The wind was blowing, just chill enough to make the wearing of cloaks pleasant. The sun was shining thinly through the clouds; although it was only a couple hours past noon, two moons hung low on the horizon already.
Cole was singing. Where he’d gotten the lute, Josie didn’t know; where he’d been hiding that singing voice, she didn’t know either. And she certainly didn’t know where he’d gotten the lyrics to the song he was crooning.
“Her eyes were sky-blue, her skin porcelain-fair.
Flowed free her magic, natural as her hair.”
Josie had once like to thing things like that. Like “Her magic flowed as free and natural as her hair.”
“Hey!” She thunked Cole in the back with her satchel.
“Hey, I’m no poet.” He turned and winked at her. “But the party needs a bard.”
“Here, give me that.” She took the lute from him and played a few chords.
“Three fair ladies went a-walking, deep in the autumn air.
Three dour lords walked a-side them, deep in the country fair.”
“Dour?” Aerich glowered at Josie, which just made her laugh and sing some more.
“Through the hills and through the valleys, into the worlds beyond,
through the stories and in the mysteries, o’er vale and pond.”
“Oh, come on, Josie. Vale and Pond?” Xenia laughed – but Josie didn’t mind. There was something about the air here. Something about the magic hanging suspended like pollen in the thick autumn air.
Like magic flowing as natural and free as Josie’s hair.
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