A Dark and Deadly Beauty

The Singer from the North

The walk had been much longer than she expected, and by the time Beck had led her to the narrow yellow door of the Dancing Crow, she swore she could feel every crevice in the cobblestones beneath the sole of her thin felt slippers, beautifully beaded and utterly useless. While she was cursing herself for not pulling on her thick leather boots, with their scuffed toes and plush fur lining, the rest of the walk had been really quite peaceful.

Beck walked at her side, his fingers playfully brushing against Electra’s chapped knuckles. Each touch of their hands sent warmth spreading up Electra’s arm, a memory of the promise Beck had made in those lust-filled moments beside the forest. He had offered food and entertainment, part of her desperately hoped that by the time the sun rose tomorrow, she would wake sprawled and sated tucked beneath his arm.

The air with crisp and frosty, and though the sky was clear and the white light of an ethereal half-moon illuminated the darkened streets, the dense chill around them promised that soon, there would be snow. Warm light peeked through cracks in shutters, homes warmed by firelight where families gathered around the table to break bread with one another. Music floated on the mild breeze, fiddles and lutes and lively voices seeping out into the world from the houses and bars and dance halls where they played.

Despite the cold of winter, despite the attack, despite the fear and uncertainty and violence that was squeezing in through the fringes of their realm…the Capitol seemed so alive.

The pulsing,vibrant, beating heart of the fay folk. A testament to their endurance and courage.

It had been a long time since Electra had been out on the town at night, preferring to drink with her Warfare companions in their guildhall or staying in at Colm’s side. But the vitality of the city was like a balm to her, soothing away the lingering feelings of loneliness and anxiety.

Beck held the door open for her and she had to edge her way through the door frame. As small as she was, she wondered how Beck and those broad shoulders of his would manage. But, he shimmied through like he had done it a hundred times, and soon they were both in a colorful room swirling with pipe smoke and the scent of simmering meat.

This clearly was a tavern that catered to artists and their muses. Electra was so used to the tumbledown holes in her hometown, with their fresh straw covered floors and beeswax candles doing nothing to drown the stench of fish and salt brine that clung to every patrons' clothes as they drank watered down wine and moaned of old fishing injuries. And the bars that the warriors frequented were hardly better, their bar tops scarred with the marks of a hundred knives being drunkenly sunk into the soft wood and the broken stools from previous liquor-induced brawls piled in the corner to be used for kindling.

But the Dancing Crow…she was something else.

Iron chandeliers dripping with amber beads and fat, white candles hung from the low ceiling. The chairs and stools were covered with goldenrod colored cushions, a welcoming sight to Electra’s sore feet. The bar was polished and the glassware was clean and gleaming. The walls were covered in titles of every shade of green- jade and emerald, sage and ivy- only a finger length wide and glassy in the cans light. Electra felt like she had fallen into a chest of pirate’s treasure, and felt a smile spread across her face as Beck steered her toward an empty table.

The moment they were seated, a smiling woman with wide hips and a round face sauntered up to their table.

“A pleasure to see you tonight, Mr. Reed. It sure seems like it’s been ages since you last came,” the plump, jolly woman greeted Beck in her thick northern accent. She must be from the mountains, Electra thought.

“Aye, Lettie,” Beck sighed. “A valet’s work is never done. But when I heard about your entertainment tonight, I had to bring my friend here to see for herself.”

“Welcome, Miss. Do you fancy ale or wine?”

“Ale for me,” Electra answered. Beck ordered the same.

“Will you be having supper as well?”

“What’s on the menu tonight Lettie?”

“We have a stew with mustard greens and barley for half a shilling, salted pork slices and some goat’s cheese with rye bread for a whole shilling, or fried rabbit for two. That comes with potatoes.”

One glance at the table beside her showed Electra two bowls of greasy, green mush that somehow looked both soupy and stringy. Beck had warned her that the soup was questionable…and he had been dead honest.

Before Beck could open his mouth, Electra answered for them both. “Two platters of pork, cheese and bread, please.”

Lettie dipped her head and marched toward the kitchen to prepare their food, a glimpse of a lion's tail flicking out from underneath her skirts.

“Good call,” Beck agreed. “Last time I ate the stew here I was green around the gills for two days. I tend to stick with the cheese and bread myself. But the ale is always good. Ah! Speaking of…”

An apple-cheeked boy set two copper mugs of ale on the table and smiled with a gap-toothed grin. “My mam said these were on the house for the royal valet and his pretty lady friend. She’ll be back with your meal soon.”

“Well thank you, young master Edward. And thank Lettie for me as well.” Beck gave the boy an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he scampered off, back toward the kitchen and his mother.

Electra relaxed back into her chair and took a sip from her mug. The ale was indeed good, mildly bitter and delightfully malty, and she savored its taste as it danced on her tongue.

“So,” she said, wiping the ale froth from her lip, “Tell me more about this singer you brought me here to see. Where does she hail from? Have you heard her sing before?”

Beck swallowed his mouthful of ale. “Her name is Adamina, and I’m not sure where she comes from exactly, but if you hear her speak you can pick up a slight northern accent. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was actually related to Lettie, as much as she frequents this tavern. And yes, I’ve heard her before- a handful of times. The first two or three times were pure dumb luck that brought me here when she was performing. After that…well I made a point to show up when she was in town.”

“She must really be exceptional to keep you coming back here.”

“It’s an experience. Don’t worry. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

Lettie bustled back over with their plates, and Electra was relieved to see the food looked decent. As soon as the scent of the fresh rye bread and the tang of pungent cheese hit her nose, her stomach growled - loudly. Beck simply smirked at her and reached for his own slice of salted pork.

Tearing a chunk off her bread, she dipped it into the cheese and popped it into her mouth. It wasn’t the best bread she had ever had, but it was hot and crusty and had been prepared lovingly by a kind woman in a spectacular tavern.

As she chewed, the tension in her shoulders disappeared, and the hollowness in her chest evaporated. Suddenly, it struck Electra why she was so comfortable here, so at ease in this place. With its colorful decor and its accommodating matron…the Dancing Crow reminded Electra of home.

She swallowed down the lump of homesickness that raised in her throat, and focused on filling her hungry stomach with the food before her.

She put a sliver of meat on her tongue and braced against its biting saltiness. It was fine, but needed to be paired with the cheese if it wasn’t going to turn her stomach.

A hush fell over the room as Electra reached for her cheese. From the shadows, through the curling smoke of a dozen pipes, a sinewy shape emerged. All eyes were on Adamina, the tall and spindly woman who everyone had come to hear.

Peppery gray hair hung loose down her back, and her thin frame was draped in simple beige cotton. Electra had pictured a gaudy young temptress, chanting love songs to enamored men with her bosom corseted to her clavicle.

But she was ordinary, unremarkable.

Or so Electra thought as she sipped her ale and watched Adamina pass through the crowd like a glass knife.

But then, the singer opened her mouth and out poured the most pure, most heartbreaking velvet note of silvery song Electra had ever heard.

And in that moment,all thoughts of dinner and of home and of lonesomeness were banished.