Free Solace Shattered by Anna Steffl

eyes and silk wings. Its body curled around the center post. Whether it was from the heat of the fire or the intricate effigy’s passing resemblance to the creature he’d fought in the lake, Degarius’s skin burned as if the sun had baked it deep red. All over again, he was on the lakeshore, tearing off his soaked clothes so the rain could wash away the acidic lake water. He stiffened, fighting the urge to remove his coat until an ooh from the crowd brought him back to the moment. Finally, an ember had ignited a silky wing. The fire spread to the body. On the breeze, thousands of bright burning bits floated aloft. Everyone stood in silence until the last remnant of the draeden was gone, either crumbled into blackened bits or flown away as ash. The king then bellowed, “Spread the word of the saviors’ victory. The draeden is dead!”
    As the celebrants cheered, Degarius wondered if the creature he’d fought in the lake was dead. Or if it had been a draeden. The Solacian said his sword was Assaea. There she was, with the governor, taking their punks to the bonfire so they could light the candles in their boats. It was a bold move, going together, or did they think no one suspected them. But what business was it of his?
    Miss Gallivere handed him a punk, then leaned against his arm. “Let’s take our turn.”
    They lit their candles and took the glowing boats to the river’s edge. Really, it was the sandy edge of the river’s wide estuary where it emptied into the sea. Miss Gallivere, seemingly without taking the time to make the required reflection on what good she’d accomplish this year, knelt and sat her boat afloat. She rose and turned to him. The light of his candle cast a deep shadow in the hollow between her breasts, and he completely forgot the draeden. Suggestively, she swept her tongue over her lips. “Do you know what I pledged to do this year?”
    Why had she spoiled the moment? Degarius wouldn’t guess aloud for a thousand fine warhorses what she’d pledged for this year. The candle’s light symbolized not only Lukis and Paulus’s victory, but also one’s promise to do a good deed to brighten the world so it would never fall into darkness again. The candle-boats were set on currents to spread the light, just as Lukis sent out missionaries to spread the word of the end of the Reckoning. It was why the Lerouge family had the spot closest to the sea. Their boats would be first to find the wider world. Degarius crouched to the water and thought of the coming year. The war with the Gherians would certainly start before the next Feast of the Saviors. He must do all he could for Sarapost. If only the generalship were his and the sword returned. Those were beyond his control, however. What within him was of value? Honor. Perseverance. Courage. Vowing to abide those principles, he crouched and placed the boat in the water. It buffeted, in constant peril of overturning. The river at Ferne Clyffe, though far from the wider world, was a better place to launch a candle-boat. His boats there glided slow, steady and bright on the dark flow.
    “What did you pledge of yourself?” Miss Gallivere asked as he uncrouched.
    “What every soldier must.”
    She arched a brow and brushed her nail over his Valor in Service medal. “Every conquest has its reward. A medal is a cold, hard reward.”
    “Few have ever received that award.”
    “No doubt. But there are engagements where the reward is rarer still.”
    He wanted to question the value of a conquest in which the enemy was as good as surrendering, but a serving boy handed him a plate of food. The boats set afloat, wine and trays of delicacies were going around. He finished a shrimp and grilled pineapple pastry and set aside the plate when the princess called to the musicians to play a lively dance.
    Miss Gallivere, like the other ladies, kicked off her slippers.
    At the thought of what dancing in sand, even in his boots, would do to his feet, Degarius crossed his