Chapter 33 Calan Mai (1)

Peter leaned against the shadowed corner of a thatched house. The faint hum of activity filled the air, the town of Bala was alive. He watched the workers file through the marketplace, their carts loaded with sacks of grain that had no business existing this early in the season.

His sharp eyes scanned the crowd. The sights of this bustling town were a stark contrast to the dying, desolate villages Peter had passed on his way here. But what drew his attention was the line snaking toward the storehouse.

It wasn't hunger that gathered them, he realized, but pay—grain exchanged for labor. The workers were jubilant, sharing laughs as sacks were weighed and handed out. No coins, but real sustenance.

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The Feast of Calan Mai

Dawn broke over Bala , and the town was already alive with preparations. The scent of roasting meat mingled with the sweet aroma of fresh bread. Wooden tables were hauled into the square, adorned with garlands of wildflowers and bowls of honeycomb. Children darted between workers, laughing as they carried garlands or handfuls of petals.

At the heart of it all was Ethan, seated at the head of a long table. The feast had been his decree.

"Lord Ieuan!" a boy no older than ten called out, his voice bright with excitement. "The bonfires are ready!"

Ethan smiled down at him, ruffling his hair. "Good. Make sure they're high enough to touch the sky."

The boy nodded, running off, and Ethan turned his attention back to the crowd. "To Bala," Ethan said, his voice carrying over the crowd. "To the hands that build, the minds that plan, and the hearts that keep us strong. May the fires of Calan Mai burn bright in our souls."

A cheer erupted, mugs clashing as the people toasted with him. Ethan smiled and sat, though his mind was far from the celebration.

The air was thick with the scent of smoke and ale, the crackling bonfires casting long, flickering shadows over the villagers of Bala. The warmth of the fires seemed to seep into every corner of the night, wrapping the village in a golden glow. And yet Beca stood apart, her plain linen dress and unadorned hair marking her as an outsider amidst the finery of the other women.

She watched from the edge of the crowd, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if to shield herself from the celebration. Her eyes traced the dancers, especially the young women who twirled in their colorful gowns, their faces alight with joy. Their laughter carried on the wind, sharp and mocking to her ears. Why had she even come?

Beca turned away, her gaze falling to the ground. But before she could take a single step, a voice broke through her thoughts.

"Beca."

It was low and smooth. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as she turned to face him.

Ethan stood before her, his tall frame silhouetted against the firelight. His blonde hair fell in tousled waves around his face, and his piercing black eyes were behind a mask of carved wood. He was dressed in a simple tunic. "M-My lord," she stammered, dropping into a clumsy curtsy. "I didn't see you there....you have a mask on. "

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer. "Nor I you, until now. Why are you standing here all alone? The festival is meant to be enjoyed."

Beca lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I… didn't think I should join in. I feel like i don't belong here."

Ethan tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "Belong?" he repeated, his voice laced with amusement. "Tonight is Calan Mai, Beca. There are no debts, rules or ranks. Only fire, music, and freedom." He held out his hand, his fingers flexing slightly as if beckoning her to take it. "Dance with me."

Her breath hitched, her gaze darting from his outstretched hand to his masked face. "I… I don't know how, my lord."

"Neither do I," he admitted with a soft chuckle. "But does it matter? Tonight, we're not lord and maid. We're just two people dancing in the flames." His voice dropped to a whisper, almost conspiratorial. "Don't tell me you've never dreamed of letting go, even for just one night."

His words struck a chord deep within her, stirring something she hadn't dared to acknowledge. Hesitantly, she reached out, her trembling fingers brushing against his palm. The moment their skin touched, a jolt of electricity surged through her, setting her nerves ablaze.

Ethan's fingers closed around hers, firm and reassuring, as he pulled her into the circle of dancers. The music swelled around them, a lively tune played on pipes and drums, and the crowd seemed to part to make way for them. Beca stumbled at first, unsure of her footing, but Ethan's grip tightened, steadying her.

"Relax," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear as he drew her closer. "Just follow me."

She nodded, her body instinctively responding to his lead. They moved together, their steps awkward at first but gradually falling into sync as the music carried them along. Ethan's hands rested lightly on her waist, guiding her with a confidence that made her feel weightless. The world around her blurred, the laughter and cheers fading into a distant hum as she focused on the feel of him against her.

For the first time, she noticed the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to his skin, mingling with the smoky aroma of the bonfires. His touch was warm, his presence overwhelming, and she found herself leaning into him, her resistance crumbling with each passing moment.

Beca felt something shift between them. When Ethan's gaze met hers, there was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes—a hunger that mirrored her own.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. The words sent a thrill through her, igniting a fire deep within her core.

Before she could respond, Ethan's arm slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Their bodies pressed together, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. She gasped, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance as he dipped her low, his face inches from hers.

The world seemed to hold its breath as their eyes locked, the tension between them crackling like the flames of the bonfire. Time slowed, the noise of the festival fading into silence as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Come with me," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Let me show you what this night can truly be."

Her heart pounded in her chest, every nerve in her body screaming at her to say yes. And yet, a small, rational part of her mind hesitated. "My lord, this… this isn't proper." I'm older than you...

Without another word, he led her away from the fires, weaving through the shadows toward the edge of the woods. The sounds of the festival grew fainter with each step, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of an owl. The cool night air brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine as they ventured deeper into the darkness.

When they finally stopped, they were hidden from view, the trees and the lake forming a natural barrier around them. Ethan turned to face her, his hands resting on her hips as he drew her close once more.

"Take off your mask," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.

Her fingers trembled as she obeyed, pulling the simple cloth mask from her face and letting it fall to the ground. His eyes swept over her features, a look of undisguised admiration crossing his face.

Beca's breath caught as he leaned in, their faces so close she could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, anticipation coiling tight in her stomach as his lips hovered mere inches from her own.

"Ieuan …" she whispered, the name tasting foreign yet thrilling on her tongue.

That was all the invitation he needed. With a low growl, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that burned hotter than any bonfire. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her even closer.