Page 47 of Wild Thorns

"We do now. Come dance with me."

"Miss Delphine isn't finished—"

"Done." The vendor's hands lifted from my head. When I reached up, I felt something lovely: ribbon twisted into loops and whorls, secure but light. "Go on, child. Dance while you're young."

Jasper pulled me to my feet before I could ask her to finish her sentence. What was a crown of cypress? Who were those that would never wear one? And why?

But then we were in the crowd, and the questions scattered.

The band had shifted from bluegrass to something slower, sweeter; a fiddle weaving through a melody that seemed to catch in my chest. Jasper's hand found my waist, his other hand catching mine, and suddenly we were moving.

He was an excellent dancer. Of course he was. He led with confidence, spinning me under his arm and catching me when I stumbled, laughing when I stepped on his foot.

"You're thinking too hard," he said.

"I'm trying not to embarrass myself."

"Impossible. You look beautiful." His eyes dropped to the crown on my head, and something flickered in them, something warmer than his usual playfulness. "Blue suits you."

"Miss Delphine picked it."

"Miss Delphine knows what she's doing." He pulled me closer until I could feel the heat of him through his shirt. "She's been making crowns for fifty years. She has a gift for seeing what people need."

I thought about the way she'd looked at me. The thing she'd started to say, about cypress, about crowns, about people who would never wear them.

"What's a crown of cypress?" I asked.

Jasper's hand tightened on my waist. The reaction was subtle, barely perceptible, but I felt it.

"That’s Eli’s domain," he said lightly. Too lightly. “Speak of the devil.”

He spun me around, right into Eli’s arms

"My turn."

Eli stepped right into the dance, his expression calm, his eyes steady on mine. He was wearing a crown too, silver ribbon woven into something architectural, precise. It suited him.

Jasper hesitated for just a moment. Then he stepped back, winking at me. "Don't let him bore you with historical facts."

"I make no promises," Eli said, and took my hand.

Dancing with Eli was different. Where Jasper was warmth and momentum, Eli was stillness and intention. He held me like I was something valuable, something he was afraid to break. His hand on my waist was light but certain.

"You're a good dancer," I said.

"I've had practice." A small smile. "There have been a lot of festivals."

"How many?"

"Enough to know the songs by heart." He turned me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're curious about the crowns."

It wasn't a question.

"Miss Delphine started to tell me something. About cypress. About people who will never wear—"

"The crown of cypress is old," Eli said carefully. "Older than the festival. It's worn for... significant occasion. When one successfully completes a trial of sorts."

"A trial?"