It might’ve been the warm, summer night air, or the infectious spirit of Kestrel’s Twin Moons Festival, but, more likely, Lana had just had a little too much sweetwine on an empty stomach. Whatever the case, the man whose name she barely knew—Kiernan? Kanan? No, Karnan. Yes, that was right. Karnan Vica—looked as handsome as a nobleman in what was probably his finest coat and trousers.

They held hands, running through the grass to the north of the city, the sounds of merrymaking fading away behind them. In the distance, Lostwood stood like a wall of wood and foliage, but Lana wasn’t worried about the forest right now. Instead, she stopped suddenly, feeling bold, eager, and more than a little frisky, rising onto her tiptoes to peck Karnan on the lips.

He froze, and she did too, both of them rather shocked by the turn of events. And then she laughed and broke away from him, running faster, daring him to pursue her. Apparently he was one for the hunt, giving chase, stumbling twice over his own wine-clumsied feet. She slowed as the shadow of the forest drew closer and closer, and then, winded, sank into the long grass.

Kernan caught up, breathing heavily, a sloppy smile on his lips. “I’ve never met a woman quite like you. Beautiful. Unpredictable. Wild.”

His words were music lovelier than that of the street musicians to Lana’s ears, and she allowed herself to bask in them for a moment before reaching out and grasping his hand, pulling him down to her. The long grass folded itself into a soft mattress under their combined weight. “Kiss me,” she said.

He did, rather clumsily by sober standards, but which to her was the greatest kiss of her life. They carried on like that for a while, their passion growing, until Lana murmured, “Wait,” against his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’ be. But we shouldn’t go further until we’re wed. I won’ have the Forger cursin’ our union ’fore it’s official.”

“I’ll marry ye tomorrow.”

She laughed, the most genuine sound she’d ever made. “We must inform our families. My parents want me to marry another Crimean, but I’m sure they’ll come around. Still, there’ll be preparations to make. Least we’re both from Last Dawn, though I still can’t believe we never met before. Where do ye live? Do ye have a cottage?”

“Aye, it’s not much, but—”

“I’m sure it’s lovely. Oh gods, isn’t this excitin’?”

Kernan nodded, cheeks ruddy.

“Now, if ye’ll escort me back to the tavern, I must git me beauty sleep. I won’ have ye marryin’ an ugly bride.”

“Ye couldn’t be ugly if ye wanted to,” Kernan said. It was very much the right thing to say, and Lana beamed from ear to ear.