Page 107 of The Mercy of Dawn

Runa laughed, and Cyril offered him a tight smile.

He was still bottom of the list of people she wanted to spend time with. They'd kept a safe distance from each other these last three days, and for that, Cyril was fucking grateful, especially because she knew she'd be stuck with him all night.

“Easy with the compliments. I’m still sober,” she grumbled.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll remedy that soon,” Runa chuckled as she linked arms with Cyril, motioning for Dion to take her other side, and led them out of the residential wing.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, Cyril had caught glimmers of the preparations being made for the celebrations out on the back lawns. Tables and chairs being hauled out from gods only know where, platters and linens and even damn pillows being carted out in wooden crates. But nothing quite compared to seeing it all as the sun went down, in the full swing of festivities.

Truthfully? It teetered on overwhelming.

Cyril’s eyes couldn’t settle on a single damn thing for more than a second or two as Runa tugged her and Dion down a sweeping pathway dotted with bobbing fae lights. Staff and revelers darted past them in every direction, with most of the commotion congregating around long tables adorned with flowers and food.

Cyril’s stomach started growling the moment the scent of warmed spices and grilled meat hit her nose.

In the balmy, summer air laced with those wholly delicious smells, came joyous noise too. From raucous laughter and shouting, to whistling and cheering for who knew what. The upbeat notes of a fiddle even carried through it all, though Cyril didn’t have the faintest idea where it came from.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Dion asked, his fond smile a startling thing to see.

“The people…” she breathed.

Decor and pageantry aside, it wasn’t just a party for the palace residents.

The revelers were dressed in garbs of all varieties, from fine silk dresses with jewels to uniforms to threadbare tunics that spoke to humble means, and they all mingled with each other. Passing around platters of food between one another, hugging and laughing, pouring potations and clinking glasses.

It made her heart ache a bit to see the revelry like that.

Solstice was something they did well in Helia, and it reminded her of it so damn much. It was hard to believe she hadn’t been home in over a month.

“Now, before I let the two of you loose…”

With a jarring tug, Runa brought Cyril and Dion over to one of the myriad of tables holding nothing but bottles upon bottles of spirits.

“This is a bit of a solstice tradition”—she picked up a narrow bottle with opalescent glass, uncorked it, and poured three short glasses of the clear liquid within—“that I know Dion is well acquainted with. Lockmead.”

Cyril took her glass for a cursory sniff, and it fucking burned.

Dion had the nerve to laugh at the wary look she gave him and the queen.

“Trust me, it tastes better than it smells. And I know it seems curious to have a drink made of something toxic to us, but there is just enough of a hint of faelock to make you feel good.” Runa’s smile was all pure amusement. “Just don’t overdo it. You’ll have a hell of a night tonight, but you’ll be certain you’ve landed in one of the actual hells tomorrow. Dion can attest to that, I’m sure.”

“I can,” Dion sighed. He shook his head like he just remembered something he seriously wanted to forget, and Cyril couldn’t help but laugh.

Runa laughed before she raised her glass and said, “Happy solstice, you two.”

A clink of three glasses, and Cyril followed the queen’s lead on shooting back her lockmead in one go. Somehow, it was bitter and sweet, and went down like roughed-up silk.

“That’s…” Cyril looked down at her empty glass.

“Dangerous?” Runa chuckled.

Dangerous put it lightly.

She was still looking down at her glass, processing what in the hells she just drank, when Runa added, “I should find my husband before he ends up in the lake or with a weapon. Make sure you both eat and drink your fill, and enjoy yourselves.”

Cyril didn’t even have a chance to ask if those were circumstances Lars often ended up in on the solstice before Runa was hugging and kissing both her and Dion. She vanished into the crowd after saying something to Dion that left him shaking his head.

“Food?” he asked Cyril, and he’d never suggested a better thing.