***
The first day of the Aerial Games came to a close after the pairs dances. Spectators trailed off to their homes or to the tavern. Patrons shared pints of ale at the tavern and boasted of their barn’s successes. Neste walked through the gathering dusk to the fountain, eager to congratulate Elen. Merchant tents around the fountain had been laced up tightly for the night, but she could still smell the warm sweetness of berry pies. Even though her stomach still tensed over her loss, it rumbled in appreciation. She did like berry pies. Marc’s barn had supped together, as they traditionally did on the first night of the Games. Marc had announced that the overall points placed his barn even with Morgan’s at the end of the first day. The riders cheered and lifted their mugs to toast each other.
Relieved that her loss hadn’t plunged the barn too low in the standings, Neste worried for tomorrow. If they won the group dance, they would surely win the Games. If they lost the dance, they couldn’t possibly beat Morgan. Neste paced around the fountain as she played scenarios in her head of victory and loss, of Hoel pleased and angry. With a hand on stone Aer’s rearing leg, she prayed to Rhiannon that Adam would shine tomorrow and tried not to think about her own flight.
Lost in her thoughts, time passed without her realizing. It grew quite dark, and Elen hadn’t come. Neste frowned and walked toward Morgan’s barn. She and Elen had met at the fountain every night since they’d become riders. Neither of them had ever missed in those two years.
Morgan’s barn and manor were ablaze with lanterns. Neste could hear a stringed instrument and voices raised in song. The barn celebrated. Morgan and Elen had won the pairs dance and probably announced their betrothal.
“Congratulations, fy cyfaill,” Neste whispered. Everything was right in Elen’s world.
Lonely, she turned and walked back past the dark fountain and down the lane to Marc’s barn where silence reigned. The warmth of Adam’s hug and smile clung to her heart, but her mind tried to focus on Hoel’s smile of encouragement before her race.
Wings Over Tremeirchson Page 12