They made their way through the crowd to Frank's station. Up close, Jane could see the fish better: large silver things with pink flesh that flaked apart at the touch of Frank's spatula. She noticed with a small thrill of pride that he was serving them in fragments of keln, the flatbread folded around the hot fish with practiced ease.

  "My own keln?" she asked.

  Frank grinned. "Who else's? That’s why I bought extra yesterday and kept them wrapped. They’re perfect for this." He assembled two portions and handed them over. "Eat. Tell me what you think."

  The fish was extraordinary. The flesh was delicate and sweet, with none of the stronger flavors Jane associated with the varieties more common in the capital. The keln complemented it perfectly, soft enough to fold around the filling but sturdy enough to hold together.

  "This is amazing,” she told Frank.

  "It's all in the timing," he replied. "Catch, clean, cook. No waiting. That’s the trick.”

  The other fishermen were doing similar work at their stations, each with their own style. Some used different seasonings, some different methods. One man was grilling his fish on skewers over an open flame, while another was wrapping fish in leaves before burying them in the coals. The variety was impressive. The crowd moved between stations, sampling and comparing with the cheerful competitiveness of friendly neighbors.

  "Do you do this every year?" Jane asked Frank.

  "Every year since I was old enough to hold a fishing pole. My father did it before me. It's tradition."

  Jane thought about that as she finished her meal. Magic could do tremendous things. It could reshape reality itself. But it couldn't make a fish taste this good. Furthermore, all the traditions it cultivated were shared among a very small amount of very serious scholars.

  For all magic could do, it she had never seen it create the warmth of community.

  Thanking Frank heartily, they set off again. Allen took Jane’s hand, and they walked along the waterfront, watching the boats and the people.

  "Happy?" he asked, squeezing her fingers.

  "Very." She leaned into his shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “How pretty am I?” She almost stuttered getting the words out. “Sorry. I just saw myself a little differently in the mirror today. I’ve always thought of myself as plain, but Bella says no, and I have to admit I look very different in these clothes.”

  Allen stopped and turned to face her.

  “There’s nothing for it but the truth. You are the prettiest girl I know. New dress or not, you are the very prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Ask anyone, Jane.” Leaning down, he gave her forehead a quick kiss. Then he turned and continued walking, his hand tightening slightly around hers. “Just don’t listen to all the men. Some of them are pretty smooth talkers.”

  —

  The afternoon sun hung warm over Glenfall as Jane and Allen wandered together. The character of the festival had begun to shift around them. Even streets they had already explored looked new. Some of the tables that had been laden with breakfast foods that morning were now empty, their owners having packed up and joined the crowds of wanderers themselves. New tables were going up everywhere. Other tables had transformed entirely, the morning's bread and cheese replaced by heartier fare.

  "Do some people actually stay out all day?" Jane asked, watching an elderly woman arrange a fresh batch of pastries on her table. "It seems like a lot of work."

  "Some do. Others take shifts with family members." Allen accepted a small cup of something warm and spiced from a passing neighbor and sipped it appreciatively. "I've always wondered about the ones who stay the whole time. Whether they do it because someone has to, or because they actually prefer it to walking around."

  "Maybe both," Jane said. "I think I'd like running a table, actually. Seeing everyone come by, watching them enjoy what I made."

  "You already do that every day."

  "That's different. That's business. This is..." She gestured at the festive chaos around them. "This is something else."

  They had just turned down a street lined with fabric merchants' homes when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

  "There you are!" Bella emerged from between two tables, Brit trailing behind her like a large, slightly bewildered shadow. "I've been looking everywhere for you two."

  "She hasn't been looking that hard," Brit said. "Just glances in between bites of food."

  Bella's elbow found his ribs with practiced accuracy. "Hush. I was looking just fine." She turned back to Jane and Allen. "Mind if we join you? We've been wandering on our own all morning, and I'm getting tired of Brit's conversation."

  "Hey!"

  "It’s been fun, but you've told me about the new bellows three times now."

  "They are really good bellows," Allen said. “I couldn’t have made better, unless —”

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  "Don’t get started." Bella frowned. "Jane, please. Save me from hearing about it a fourth time."

  Jane tried to help by changing the subject. "Of course you can join us. We'd love the company."

  The four of them fell into step together. Like the festival itself, Jane found the tone of the day shifting pleasantly. The morning had been intimate: a chance to walk with Allen, learning about the town and each other. This was more boisterous. Bella had opinions about everything they passed. Brit argued with her about half of them, and this seemed to delight her much more than agreement could have. Allen relaxed in a different way than before, trading jokes with Brit and teasing Bella about her appetite.

  It’s not a date anymore, but it’s still good. Just a different kind of good.

  They found a low stone wall near one of the smaller parks, in view of the docks, and sat on it in a row to watch the festival flow past. Children ran by in literal packs, their faces smeared with various sweet treats and their bloodstreams pumping with unexpectedly high levels of sugar.

  Jane found herself watching the couples in particular. Some of them seemed at home together, but most seemed as awkward as she imagined she and Allen must look. Neither situation appeared to blunt the enjoyment of the people involved. The awkward couples flushed, and the comfortable couples walked a bit closer together, but all were excited to be there.

  "Jane! Bella!"

  The call came from across the park, where Emily was waving enthusiastically and navigating through the crowd. She was not alone. A young man followed in her wake, looking simultaneously terrified and delighted.

  "I found you!" Emily exclaimed, arriving slightly breathless. "I've been looking all afternoon. This is Trevor. Trevor, this is everyone."

