Since my Day of Promise, the presence of siblings had become a burden on me, an objectionable annoyance that stretched the troubles of the season. That day, in the bright sun over a snowy blanket of Stone Meadow, I was proud to have my younger brother by my side. He was surefooted and skilled at the game we played, and more so, he was a protection from my fears. I enjoyed the chaos of the match, although I had forgotten the rules and was not good at playing. The game reminded me of how much I loved my brother.
To me, the game involved a dozen villagers chasing after each other within a boundary, trying to protect a banner on a stick. So, that’s what I did. I ran across the snow, laughing and screaming—enjoying the chase—while following Ethan and trying to protect the green band on my arm from the clansmen in red. Every time I evaded one of them, the excitement made me hungry to try again. The feeling was exhilarating.
Despite my brother’s efforts to protect me, a red clansman soon caught me and removed my band, forcing me out of the game. Soon after, someone caught Ethan. He was somber as he followed me away from the boundaries, but his smile told me that he had enjoyed the sport. Warmed by my adventurous pursuits, I stood next to him with my chest heaving and sweat dripping down my forehead. We lost the match, but I enjoyed the distraction.
When the players assembled again and chose teams for another game, Ethan tugged on my sleeve and asked me to join. I politely declined. I needed my energy for the dance. I stood at the side, watching the chaos in the field, until I noticed Nia in the distance. She spoke to a thin stranger wearing a wide brimmed hat and a long black coat. I left my brother to his games and weaved my way through the thick crowd of onlookers to reach her.
She saw me and broke off her conversation with the man. “Rhiannon!” She offered me an embrace. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said, lifting her off the ground. “I’ve missed you. A lot has happened since the cave.”
She smiled as I set her down. “Did you choose the armor for Sean?”
Cael approached from behind her. I nodded, unwilling to discuss my gift in front of him. Nia must have read my eyes, because she turned around to greet him.
“Cael,” she said, “it’s good to greet you again.” She motioned to the skinny man. “I think you know Thomas.”
Cael shook his hand and then slid next to me. “I’ve seen you at Owen Dorsey’s home,” he said to the man. “You’re from DarMattey, aren’t you?”
“Yes, answered Thomas, grimacing. He rubbed his hand when Cael released it. He turned to Nia. “Is he the one you spoke about? Rhiannon’s fiancé?”
Why did he say that? As I tried to block the words he had spoken, embarrassment filled me and warmed my face. Who was this man?
Nia saved me. “No, Thomas. Cael is Sean’s brother. He works for my father.”
Thomas’s face changed from pale white to red. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his brow and bowing. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended,” said Cael.
I stared at Sean’s annoying little brother, wondering if he knew the apology was meant for me. I wanted to speak, but Cael continued.
“What are you doing here?” he said. “I thought the road over Taylor’s Ridge was blocked with snow. I haven’t worked for two days because of it.”
“That’s why he’s here,” answered Nia, smiling with satisfaction. “He was caught in the storm. Thomas is a guest at our home until he can cross the mountain.”
“It’s good to meet you,” I said, offering Thomas a smile. I decided to ignore Cael. “Have you been to a Moon Season Celebration before?”
Thomas shrugged. “No,” he answered quietly. “I’ve heard stories of the summer celebrations.”
“That’s the Sun Season,” I said, correcting him. “Tonight, we’re celebrating the peak of the moon’s blessing. We call it Moon Season.”
“Oh.” Thomas looked nervously at Nia, who patted his hands gently.
The conversation changed from uncomfortable to silent. The four of us stared at each other, waiting for another to speak.
“May I talk to my friend alone?” Nia asked, ending the moment. She turned toward Cael and smiled, before pulling my hand. “Please?” Before either Cael or Thomas could answer, Nia tugged my arm and pulled me away from them. She glanced around me as if to pry away from anyone who eavesdropped, then continued. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you, Rhia,” she said, whispering. “Something is bothering you. Do you have any news from Sean?”
