The Iron Butterfly (Iron Butterfly #1)(24)

The women visibly softened.

“Ah child; don't let old Ruzaa's bark worry you. I do get a little irrational about my gift sometimes. Once, long ago, a terrible man thought I could weave a potion to force people do his bidding.” She looked tired and worn out as she went on, “I was even been beaten as he tried to force my hand to work dark and evil things into potion form.” She held up her hands and I could see the white mangled tissue of faded burn marks around her hands. “I wouldn’t do it. That would be compromising my values. To give in, to take something that was meant for good and use it to do evil is a sin. And I refused. They could’ve killed me for all I cared.” Her gaze turned steely in determination before flicking to a movement over my shoulder. She dropped her hands and hid them behind her apron. I turned but saw nothing.

My heart lurched with a feeling of empathy. Here was a survivor, a kindred heart, someone who had lived through unbearable circumstances and arose to live on. I had more in common with this unstable female than anyone I had met in Calandry.

“Ruzaa, stay strong, never change who you are for anyone.” I reached for her hand under her apron and held it in such a way as to expose my own scars. Ruzaa’s eyes widened with understanding, and she looked up at me as tears sparkled in both of our eyes. A bond between two survivors formed; one old, one young.

Avina, not understanding the exchange, finally spoke up with her childish exuberance. “What about getting a boy to kiss you? I could really use something like that!” Ruzaa laughed out loud and I smiled at the excited look on Avina’s freckled face, when my gaze was drawn to the flowers that were drying and hung around posts from the booth. An idea struck me.

“Ruzaa. What about dyes? Can any of your flowers be used for dyes? I’m looking for a gift for the Citadel’s head seamstress, Berry. I would love to give her something to experiment with and get a color that no one else has?”

Her aged eyes grew thoughtful as she pulled a plant that resembled holly and was a rich deep blue. She put it in a small cinch sack. “Try this. I would say she could get a wonderful deep blue and some indigo. But here is a secret.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Whatever garment she makes with this dye, the wearer will always have feelings of hope.” She winked at me. I couldn’t help myself. I hugged her with delight, almost knocking her over. Ruzaa’s surprised laughter stayed with me as I carried my small prize with me down the street. She had even given me a wonderful deal on my present. Avina, who was very patient during this exchange, was now buzzing with excitement.

“You know she’s crazy right?” Avina whispered in a hushed voice, hoping that Ruzaa wouldn’t overhear.

“Aren’t we all?” I answered back.

“Come on.” Avina pulled me toward the mercantile districts and their brightly painted yellow shops. “We have to get you some material for a new outfit for the Founding Celebration. Oh, and a mask!”

“Founding Celebration?”

Avina rolled her eyes at me. “You know, the Founding Celebration, the midwinter celebration in honor of the founding of Calandry. Are you going with anyone?”

My mind immediately went to Joss but then a picture of him and Syrani flashed in my mind. “Um no, I didn’t know that you had to go with someone, I thought you could go as a group?”

“Of course you can go as a group. But on the final night of the Celebration, the Palace holds a masked event... It’s the one night of the year when everyone in the Citadel is equal, and of course there is dancing and contests. But the best part is when the Faeries pass out matching dance tokens to the male and female guests; you are supposed to find your match to redeem your dance,” she rushed out almost in one breath. Her eyes got a dreamy look before finishing. “And then at midnight, when the bell tolls midnight, whoever kisses you is meant to be your true love.” I was getting lost in her babble of love, fairies and tokens.

“That seems unlikely. It sounds like the drivel a bunch of desperate girls would make up,” I chuckled.

“But, Thalia!” Avina whined, eyes opening wide, “I am a desperate girl. And it's not drivel. I didn't make it up. It's tradition.”

“It's a stupid tradition.” I could see that my comment hurt her as her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Leaning over I nudged her. “So are you going with anyone?”

“No, I wish though.”

“Well I’m not going with anyone either, so I don’t see the point of getting all dressed up especially when no one knows who you are.”

“I see your point Thalia, but still…” Avina’s words drifted off as she pretended to dance with an invisible dance partner. Doing a curtsey and bowing in acceptance, she spun around and around until she accidentally bumped into a man. Then Avina tripped and went flying into a crate full of passionfruit.

“Now look here!” A stern vendor with a full beard yelled at us while his upset wife came rushing out into the street to try and save the fruit. She grabbed the closest crate and attempted to put the passionfruit in them while Avina followed the fruit rolling into the street, nabbing them and putting them in her apron.

“Sorry! I’m so, so, sorry,” Avina cried. A wagon drawn by two horses came rushing down the street, and the driver didn’t slow down as the bounty of fruit was crushed beneath the hooves and wagon wheels.