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A Floodtide country retreat was a time for idle amusements--games of flirtation and matchmaking. But it was also an olive branch, and that was why Antuniet had said yes to Margerit's invitation. And against her better judgment she had agreed to preside over the traditional sweetheart divination around the Mayday bonfire. There was truth in fire--a truth she had been trying to avoid.
* * *
“Jealous?” Jeanne’s voice whispered in her ear.
A knife turned in her gut. “What?” How did she…?
“Are you jealous of them?” She waved a hand toward where Margerit and Barbara danced in close embrace. “I am. Oh, I don't mean personally. I gave up on Barbara the first time I saw the two of them together. But I'm jealous that they found each other. I'm jealous that Fortune smiled so brightly on them and left people like you and me in the shade.”
Antuniet said tightly, “Fortune never owed me anything.”
“But don't you ever dream what it could be like?” Jeanne said wistfully. “To have one person in this world whose first thought on waking is of you? Whose last memory at sleeping is your touch? Who rejoices at your happiness and mourns your sorrows?”
The knife turned again and sank deeper. She twisted away from Jeanne's side and fled blindly out into the darkness, down the path toward the river. She stumbled over a tree root and fell, tearing the skirts of her gown. After that, she slowed her flight until she came out into the moonlight and sat on the stone wall at the river’s edge. At first she didn't recognize the sound as emanating from her own throat. It was a harsh animal bleating, welling up from deep within. She stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle the noise, and bit down until the blood came, as if pain could drive out pain.
She heard the footsteps coming down the path after her and thought, Go away. Please just go away.
* * *
“Jealous?” Jeanne’s voice whispered in her ear.
A knife turned in her gut. “What?” How did she…?
“Are you jealous of them?” She waved a hand toward where Margerit and Barbara danced in close embrace. “I am. Oh, I don't mean personally. I gave up on Barbara the first time I saw the two of them together. But I'm jealous that they found each other. I'm jealous that Fortune smiled so brightly on them and left people like you and me in the shade.”
Antuniet said tightly, “Fortune never owed me anything.”
“But don't you ever dream what it could be like?” Jeanne said wistfully. “To have one person in this world whose first thought on waking is of you? Whose last memory at sleeping is your touch? Who rejoices at your happiness and mourns your sorrows?”
The knife turned again and sank deeper. She twisted away from Jeanne's side and fled blindly out into the darkness, down the path toward the river. She stumbled over a tree root and fell, tearing the skirts of her gown. After that, she slowed her flight until she came out into the moonlight and sat on the stone wall at the river’s edge. At first she didn't recognize the sound as emanating from her own throat. It was a harsh animal bleating, welling up from deep within. She stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle the noise, and bit down until the blood came, as if pain could drive out pain.
She heard the footsteps coming down the path after her and thought, Go away. Please just go away.