I shook my head and lowered my smile. Carefully and quietly, I told Nia about my night practice and of Cael’s strange offering.
She grabbed me around the waist and hugged me in an embrace. She looked up at me. “Be careful, Rhiannon,” she warned, glancing past me again before continuing. “Cael is childish and sometimes strange, but don’t upset him.”
“Why?” I asked. “He needs to know when he has crossed a boundary. He may be fulfilling a request from Sean, but that doesn’t give him the duty to be rude. I won’t allow it. I shouldn’t have to.”
Nia didn’t let me go. “No, those actions aren’t his duty. Please, listen to me. I’ve seen him get angry while working with my father’s men. He has a temper, Rhiannon.” She looked again. “Don’t give him a reason to get upset.”
Her words confused me. I gripped her arm as a dark thought of revenge enveloped my reasoning. “I could tell the Elders, and allow them to deal with him.”
Nia pulled away. “Don’t talk like that,” she said. “Not everyone in Aisling can be perfect—that’s why we have the Fae.” She paused to stare at me; there was an insult in her tone, but I didn’t know why. “Now you’re acting like a child. He was drunk. Leave it at that. I don’t want to see any trouble caused.”
“Will you talk to him?” I asked. “You seem to enjoy his company.”
“What do you want me to tell him?” Nia gripped my arm and mocked me with my own voice. “Please don’t tell my friend that she’s beautiful, because she’s afraid of hearing such things? The perfect ones are timid, too.”
“You’re teasing me,” I said. Water welled in my eyes, and I fought to keep from crying. “I wanted to tell you. I was hoping you would understand.”
“I understand, Rhiannon. I do.” Nia pulled me closer and whispered. “I also know that a lot is happening right now that you can’t control. For that, I am sorry.” She hugged me again. This time, I felt her warmth and allowed it to pass into me.
While we stood in the snow, embracing in a hug, the bard drums beat three times, signaling the gathering of the Fae. I knew I had to leave, but didn’t want to depart my trusted friend. She could tell me anything and not offend me; we were too close.
“Thank you for listening,” I whispered.
The drums beat three times more.
“Remember what I’ve told you.” Nia drifted into the crowd and disappeared.
Despite the noise and commotion as I walked slowly toward the circle of tall stones, I felt Cael close behind; I didn’t have to hear his breath. When I stopped and turned around, he was no more than a few paces behind me. I glared, wishing he would understand my silent request.
He didn’t move.
“What?” I spoke louder than I had planned. “Do you plan to follow me as I dance? Look around, Cael. I’ll be as safe as anyone here.”
He stared for a moment before turning and quietly walking away.
I gritted my teeth, allowing a small growl to signal my frustration. “Why won’t he leave me alone?” I whispered, not intending anyone to hear.
Three more loud drumbeats pushed me toward the stones. I stepped absently, still caught up in the mix of frustration with Cael and the loneliness at Sean’s absence.
“I miss you, Sean,” I spoke as if the fervor of my words could make him appear before me.
I joined the other women, taking care to conceal my grief while we prepared to begin the dan
ce. When directed, I walked to my place within the circle and stood motionless next to my assigned stone. As I waited for dusk to arrive, I wanted to dry my eyes, but the entire village was watching us. I decided to let the tears exhaust themselves.
Colin gave Madeline his traditional kiss and then carried his long burning torch to the pile of wood next to the Season Stone. We, the twenty-seven Faeries of Aisling, waited for the sun to accept the night’s rule and drop behind the horizon.
“Whoosh!”
As giant flames erupted from the circle center, a surge of heat and pressure pushed me against my monolith. Moon Season had begun.
From the distant trees, loud reverberating drums pounded a slow rhythm across the snow. I lifted my golden hood over my hair and stepped gracefully toward the stone to my right. I took small steps, matching the beat of the drums, and weaved toward the outside of the next tall tower.
All of the faeries faced the crowd until the drumbeats continued. When they pounded slowly, we walked slowly, and carved a path of even footsteps in the snow beneath our feet. The drums called a faster pace. We glided and danced in and out of the stone circle, tracing the same path.
