The Last Dragon King (Kings of Avalier #1)(5)

My mother walked over to some wildflowers growing in front of Mrs. Patties’ house and plucked a purple posey, tucking it into my braid. “Go and have your May Day kiss and then rush right back home. I’ll pack your things.” She nodded.

I frowned at that. Pack my things? I’d just gotten back from a week-long hunt. There was no way I’d be going out again without some proper rest. But she’d consented to the kissing tent so I wasn’t going to argue. Scurrying off across the yard, I ran first to Miss Graseen’s herbal garden and snatched a sprig of mint. She poked her head out of her kitchen window and grinned.

“Kissing tent?” she asked.

I blushed and shoved the two mint leaves into my mouth, chewing on them vigorously to freshen my breath. Even though I had just brushed my teeth, I wasn’t taking any chances with my first kiss. Miss Graseen let us take a sprig here and there, and in turn we all pulled her weeds and mended her fence when predators broke in.

I doubled back, ready to enter the white silk tent, when I craned my neck to the main gate, hearing a commotion.

A large procession of the king’s Royal Guard were coming through and headed right this way. I froze, in awe of the horses and their armor. The sunlight glinted across the golden dragon crests on their chests, and I momentarily forgot about the kissing tent. I’d wanted to be in the Royal Guard since I could hold a sword. That of course was not very ladylike and so my mother had discouraged it, but I’d never lost that dream. To my knowledge, there was only one woman in the guard.

Regina Wayfeather.

She was rumored to be the leader of the entire Royal Guard. I wanted to run over and see if she was here and shamefully ask for her to touch my hunting bow for good luck, but I couldn’t ignore that my window to get my first kiss was closing. Not to mention that my mother seemed out of sorts so I’d have to run home right after.

As the king’s Royal Guard dismounted and started to walk towards the tent, I slipped inside. The bustle of excited chatting reached my ears and my gaze flicked to the other side of the tent, where the young eligible men stood. I locked eyes with Nathanial and he grinned, which caused me to return the smile.

“Arwen!” Kendal called, and I veered to the right, where all of the young women stood in a long row. They were all in their best dresses and had even applied charcoal eyeliner and beetroot lip color, while I stood in linen trousers and a wet braid that Mother had tried to fancy up with a flower.

Now I felt foolish. Who came to the May Day kissing tent in trousers?

A hunter.

When my father died, it was the middle of winter. I’d never forget the pangs of hunger that following year for as long as I lived. The village gave us handouts here and there, but without a hunter in the family to do a monthly trip or work in the mines, we would have surely died. That year, I made my first trap and started bringing back small game.

Ratin was the lowest animal on the totem pole, but it allowed my mother to grieve and not have to rush into a new marriage to try to put food on the table.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

Mrs. Brenna, who was hosting the May Day tradition, walked towards the center of the room and cleared her throat. Brenna was human, and one of the village seamstresses. She sewed all of our wedding gowns, so making some lifelong matches today was in her best interest. She always wore beautiful dresses that pushed her giant breasts halfway into her throat and distracted all the men.

“Today may very well be the day you meet your future wife,” she told the men, and was met with whoops and cheers. She then turned to the women: “Don’t worry, they get better at kissing as time goes on.”

We all burst into nervous laughter, and a few of the men groaned at her insult.

I lined myself up directly with Nathanial, then the blindfold came down over my eyes.

“No cheating,” Kendal said as she tied it tightly behind my head. I made a slow and deliberate move to raise my blindfold a tiny bit but a hand came down hard, smacking mine.

“This is in the Maker’s hands now,” Mrs. Brenna scolded me, and my stomach tied into knots.

“Young lovers,” Brenna announced, “walk forward and kiss the first person you touch.”

The sound of scrambling feet filled my ears as we all stumbled forward, arms out. I wanted to call Nathanial’s name, but that would seem desperate. I tried to look down and see if maybe I could recognize his boots, but Kendal had tied this blasted blindfold too tight. Before I knew it, I’d bumped into someone, and his arms came around my waist to steady me.

My heart hammered in my throat. This was it. This would be my first kiss.

Please don’t be booger-picking Vernon, I prayed to the Maker, and then reached up, trailing my fingers up his chest to find his face. His body froze under my touch and I almost lost my nerve. Was he scared? My fingers slid over the soft fabric until I reached his neck and then paused, afraid to grasp the sides of his face.

His hands were statue-still at my lower back, and I licked my lips to wet them. In the May Day kissing tent, the girls were the ones who made the first move, and you were allowed to back out if you didn’t feel ready.

Is this Nathanial?

Did he want to kiss me or run?

Rumor had it that all the guys peeked and Mrs. Brenna let them tie their blindfolds loosely. That if a guy got a girl he didn’t want to kiss, then it was a chaste peck, similar to one you would give your mother when young. But if he liked you… rumor also had it that it would make your whole world spin.