Acotar retelling

Calanmai

The day of Calanmai dawned, and I didn't see Tamlin or Lucien all day. As the afternoon shifted into dusk, I found myself again at the main crossroads of the house. None of the bird-faced servants were to be found. The kitchen was empty of staff and the food they'd been preparing for two days. The sound of drums issued.

The drumbeats came from far away—beyond the garden, past the game park, into the forest that lay beyond. They were deep, probing. A single beat, echoed by two responding calls. Summoning.

I stood by the doors to the garden, staring out over the property as the sky became awash in hues of orange and red. In the distance, upon the sloping hills that led into the woods, a few fires flickered, plumes of dark smoke marring the ruby sky—the unlit bonfires I'd spotted two days ago.

The drums turned faster—louder. Though I was accustomed to the smell of magic, my nose pricked with the rising tang of metal, stronger than usual. I took a step forward, then halted on the threshold. I should go back in, I needed to wait and time it well to find Rhysand.

Behind me, the setting sun stained the black-and-white tiles of the hall floor a shimmering shade of tangerine, and my long shadow seemed to pulse to the beat of the drums.

Even the garden, usually buzzing with the orchestra of its denizens, had quieted to hear the drums. There was a string—a string tied to my gut that pulled me toward those hills, commanding me to go, to hear the faerie drums ...

I might have done just that had Tamlin not appeared from down the hall.

He was shirtless, with only the baldric across his chest. The pommel of his sword glinted golden in the dying sunlight, and the feathered tops of arrows were stained red as they poked above his shoulder.

I turned away and headed to my room.

With the incessant drumming and dozens of bonfires that popped up along the far hills, I couldn't stop pacing up and down my room, gazing out toward the fires burning in the distance.

Stay in your chamber.

But a wild, wicked voice weaving in between the drumbeats whispered otherwise. Go, that voice said, tugging at me. Go see.

By ten o'clock, I could no longer stand it. I put on what I thought a fake woman would wear to this kind of celebration and then I wrapped an ornate cloak on top, concealing my face. I followed the drums.

The stables were empty, but me and my white mare were soon trotting along. I didn't need to guide her—she, too, followed the lure of the drums, and ascended the first of the foothills.

Smoke and magic hung thick in the air. Concealed in my hooded cloak, I approached the first giant bonfire atop the hill. There were hundreds of High Fae milling about, but I couldn't discern any of their features beyond the various masks they wore. When I tried to focus on a specific feature of their faces, it became a blur of color. They were more solid when I viewed them from the side of my vision, but if I turned to face them, I was met with shadows and swirling colors.

It was magic—that damn glamour put on me, meant to prevent my viewing them properly.

I dismounted my mare but kept close to her as I made my way through the crowd, my telltale human features hidden in the shadows of my hood.

Though a cluster of drummers played on one side of the fire, the faeries flocked to a trench between two nearby hills. I left Rutlan tied to a solitary sycamore crowning a knoll and followed them, savoring the pulsing beat of the drums as it resonated through the earth and into the soles of my feet. No one looked twice in my direction.

I almost slid down the steep bank as I entered the hollow. At one end, a cave mouth opened into a soft hillside. Its exterior had been adorned with flowers and branches and leaves, and I could make out the beginnings of a pelt-covered floor just past the cave mouth. What lay inside was hidden from view as the chamber veered away from the entrance, but firelight danced upon the walls.