The winter solstice was the shortest day of the year.
That was why Onya's people used to spend it celebrating and, to keep warm, drinking gallons of alcohol. Onya had no particular opinion on the celebration, but participated in it every year, by tradition.
Legend also had it that the stars always remained in the sky, even when the deimeika rose in the sky. Children were taught that you could make three wishes that day. Only three, no more, or else the gods would be offended and beware of the anger that would fall on them. Onya didn't really believe in it. Wishes were for children, and old lady who had seen too much to believe in anything else.
Night had already fallen when Onya found herself in the square of the Polis tower, Tris by her side. The girl seemed to be struggling with her own hair, but Onya couldn't really help her. A bonfire was being lit, the kitchen staff setting up tables and food to one side. During the day, the warriors had organized tournaments, Onya had asserted her place of Wormana once again.
"Oh, there you are! I've been looking for you guys for ages!"
Natshana had just appeared next to them, dressed all in white. It gave her appearance a strangeness, as if she weren't real. Her hair was styled like the women of Onya's people, and Onya felt her stomach knot at the sight of this.
Mistaking her insistent gaze, Kassi rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, okay, you can say it. Go on, I wanna hear it," she said, spreading her arms.
Onya swallowed, nearly choking on her own saliva.
"What?"
"Yeah, yeah, I look ridiculous, I know. But, you know, people keep calling me Natshanagada, so the least I can do is own it."
"I wasn't... I wasn't going to say that," Onya muttered.
Skaifaya frowned, surprised to see her stuttering. That was the moment that Tris chose to let out a gasp of frustration, and Kassi's gaze strayed to the girl.
"You good, kid?"
Tris didn't even bother to answer, gesturing at the mass of brown hair she couldn't manage to tame. Kassi cracked a smile.
"Hair emergency?"
"Yes," Tris grumbled.
Kassi burst out laughing, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Come on, kid, let me help."
She led them to a rocky mound, sat down on it, and settled Tris between her legs, cracking her knuckles before tackling her mass of hair.
"Don't worry, kid. Mama ain't raised no fool, we both had the same hair, her and I. There's nothing I can't do."
And Tris stood perfectly still as Kassi ran her hands through her strands of hair, untying knots and separating them before beginning to braid them with almost religious concentration.
She looked older as well, wiser and alert, calm and serene.
And Onya found herself making her first wish: that Natshangada's daughter be returned to her.
The party was in full swing, from the drunk revelers singing out of tune, to the warriors who had decided to engage in an arm wrestling tournament. Leksa sat on the other side of the campfire, Titus still standing behind her. To others, he looked like he was there to protect her, but Onya knew she was the one protecting him, and that he was only there to restrain her, and not in a good way.
A unit of warriors had just arrived, dismounting from their horses to pay their respects to Heda. Onya followed them with her gaze, recognizing Tristan's shaven head and dark, drooling war paint. She immediately felt all her good humor leave her, turning cold and bitter, as Tristan and his men bowed to Heda, before joining the celebrations.
A servant passed her, a tray laden with cups of alcohol, and Kassi reached out to take two of them, smiling at her in appreciation. Onya immediately took a cup from her, downing it in one gulp before handing it back to her, and taking the second drink, which she downed just as quickly.
"Hey! That was mine!"
Onya shook her head.
"There is no way I am letting you get drunk. You're crazy enough."
"Jokes on you, I've been drinking with Oxana since six."
Onya gave her a confused look.
"How are you still standing?" she asked, giving her a flick on the forehead.
"I'm a big girl, I can hide it well," Natshana replied with a laugh, swating her hand away.
"Ooor... Maybe you're just naturally a drunk person," Onya offered.
"Oh, shut up!" Kassi replied, toying absently with the empty glass Onya had given her.
She clapped her hands lightly, lifting and lowering the glass rhythmically, forming a melody that Onya had heard her hum before. Onya, who was watching her hands, frowned. An iron ring encrusted with a symbol: three intersecting circular arcs.
"Where the Hell did you get that?" Onya hoisted, grabbing her hand.
"Oxana gave it to me. She said it would keep mean people away from me," Kassi replied, frowning. "What is it?"
"It's... The symbol of my people. Of Trikru. With this, you're basically saying that you belong to someone of my clan."
Maybe it was the alcohol, but Onya felt her cheeks heat up furiously, and she found herself wondering if Kassi noticed.
"Damnit," Kassi grumbled, pulling the ring off and shoving it into Onya's hands. "That bitch set me up. I'm sure she thought well, but fuck, she needs to stop obsessing over us."
"What?" Onya muttered, feeling the panic overtaking her. "What do you mean?"
Kassi gave her a funny look, between pity and confusion.
"Oh, honey. She's been trying to get us together for months now. She practically convinced everyone in the fighting group to join her to tease me. Everyday! It's unbearable! This," she said, holding up Onya's hand which contained the ring , "is just another one of her tricks. Bet you a drink that she wanted people to think I belonged to you."
That heat in her face definitely wasn't the alcohol. Onya wanted to disappear, dig a hole and bury herself there. She would find a shovel somewhere, build one if necessary, out of sticks, and bury herself alive.
