The Orcia Festival (1)
The inns, it seemed, served the same basic menu no matter where you went.
Scarcely had the two of them settled at their table than the stew arrived, along with several pieces of black bread for dipping.
Alec lifted his spoon while stealing careful glances at Yona. Her expression, as she listened to the other adventurers' conversation, had been far from good, and his own had soured in step with it.
The reason was simple: while the adventurers could afford to dismiss the whole affair as rich men spouting useless nonsense, Yona and Alec were in no position to think so comfortably.
"Yona."
"……"
"Yona. Your stew's getting cold."
Only after Alec urged her a second time did Yona snap back to herself, give him a long look, and finally pick up her spoon. Even then, her expression remained noticeably troubled.
There was no doubt that the conversation those adventurers had been sharing had gotten under her skin somehow.
Alec dabbed his bread into the stew broth, sneaking glance after glance at her face. Yona's pale face betrayed little in the way of expression. And yet there was something woven into it—a faint thread of unease so small that no one but Alec, who had spent years watching her from up close, would ever have caught it.
"Yona."
"Yeah?"
"I know what you're thinking. And no."
"…No to what?"
Yona had picked up a piece of bread and was moistening it thoroughly in the broth. Then she poured a cup of milk from the pot and slid it across to Alec.
"That place. That sanctuary, whatever it was. The Sanctuary of the Water God or whatever you'd call it. It's got nothing to do with us. You know what I mean?"
"I know. And I wasn't thinking about it."
"You so were. I've been traveling with you for three years—you think I can't read your mind by now?"
Alec tore off a hunk of bread, chewed it down, and drained the milk in one gulp. Yona watched him quietly as he did.
"…Fine. Honestly? I did think maybe I ought to go see it. After all, I'm—"
"A priest. Right?"
At Alec's interruption, cutting straight across her words, Yona fell silent. And having cut her off, Alec said nothing more—just kept eating his stew.
Alec had read her exactly right.
Yona had a stubborn pride about being a priest, and it showed itself in the strangest of places. Whether those places were actually strange or not was, admittedly, a standard measured entirely by Alec's own values—but even held up against his, Yona's conviction ran deep.
Everyone thought her head was a little off—here she was spouting nonsense about being a man, about coming from another world—but even so, they all liked her, and part of the reason was exactly that. Though the Church gave healers no particular regard, she carried herself with the pride of a true priest, and she acted in a manner worthy of the name.
She never abandoned those in hardship. She tended to the distressed, and never walked past those in pain. She offered the very best mercy she could give, and when she did, she'd insist it was only natural—she was a priest, after all; that was how she'd been taught. No one could hate her for it.
And so it was that even when she went on about her nonsense—in her own mind, dead-serious words—the worst anyone ever did was laugh and wave it off.
That was why Alec could say with certainty: of course she was thinking about it.
"Yeah. I'm a priest, after all."
"Thought so."
Yes. He'd known she would say that. Alec kept his face perfectly neutral, giving nothing away.
"But not now. Not yet. If you go now, I can't come with you."
Yona simply stared at him as he said it. Alec never spoke like this without cause. If he was saying it, then there had to be a reason—a reason she wanted to hear.
"I've decided, Yona. I'm going to enjoy this festival with you. There are only two days left—if you can't wait that long, what kind of patience is that? Am I wrong? Once the festival ends—once we've had our fill of it—then I'll go with you. Wherever it leads."
Of all the reasons she might have imagined, this was one Yona had never once seen coming. Because he wants to enjoy the festival? Because he wants to enjoy it with me? Is that seriously a reason?
"That's the reason?"
"That's the reason. A perfectly good one, isn't it?"
Alec wiped his bowl clean with a final piece of bread, popped it into his mouth, and met Yona's gaze steadily. His dark eyes held hers without a flicker of hesitation—proof that he meant every word.
Yona found herself at a loss in the face of that earnest expression. A festival—well, it wasn't as though Yona disliked festivals. Beyond like or dislike, she'd simply never experienced one, so her curiosity was genuine enough.
"All right. Fine. After the festival ends—after we've enjoyed it—then we'll go. That sanctuary, whatever it's called… that pond place. We'll see what's actually going on with it. And after that, we go find Kayak."
"We'd be passing that way regardless."
"Right. Either way, it's on the road."
At her words, Alec nodded. Yona, mimicking him, swept her emptied stew bowl clean with a scrap of bread and popped it in her mouth.