More bards joined in, their fiddles called out a humming vibration, signaling for us to approach the fire. As we moved forward and closer, we connected our hands and stretched them to the blue moon above us. The fiddles jumped in harmony with our graceful trance. We became part of the music, dictating the celebration to the villagers at Stone Meadow.
I forgot myself during the dance and offered my entirety to nature’s miracles. Through my movements, I welcomed the Moon Season on behalf of Aisling, and renewed my own faith in the balance of life. When the first dance ended, I paused to catch my breath before moving again with the second hymn, and then the third. The faces surrounding the sacred circle of stones blurred in my vision, partly from the darkness and reflecting firelight, and partly from my focus on the dance. I knew each step well, and my experience and desire carried me until late in the night, when the rhythms of the drums faded back into the dark forest. The Fae stood around an extinguished fire, inside a circle of stones that stood tall and free from shadow.
While cheers and whistles encircled the shrine, I smiled with exhaustion and acceptance.
“Well done, faeries,” said Raisa, clapping her hands together. She motioned to the lighted fires around us. “Now, go and enjoy the celebration.”
We exchanged praise and grace while dispersing back to our families. Before leaving the stones, I paused to gaze across the open meadow. Flickering lights and thin smoke trails highlighted hundreds of tents, and a crowd that mingled carelessly throughout. Behind me, on the opposite side of the circle, several bards whistled on long pipes to the accompanying beat of a high-pitched drum.
I removed my hood and wiped tiny beads of sweat from my forehead. I felt exhausted, though my body burned with energy from the dances. Each contrasting breath of crisp night air left tiny sharp pains in my lungs, reminding me of the season. I sighed with relief—happy for the experience, and gladder still for the knowledge that I was closer to my marriage. “Next season,” I thought, with a smile, “I’ll be married.” I walked slowly through the camps until finding Mother’s welcoming arms.
“Congratulations.” She offered me a hug. “You were wonderful.”
“Thank you.” I accepted her embrace. “It was refreshing.”
“You were perfect,” said Leila, who grabbed me next. “I love watching the faeries dance. You were the best.”
With Leila remaining around my waist, I looked around our camp. “Where is everyone?” I asked.
“I’m here,” said Ethan, poking his head out of the largest of our tents.
I smiled hello and turned to Mother.
She answered my question. “Your father and Earl have gone to the well,” she said. “I’m sorry you missed them. They left a moment ago.”
I wouldn’t see them until morning. When the men gather to drink during a night of celebration, we called it going to well—because the ale and the exaggerations never ran dry.
Realizing that Cael hadn’t followed me back from the ceremony, I looked behind me. Villagers crowded around Mother’s stewing kettle, but my future brother-in-law was not in our camp. Relieved, I grabbed a ladle from our cart and helped serve our awaiting guests.
“He left the ceremony,” said Leila, whispering in my ear.
I scooped stew into an empty wooden bowl. “Who?” I asked, without turning my head. “Good Season.” I smiled and handed the bowl to a village woman. “You’ll love the flavor.”
“Thank you,” she answered. “Good Season.”
I turned back to Leila. “Leave me alone. You can help us serve or go play by the fire with Ethan.” I turned to face my next villager, an old woman whom I had known forever. “Hello, Andrea,” I said to her. “What do you think of the snow?”
“It’s magical,” she answered. Her voice wobbled with her hands. She grabbed my arm with her bony fingers. “You were wonderful, tonight. You’re my favorite faerie—the most beautiful dancer of them all.”
I nodded politely. “Thank you. Good Season.” Andrea always made me smile. Her memory wasn’t great, but she was always sincere, and kind.
Leila tugged at my shawl. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Leila!” Mother pointed at my sister. “Rhiannon asked you to leave her alone.” Then she turned to me. She held a biscuit in her hand. “Cael left the celebration early.”
