Chapter 40. At Halden

SAELYNA

Fareedah wraps a shawl around my hair and stands back to admire her work. Her black eyes lit up with admiration.

“You look fabulous,” she says, clapping her hands.

I pull at the robe and then the shawl. I don’t entirely feel comfortable in these.

“Are they really necessary? I mean, it looks a little…too much.” Too restrictive, too celebratory.

Fareedah waves a hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s what they wear at the festival, innit?” she says, wrapping a shawl around her neck.

I don’t correct her, because that’s what they wear. I just go with a shirt and trousers and sometimes, Cyran’s coat.

I look around the place as we step outside my hut.

“What?” she whispers.

“Where’s Cyran?” I ask.

“Off with the boys, I ‘spect. On nights like this, they drink always and sing those damned songs till sunrise.”

I prick my ears, straining for the sound of music, but I hear none. “I’m…I’m worried, I should