Dante Blackwood's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

Scarlet's question hung in the empty room. Are you ready for them to see us together? Dante opened his mouth and found nothing. The old fear closed his throat. He thought of the townsfolk who crossed the street when he passed. He wanted to say yes. But the word would not come. Scarlet watched his silence stretch. Her hand slid off his chest. "You don't have to answer now," she said, but her voice had gone small. That small voice broke something loose in him. He had let silence rule his whole life. Silence had kept his house empty. He would not let it cost him her too. "Come with me," he said. He took her hand and led her out the gate. The wolf rose and followed, her white heart-mark bright. He walked her down the row to the clothing store. Broad windows glowed with neat displays. Dante pushed open the door. The shopkeeper looked up, saw his face, and stiffened. Dante did not look away this time. He pointed to a maroon gown in the front display and the matching suit beside it. "Both," he said. "For a night everyone will see." Scarlet stared at him. "Dante, what are you doing?" "I couldn't say the words." He turned to face her. "So I'll show you instead. I'm taking you to the square. Dressed like this. Where the whole grove eats and talks." His voice shook but held. "Let them look. I want them to know you're mine, and I'm yours." A slow smile broke across her face. She wiped her eyes. "You mean it." "I mean it." He pulled a small box from his coat. He had carried it for days, afraid to open it. Inside sat a ring set with a green stone, threaded through with tiny trees. "I made this for the day I found the courage. This is the day." He slid it onto her finger. "Stay beside me. In front of all of them." The shopkeeper had gone quiet, watching. Dante did not care. Scarlet threw her arms around his neck. The wolf pressed against both their legs, tail thumping the floor. That evening they crossed the square together. Scarlet wore the maroon gown. Dante wore the suit, her hand tucked in his elbow. The wolf walked ahead of them. The crowd around the old fountain fell silent. Faces turned. Some frowned. A mother pulled her child closer. Dante felt every stare land on him like weight. He did not stop. He walked Scarlet to the fountain's edge and stood tall in the center of the light. "This is Scarlet," he said, loud enough to carry. "She's with me." No one crossed the street. No one could. He had chosen the middle of the square. The silence held for a long moment. Then, near the back, someone began to clap. It was not everyone. But it was a start, and Dante had made it in front of them all.