It was delicious.
By the time they finished supper and returned to their room, the sun was already hanging low, the dusk settling in.
In the room she shared with Alec, Yona opened the window that had been shut all day.
The cry of some nameless bird drifted up from far below, and as though answering it, another bird called back in turn. Here and there, households were beginning supper preparations; chimneys in the residential quarter—well beyond the merchant strip—sent up thin columns of smoke, and from the mouth of some alleyway drifted the shouts of children at play.
A village on the eve of a festival became a festival ground in and of itself. This town, pulsing with excitement and anticipation, delight and giddy expectancy, showed not a trace of gloom on any face—and thanks to that, laughter echoed down every lane, and the murmur of voices and raucous chatter spilling from taverns and eating houses conjured a scene as nostalgic as dust gathered on the landing of a well-worn staircase.
"Alec."
Standing at the window and gazing down at it all, Yona suddenly called his name aloud.
And exactly, precisely, as she had expected—
"Hmm?"
—Alec's voice came in answer.
"Nothing. Just felt like calling you."
Because the truth was, she hadn't had anything particular to say.
While Yona gazed out the window, darkness began its slow descent upon the streets. The long shadows that stretched down every alley were swallowed by the gathering dusk, their edges blurring until they merged into a single mass of dark. The deep orange of sunset grew steadily duller, and at last it, too, dissolved into the night.
Watching it fade, Yona stepped back and closed the window. With it shut, even the last of the sunset light was barred from the room.
In an instant, darkness pooled through the chamber. Only when Alec lit a candle did the room brighten again.
"I'm going to wash up."
Yona said it in a listless voice as she crossed to her bed and rummaged through her pack. She fished out the laundry she'd washed earlier—a single pair of underwear and a cloth of unbleached cotton—rolled them up, and headed for the bathroom.
Alec merely watched her retreating figure without a word.
I've made up my mind, but still.
Only after Yona had disappeared inside and he heard the latch click shut did Alec sprawl back onto his own bed. The inn, built of woven timber, had no finish on its ceiling—the interlocking beams lay bare—and Alec gazed up at them, lost in thought.
That was what weighed on him now.
Frankly, taken on its own, the tattoo was no real problem. Yona bearing a mark on her skin didn't make her any less Yona—she was, and remained, enough exactly as she was.
It had already been years since he left Church territory under the Geas. And then, drifting as he was, he had met Yona—and Alec had never dreamed he would lose his heart to her so completely.
Looks like I've got no choice but to go with the plan after all.
He'd spent years in Church territory, and years more as an adventurer. In all that time he had barely so much as spoken to a woman, and so it had all come down, in the end, to this one worry.
He had made a plan of sorts. But it might be—just might be—crueler to Yona than he could bear.
…Will she really be all right?
It would be a tremendous shock to her. If he truly carried it through—carried out that plan exactly as devised—it would land on Yona like a thunderbolt.
And yet no better way came to mind. He had considered the alternative, too—something slow, something step by step, letting things grow naturally into something good. But no. Impossible. Alec, who had never so much as held a conversation with a woman, let alone courted one, seducing Yona? However he turned it over, it was hopeless.
Even that line he'd tossed her way had been, for Alec at least, something of a masterstroke. Something beautiful you see every day—that's what you are, Yona. For Alec, delivering that line had taken every ounce of nerve he had.
And for his trouble, she had laughed herself sick at him. So now he had no idea what to do next.
He didn't understand a woman's heart—he didn't understand women at all. And so he had no idea where, or how, to even begin.
It had been fine while he was still riding the high of his bold resolution—God, the momentum had felt good—but now? Where was he supposed to start, and with what?
…There's no other way forward.
As Alec saw it, one of Yona's problems was that delusion of hers—that she had once been a man. This whole business had proved it was no delusion, but—even so, didn't that still fall short of proof that Yona had truly been a man once? It might simply have been some magic that flipped the caster's sex no matter who cast it.
And if that was the case—whether she'd once been a man or not—then surely the right place to start was by making her aware of what she was now: a woman.
Yona almost certainly didn't dislike Alec. If she had, she never would have traveled beside him for nearly three years. So the odds were good, either way.
Which meant one thing was certain: this festival was the chance he'd been waiting for.
The sound of water began to drift from the bathroom as Yona started to wash. And with every splash that reached his ears, Alec's worries only grew deeper.