Book 10: Wedding Night

Aviva

Ryan moves like a large, lumbering animal, but I knew that. He’s not light on his feet whatsoever, but I can’t fault him for not knowing any of the steps to numerous dances passed down from generation to generation as I tug him around the fire, spinning in dizzying circles while my right hand throbs as it heals from being sliced open and slapped against his, our blood mingling. 

It was, admittedly, a very odd sensation I still can’t put into words. Even now, two hours later, my hand feels all tingly, and those tingles have worked their way up my arm and deep into my chest, blooming into something new, heavy, and strange. 

I’ve never danced so much in my life, but eventually Ryan and I were parted by other celebrators who joined the dancing. I lost him in the crowd an hour ago, but maybe that’s for the best. I need this veil of delusion to lift so I can think clearly and come to terms with what has to happen next. 

I look