Mother’s words pulled like a heavy stone tied to my heart. Cael had annoyed me, but I never had wished for him to miss the sacred celebration. I lowered my shoulders, regretting my forceful tone and words. I wondered if he had told Mother of my rudeness.
“He was assigned watch over the meadow,” said Mother, as if reading my thoughts. She placed the bread in the bottom of a young man’s bowl. “Owen asked him to patrol—lest the bandit try to cause trouble during the celebration.”
Several villagers in our little crowd murmured at the unpleasant reminder. I turned to look, and noticed one worried woman in the back scurry away and disappear in the darkness. Relieved that I wasn’t the cause of Cael’s early exit from the dance, I scooped another spoonful of stew.
“Was Nia with him?” I asked. “Or with her father?” I wanted to visit with my friend again.
Mother shook her head and resumed serving the crowd. They leaned their faces close, as if they wanted to hear the detailed breaths of our conversation. I muttered a disappointed groan and stopped talking, causing many of them to lean back and offer their own comments on the evening.
Later, after everyone was fed and the stewing kettle emptied, I rolled a short stump from our firewood pile and sat down to relax. Taking the weight off my feet allowed a savory sensation of tiny tingles to shoot up my legs. I stretched them straight until the bottom of my gown lifted off the snow. Mother chose a small log and sat next to me. She leaned her arms forward and warmed her fingers over the small flames. We sat quietly for a while, indulging in our simple pleasures, while watching Ethan and Leila wave long sticks in the air. The ends of their sticks were burning, and my siblings’ motions created magnificent symbols and designs as the darkness captured the glow.
Leila made a single dot in the air and circled it with a spiral. “Look,” she said, triumphantly. “I made the faerie symbol for love.”
“That’s abounding compassion,” I said, offering a correction. “Love is two circles joined together.”
Leila aimed her stick again and twisted it in circles while trying to create the image. Despite her efforts, the light effect was wrong. She blew loudly from her pouted lips and stabbed the stick back into the fire. Meanwhile, Ethan thrust his stick in the air as if battling the night with the bright glow of its end.
“Look, Mother,” he said, jabbing it into the moonlight. “I have a flaming sword.”
We chuckled while we watched him play. The glowing edge fascinated me, and I found myself refusing to look
away. Each wild design left images that burned in my mind when I closed my eyes. I reached down and retrieved the stick Leila had relinquished. After a practice twirl, I created two glowing circles overlapping, the perfect symbol for love.
“Come here, Leila,” I said, extending my arm. “I’ll show you how to make the symbol.”
Leila had been watching. She rushed to me and grabbed the stick from my grip.
“Careful,” I said, reaching out to hold her. “Let me guide you. It isn’t as easy as it appears.”
Leila scowled. “How come you can do it?” She waved her arm before I could grab it.
“Practice,” I answered. “The Fae do much more than dance. The perfect faerie can heal the afflicted, lift the hearts of those around her, and write flawlessly in the old language.” I moved her arm in a single circle. “The trick for love…is to first master the perfect circle.” I released her hand. “Practice the single circle a couple of times. The single circle is the blessing of one. It must be perfect before attempting another.”
Leila tried to make the circle, but the result was the same as before. She made a wobbling line that connected and meant nothing.
I stood behind her and guided her hand. “There,” I told her. My effort with her hand wasn’t perfect, but a closer replica of the circle. I repeated the move with her. “That’s it. See, you’ve done half.”
“That’s too hard,” she said, repeating the motion carefully and slow. “Why can’t love be one circle? It’s easier.”
“Because love needs two,” answered Mother. The glowing designs reflected in her eyes. “Without two lovers accepting each other, one merely knows desire.”
Leila’s next motion made a perfect circle.
“That was great!” I said, clapping my praise. “Now, would you like to try the second?”
Leila handed me the stick. “No, go ahead,” she said, groaning while taking my seat. “That’s too hard. I’m not ready for love.”
Her answer made Mother laugh. “That’s good, dear.” She reached over and stroked Leila’s hair. “You’re learning.”
On Fallen Wings Page 12
