Spin the Dawn(65)

“Don’t mind him,” Orksan apologized. “My wife doesn’t like him either. Luckily, he comes and goes from our camp.”

That did nothing to soothe my worries. Edan laughed with Orksan’s men, trying to brush off the incident. But the muscles around his eyes were tight—he was worried.

“Drink!” Orksan’s men said, passing around a wine gourd. “Drink!”

I lifted the gourd to my nose and sniffed. I made a face—the wine smelled sour.

“Women can drink too. No law against it.”

“Just a sip,” I said, taking a swig. I coughed. “It burns.”

Edan took the gourd and patted my back. “Never had wine before?”

“Of course I have,” I spluttered.

“Wine at the temple doesn’t count,” he teased.

He’d got me. I’d only ever drunk rice wine at the temple and had never had more than a sip. But once, my brothers had brewed ale out of barley, and it was awful. They drank it all in one night, and afterward their clothes reeked so badly I spent an entire day washing out the smell.

My eyes watered with memories of Finlei, Sendo, Keton, and me as children. I wondered how Baba was doing, whether he’d gotten the letters I’d sent from the Samarand Passage and the news that I was now the imperial tailor. I hoped he was proud of me, that he and Keton had spent the money I sent, and had enough to eat. Winter would come to Port Kamalan all too soon. I vowed to write them tonight.

“It wasn’t something my father kept in the house,” I said evasively, remembering the difficult months Baba had spent after Mama’s death.

“But you had three brothers.”

“Three overprotective brothers,” I reminded him. “I still have one.”

“I’d like to meet him someday,” Edan said after finishing his stew. There was a dot of sauce on his cheek, and I fought the urge to wipe it off with my finger. “Do you think he’d approve of me…as your husband?” He winked, and I had to clench my fists to keep from punching him in the ribs.

“You haven’t met the girl’s family yet?” Orksan said.

“We’re on our way to her home now,” replied Edan smoothly.

As Edan launched into a ridiculous tale about how we’d met and gotten married, I wanted to cover my face with my hands. I’d run away from a terrible match with the local butcher, he told them, stowing away in his caravan, only for Edan himself to fall in love with me—I was so mortified I simply took another drink. And another. The more I drank, the less it burned my throat. The less I worried, too, about Lady Sarnai’s dresses or Vachir or Keton and Baba at home without me.

“Easy there,” Edan said, pushing the gourd from me.

“He doesn’t want you to sleep too well,” one of Orksan’s men piped up.

The men chuckled, but Edan didn’t. I dipped my head low, not knowing if the flush on my cheeks was from embarrassment or from the wine.

The men began exchanging stories, and when it was Edan’s turn, he drew a little wooden flute from the folds of his cloak. He whistled often when we were traveling. But I’d never heard him play.

“I never can remember the words to songs or stories,” he said with a laugh. “But I can remember the notes to a tune.”

He pressed the flute to his lips. The sound was sweet, and there was an innocence about the melody, one that tugged at my heartstrings. Even the children were quiet as Edan played, the little boys tapping their feet to the rhythm.

Above us, the flushed moon rose. The sky was brilliant amber, streaked with honey and persimmon. The moon climbed steadily, a pink rose blooming amid soft flames.

I sat cross-legged on my blanket and gazed at Edan. Normally I wouldn’t have stared at him so obviously, but the wine had washed away my caution. There was a tickle in my stomach as I listened to him. I didn’t want this night to end.

Edan looked peaceful when he played, as if he were serenading the moon. His face was burnt and tanned, as mine must have been. The sky slowly darkened to mahogany.

Then the song was over. Everyone clapped, and Edan bowed his head. He looked tired, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “The wife and I should retire. It’s getting late.”

“It’s not late,” I protested. I lifted my head to the sky. “You just want to leave so you can fly away.”

If I hadn’t drunk so much, I would have caught Edan’s flinch, but it was fleeting, and I barely noticed. He forced a laugh and patted my shoulder. “Up we go. The wife needs her rest.”

“No good-night kiss?” Orksan teased.

Orksan’s brothers chimed in. “Kiss her.”

“You can’t leave without a kiss.”

That tickle in my stomach returned. My head weighed more than I remembered as I turned to face Edan. He was already looking at me, a strange, hesitant flickering in his eyes. Was he going to kiss me? Orksan and his brothers chanted in the background, and my heart quickened. Was he leaning forward?

I couldn’t bear the suspense. So hastily I surprised even myself, I kissed Edan on the cheek. A quick peck, then I shot up so fast that Edan had to grab me by the waist so I wouldn’t fall.

Edan wrapped my arm over his shoulder. I couldn’t argue. My heart pounded, and blood rushed to my head when he pressed a gentle kiss on the side of my lips, just missing my mouth.