  Trevor managed a weak wave. He was tall and thin, with a face so earnest that Jane almost felt bad for him. At the moment, he appeared to be taking his position as Emily's date very seriously, but Jane suspected that would be true for anything he chose to undertake. He had that look about him.

  "Nice to meet you, Trevor," she said. "How do you know Emily?"

  "He comes to the library. I caught him there." Emily patted his arm. "He's been researching experimental water management systems. Very interesting stuff. I told him he had to come to the festival with me, and he said yes."

  They made room on the wall, shuffling together until everyone had a seat. Jane got squeezed between Allen and Bella, warm on both sides and thoroughly content.

  "Has anyone seen Sadie?" she asked after a while. "I thought she might find us, too."

  "She was with her date earlier," Emily said. "Some merchant's son. He seemed all right, but we didn’t really talk."

  As if summoned by the mention of her name, Sadie appeared at the edge of the park, scanning the crowd until she spotted their group. She hurried over and wedged herself into a spot at the end of the wall.

  "There you all are. I've been wandering in circles for an hour."

  "Where's your merchant's son?" Bella asked. “Emily promised us you had one.”

  "Emergency business." Sadie rolled her eyes, but there was no real frustration in her tone. "His mother ran out of ingredients for her cooking station. Some weird spice, and apparently only he knew where to get more. He promised to find me after the fireworks."

  Bella nodded. "I’ve always heard you can tell how a man will treat you by how he treats his mother. So I guess it’s a good sign?”

  "To be fair," Allen said, "my mother once made me leave in the middle of a job to bring her a specific type of onion. She was very insistent. That’s not really one of those things you can disobey, anyway."

  They continued to have a good time, watching as people’s walking pace slowed and the energy of the day began to calm. Eventually, as the sun began its descent toward the mountains beyond the lake, Frank's voice boomed across the crowd at them.

  "Jane! Allen! Over here!"

  He was standing near his boat, waving them back toward the docks. Beside him stood a small woman Jane hadn't seen before. She had the weathered look of someone who had spent many years near water. The woman waved at them companionably, but made no move to speak.

  "That's Deborah," Allen said quietly. "Frank's wife. She doesn't talk much, but she's nice. Once you get to know her, she tends to get louder."

  Waving back at the couple, Jane remembered their earlier conversation with the fisherman. "Frank said they're taking the boat out on the lake. For the fireworks."

  "Best view in town." Bella was already standing. "Come on, everyone. Let's see if there's room."

  There was room, though only just. Frank's boat was not meant to carry seven young people in addition to its owners, but somehow, they all fit.

  Jane found herself leaning against the railing near the bow, Allen pressed close beside her out of necessity as much as choice. The boat rocked gently as Frank pushed them away from the dock and began working the sail, his movements practiced and sure.

  "Everyone comfortable?" he called back.

  "Comfortable enough," Brit answered, his arm around Bella's waist to steady them both. "Just don't hit any big waves."

  "There are no big waves on the lake today,” Frank replied. “You'll be fine."

  The boat slid out across the water, joining a growing fleet of vessels all headed toward the center of the lake. Jane had seen the boats during the day, festooned with pennants and packed with families, but this was different. Their lanterns were beginning to glow as the sky darkened overhead, dotting the lake with a hundred points of light.

  "It's beautiful," she murmured.

  "Wait until the fireworks start," Allen said. "You haven't seen anything yet."

  Jane leaned back against Allen's chest, feeling his arms wrap around her waist. The day had been long and full and wonderful, and she realized she was exactly where she wanted to be.

  The fireworks began without warning. A single rocket screamed up from somewhere on the far shore before exploding into a cascade of golden light.

  Jane felt herself gasp, the sound of it lost in the collective intake of breath from everyone around her. She had seen fireworks before, of course. The capital had them for the king's birthday and for the harvest festival, great elaborate displays that lasted half an hour or more. But those had always been viewed from a distance, from balconies or crowded streets, with buildings blocking half the sky.

  Here, there was nothing between her and the spectacle. The second rocket went up, then the third, and soon the sky was alive with color. Reds and greens and blues burst overhead, one after the other, reflecting across the lake's surface so that it seemed the fireworks were exploding both above and below.

  Nobody spoke. Jane was dimly aware of the others: of Bella's hand finding Brit's in the darkness, of Sadie gripping the rail to lean out over the water, of Emily resting her head on Trevor's shoulder, of Frank and Deborah standing together at the tiller with the easy closeness of a decades-old relationship. But mostly, she was aware of Allen's arms around her waist and his chin resting on the top of her head.

  This is what I came here for, she thought. Not the fireworks specifically. But this. Being part of something. Being held by someone. Watching something beautiful with people I care about.

  A particularly large burst illuminated the entire sky, white and gold cascading down in streams that seemed to take forever to fade. Jane felt Allen's arms tighten around her, just slightly, and she pressed back against him in response.

  The display went on for perhaps twenty minutes, though it felt both longer and shorter than that. When the final rocket went up — a massive thing that exploded into a flower of purple and silver before fragmenting into a hundred smaller, colorful blooms — Jane found her eyes were wet. She wasn't sure when that had happened.

  The silence held for a long moment after the last sparks faded from the sky. Then, slowly, the sounds of the festival began to filter back. Cheering came from the shore, followed by the splash of oars as boats began to turn toward home.

  "Well," Frank said quietly, breaking the spell that had held their little group. "That was a good one."

  .

  !