Kassi, who didn't seem to have the same embarrassment, contented herself with giving a "middle finger" to Oksana, who remained by the food tables. The young woman gave her a questioning look, pretending not to understand what she wanted from her.
Suddenly, musicians began to play, and Kassi sat up in her seat as if a needle had been stuck in her back.
"Wait, I know this song!"
She jumped to her feet, put her empty glass on her seat, and held out her hands to Onya, who couldn't help but give a hint of a smile.
"No, you dance, I'll just watch."
Kassi shrugged, turning to Tris who didn't even wait for Onya's agreement to grab Natshana's outstretched hands, running to join the few dancers.
A smile on her lips, Onya watched them begin to dance, Kassi guiding the little girl who seemed almost to levitate with excitement. Music took over the square, echoing happily through the night as the dancers twirled.
Kassi multiplied the amused and enthusiastic mimicry, making Tris laugh, who tried to imitate her movements awkwardly. Most of the women in the combat group had rushed in their turn, without exchanging a single glance, as if they did not know each other. Kassi and Tris hopped from foot to foot, Tris tangling her legs in Skaifaya's white skirt, as Natshana flitted around the fire like she'd been doing it her whole life.
The orange light cast a golden color to her hair and pale skin, while Kassi swayed her hips, hands on her waist. Even warriors, carried by the euphoria, had started toclap their hands in rhythm, and the dancers all spin on top of each other.
A flash of white stained the decor of the festivities.
And Onya found herself making her second wish.
May the rest of her life always be like this.
The bubble burst as quickly as it had formed.
Onya's gaze drifted to where Tristan was sitting, and she felt her blood run cold. His eyes followed Natshana's figure as it swirled through the crowd, impossible to miss in its strangeness. Onya had no doubt: he knew she was not one of them. She smiled too much, laughed too hard, her body seemed too big for her when she walked, as if she had never had one before coming down from the sky.
She was already dead.
Anxiously, Onya motioned for Kassi to join her, and the young woman approached with a confused smile.
"Pretend to talk to me," Onya ordered, gesturing to the seat next to her.
Kassi sat down, leaning to the side to listen to her, a fake smile on her face.
"Do you see that man over there? To the left of Leksa, third from her seat."
"Yeah?"
"It's Tristan. He's another Wormana, and he hates Skai people. He kills those who come down for fun. He killed his first when he was eleven, and he loved it."
Kassi continued to look around, deliberately ignoring Tristan's murderous gaze fixed on her.
"You are his next prey," Onya pressed her, feeling panic overwhelm her.
"Yeah...I wouldn't be so sure."
Onya glanced in the direction she was looking.
Oksana stared at Tristan and played quietly with a kitchen knife on the surface of the table. Beside her, Viktoria was twirling a dagger, Yelena and Masha were talking peacefully, hands on the palms of their swords, and Solveig was beating all the warriors at arm wrestling.
And Leksa, Leksa herself watched Tristan in silence, her sword in her lap.
Onya wasn't the only one willing to fight for Kassi.
But, of course, things didn't go so easily.
Tristan turned to one of his men, whispering something to him, and soon the whole group was staring at Kassi who finally seemed to have realized the gravity of the situation.
"Fuck," she swore. "Where did you put that ring?
"I gave it back to Oksana."
"Why would you do that?!" Kassi hissed.
"You weren't supposed to need it!" Onya whispered in the same tone.
One of Tristan's men had just stood up, seeming to want to walk towards them.
"Well, as we say in French; 'Aux grands mots, les grands remèdes'. Desperate times call for desperate measures."
And she swung her leg across Onya's, pulling herself onto her lap, her back to the warriors and one knee on either side of her thighs.
Onya choked on her own saliva for good, as Kassi undid her hair to cover both of their faces.
"What are you doing?!" She hissed, her voice rising to high pitches in panic.
"Shhh," Kassi replied, putting a finger to her lips. "Play along. What would Natasha Romanoff do, mh? 'Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.' Apparently people keep thinking I'm your plaything, so why not use that?"
"What-"
"Besides, the booze just kicked in and I have no other idea."
And she let her forehead drop on Onya's shoulder, her hair brushing her neck. Placing her hands on her lower back, Onya glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Tristant's man turning around, and the rest of the warriors avoiding looking in their direction.
Kassi was warm against the cold of the night, as her hand played with Onya's hair, her breath on her collarbone. Onya could feel every hair of her body standing up on her skin, her stomach wasn't just knotting, it was jumping, dancing and fighting against her heart, which was doing a pretty good job of defending itself, judging by the way it was beating against her rib cage.
Onya tried to calm herself down by taking a deep breath. Bad idea. Her head filled with the scent of Skaifaya, a mixture of damp earth, rain, dust and the lavender oil she put in her hair. She was dizzy and wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but she knew that wasn't the case.
Kassi's fingernails scraped against the crook of her neck, and Onya couldn't take it anymore.
As gently as she could, which is to say not very much, she pushed Natshana back, forcing her back into the seat next to her, avoided her confused gaze and literally ran away, disappearing into the night.
And she made her last wish.
She wished to forget this damned woman forever.