As she lowered her arms and sank down to gaze at the watch fire, Melanie became aware of him. He sat quietly a few feet away. The firelight cast a play of shadows over his face. He smiled when he noticed her looking at him. She was surprised to see him there, but pleased.
“Goin’ t’sing a bit more?” he asked softly.
She shook her head slowly. The hood still hid her face, and, truthfully, she should return to the encampment. The others would be returning soon, but no one would disturb her for this communion time was her own. They had two nights to prepare themselves, and this was only the first step. She sat slowly, pulling her legs beneath the cloak letting it shroud her. The fire was behind her allowing the shadows to play in her favor.
"Wha’ was th’song?”
“There were many,” she murmured.
“Wha’ were ye singin’ just now—th’oak one?”
“It’s a song for the sun king—he is born with the coming of Yule and the passing of the Winter Solstice, but he sacrifices himself with the coming of the summer to allow himself to be reborn.” She smiled a bit. “It’s the willingness of his sacrifice that allows the land to bear fruit—for the Lady to birth him again so the cycle might continue.”
“Does nae seem like much o’a fate for a king.”
“I suppose. But if he does not make the sacrifice—then he cannot be reborn, and the cycle will be broken.” She should withdraw. She’d already indulged this conversation too far. But he remained still, watching her with a quiet expression. “You should not be up here.”
“Nay?”
“No.”
“Well—ye are here.”
“Aye. But…well…”
“Ye do nae want t’talk t’me?”
“It’s not that.” Melanie reassured him quickly, despite the fluttering sensation in her belly because now she was treading on even more dangerous ground. The maidens were representatives of the Goddess, not themselves. She was not representing the Goddess in this conversation, and she was of a mind to think he wasn’t seeking one when he came up here.
“So ye do want t’talk to me…" He grinned.
“But, I’m not supposed to,” she whispered.
“Why nae?”
She shook her head. “It’s improper. I should go.”
“Doona—” He moved lightly toward her, and she rose to take a step back, holding out her hand to warn him away. “Why do ye ’ave t’go?”
“You really don’t understand—do you?”
“I am nae going t’harm ye, lass. I give ye my word.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of that.” She smiled. “It’s just—” She looked away from him toward the camps below. They would start wondering soon and protocol or not, likely someone would come up.
“They do nae want ye talking to us?” he asked quietly from a position much closer to her than she’d imagined he would be. He’d come right up to her on quiet feet. Her skin tingled at the nearness.
“It’s improper,” she said softly. She should really move away, but her feet remained firmly planted like lead weights, and she turned her head to look at him.