.

It was the finest feast the sisters had ever prepared, and—gods! It felt so, so good to work with their hands again, to make something real and human and tangible. Gia, for one, had had enough of the coddled princess-in-a-tower treatment.

When she had checked everything once, twice, and a third time, Gia nodded, sufficiently pleased with their work. She smiled at her sisters and called them to join hands and pray to the spirits and to give thanks for all they had given so that the sisters might have this celebration in their name.

Let Roslin be right, prayed Gia, though she'd never admit it. Please, please, let tomorrow be enough.

x

"How do I look?" Gia stepped from behind the floral partition in Roslin's room with a twirl. She'd chosen a dress of white and gold instead of the usual reds and blacks she'd been so commonly dressed in since her arrival at Darkhaven. It hugged her waist before billowing into soft skirts of chiffon and tulle.