“You were going to tell me the night before?”
“Pan,” he says sternly, finally meeting my gaze. “I didn’t want you to be stressed days ahead of time.”
My agitation rises swiftly. “Oh, that’s nice, Sitri. Very gracious of you. Always so courteous, keeping me totally informed…on everything,” I snap. “What do these festivities consist of?” The swinging door clatters, and Vera busts back into the kitchen.
“Tonight there’s the Rite…and tomorrow is Beltane. We’ll just be making an appearance, and then—“
“You’re taking her to the Rite?” Vera blurts out, pointing in my direction. Quite frankly, she looks appalled.
He hurls a sharp look in Vera’s direction. “I don’t have a choice,” Sitri says through clenched teeth.
“Are you going to be there?” I ask, hopefully.
Vera’s face turns a bright shade of red. “Oh—oh, no, that’s not really my style.”
“What do you mean?” Vera opens her mouth and abruptly closes it. I catch the tail end of another withering look from Sitri. A fuzzy memory stirs. “Wait…is this the fertility rite?”
Sitri lets out an audible exhale, clasping the bridge of his nose and I kick at the leg of his stool. “Yes,” he says curtly.
“Isn’t that where they said you’re going to choose a second wife?” I drop my voice, the words like acid on my tongue.
“That’s not happening,” he says firmly.
“Well, I definitely don’t want to go…to that!”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have a choice.”
“Can’t you…say, I’m sick or something?”
“I already tried to get you out of it. We have to be there. Both of us. We’re only going to make an appearance. It’ll be half an hour tops.”
“Sitri…” I plead.
“I’m sorry.”
“What am I even supposed to wear?”
Sitri grimaces. I look to Vera but she quickly turns and busies herself at the stove.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He sighs again, turning to face me with a somber expression. “It’s a sky-clad ritual.”
I give him a blank look.Sky…clad. Clad with the…sky.“Tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”
“It…likely does.”
My heart drops.“Unclothed?”
His silence is all the answer I need. I jump out of the stool, vigorously shaking my head. “No. Nononono—you’re mad if you think I’m going to that!”
“Pan, we have to.” He must see my panic closing in because he raises a hand. “It’s going to be fine,” he says adamantly.
“Oh, yeah. Because the last event went totally completely fine. And I at least got to wear clothes to that one,” I hiss.
His eyes soften. “I swear, it’s not going to be like that. We’re going to make an appearance, and then we’re going to leave.”
A naked appearance? Oh, oh, no. I continue shaking my head, the sounds of my boot falls echoing against the tile as I pace. “You guys really do that? Go and dance naked in the woods? I thought that was made up.Witches,” I huff. “No, Sitri. No. I’m not going. You can go, and I—“
