Cauldrons and Cat Tails (Moonvale Matches #2)

35. Tandor

CHAPTER 35

Tandor

M y arms ached as I rinsed my last goblet, setting it on a towel to dry.

I lost count of how many drinks I served, but it felt like I had given something to every folk in town. And thank the fates for that, because I was almost out of dragon eggshell powder. Luckily, it seemed that everyone had gotten their dose.

And that meant nobody would be prowling after Kizzi tonight.

Well, except for me, of course.

“Alright, I think we’re good!” I shouted to Ginger. She was back in the kitchen, washing up the last of the dishes.

She peeked her head out for a moment. “Go ahead and head out, I’ve got a few more bowls to wash and then I’ll lock up for the evening.”

I removed my apron, draping it over the bar counter. “Pretty successful morning, I’d say.”

“Certainly busy,” she mused. “But we did it. Now we can enjoy the evening and whatever shenanigans it brings.”

I wasn’t sure what Ginger would be getting up to, and she never told me anyway, so I didn’t bother to ask. It was personal for some folk.

“Be safe tonight!” I called as I strolled out the door.

“You too!” Her voice drifted to me on a brisk wind as the door knocked shut.

M y cottage was a mess. I hadn’t bothered tidying or putting away any of my newly purchased items. I washed myself quickly and pulled on a black tunic and trousers, along with my black cloak.

I wanted to blend into the night—to become the darkness.

My heart had been thumping heavily all day. The air was heavy, like the heavens were sinking too close to the surface. Hallow’s Eve was looming. I could practically feel the hours as they passed.

I smeared some charcoal on any exposed skin to mask my green hue and I tugged a mask over my face. I brought the charcoal around my eyes, too.

I stared in the mirror at the stranger in front of me.

I was darkness incarnate. The mask was shaped to my face and tied behind my head with a strip of fabric to keep it secure. It was painted to resemble the skull of a beast. The only holes were for my eyes. My hair was slicked back to keep it out of the way.

The whites of my sclera seemed to glow, surrounded by so much shadow. The effect was eerie.

I was ready.

My pulse thudded in my ears as I ventured back into the Greenwood Forest. The suns were long gone, and the moons were beginning their ascent in the sky.

The other wild folk vibrated with the same energy that charged me. It was contagious. Most were masked, cloaked, disguised as I was.

I couldn’t distinguish friend from stranger, but that was the entire point. Tonight, we were simply wild. We were free.

Cloaked figures gathered deep in the woods, surrounding a roaring bonfire.

Tommins was nowhere to be seen, blending into the crowd instead of standing in front of it. Tonight, he wasn’t the mayor. Tonight, he was simply another folk.

My breathing was noisy to my own ears. Air sawed in and out of my lungs.

A figure stepped forward, tossing a tunic into the bonfire. The flames surged and crackled. Another figure stepped forward. This one carried a bundle of herbs. The flames flared again. The cycle repeated—everyone stepping forward to drop an offering into the fire.

When it was my turn, I set my offering aflame—a small bundle of dried roses.

We remained still for what felt like hours, absorbing the sounds of the forest, watching the bonfire engulf every offering—turn them to nothing but embers and ash.

And then we began.