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“Sorry, I was, um…tied up.”

She smirked. “Funny. Come on, Ann and I are going to braid your hair.”

And that’s exactly what they did. They braided my hair along my crown, threading in the matching ribbon that had come in the box from Agnes. After that, Ann helped me put on the dress and carefully laced my corset up my back. It was definitely one instance where I wished I had a full-length mirror to admire myself.

Because I felt like a princess. Papa once told me that I was a princess—and that someday I’d be a queen. Now it wasn’t a lie. He’d been right. I was the May Queen.

And William was my king. Every time I thought of him, pictured him, remembered the taste of him on my lips, my stomach fluttered. And with each minute that passed until I could see him again, that excitement grew.

The evening started with the feast. Roasted chicken and bread with boiled vegetables by candlelight—the one exception to our open-flame rule, and only because the candles were all covered by glass lanterns. We did not eat with our hands.

Picnic benches had been lined up, and I sat at one end and William at the other in our places of honor. We talked to our neighbors, occasionally catching each other’s eye before William’s gaze stole away like an elusive ninja. It became somewhat of a game, to try and catch his eyes on mine. He caught onto me, I think, because he started to smile whenever I caught him watching at me.

And then he turned the game around on me, piercing me with his dark stare that reflected the golden candlelight. When our eyes locked, everything else around us seemed to vanish. It was only us.

My throat tightened and I swallowed, admiring him in his fine new tunic, which—not coincidentally, I’m sure—matched my dress. Despite everything going on around me, I could only think of later tonight when I hoped that we’d have time to spend together.

Alone.

 

 

Chapter 28

William

After leaving Jenna, I dress quickly, return to the clearing to wait…and wait. Almost an hour. Late again, Mistress Kovac!

One of the clanswomen tells me to be patient, that Jenna is busy “prettying herself up.” Completely unnecessary, in my opinion. How can you improve on perfection? The features and hair of an angel, the glowing skin and body of a goddess. And a heart of pure gold.

My heart speeds up as those thoughts lead where they usually do. What if I’m not enough for her? What if I can’t get her heirloom back tomorrow? What if I’m not …worthy?

I’m dressed in my new tunic, finely crafted by Agnes. Our clan seamstress has done an excellent job with the stitching on the sleeves, especially. And the embroidery itself is a work of art. Knowing what kind of effort it takes to produce an item of beauty, I’m always appreciative of these efforts in others.

My tunic matches the beautiful gown that Agnes made for Jenna. When she finally enters the clearing, all heads turn in her direction. It’s not difficult to understand why. The shades of blue next to her pale skin look as beautiful as I knew they would. In fact, they look better. And she walks in like the queen that she is, graceful, her chin tilted up a little—probably conscious of the crown of flowers in her golden hair. Beautiful.

I can’t draw the next breath, and I’m pretty certain I’ve completely forgotten any hunger I had for the food in front of me. She flashes me a smile and apologizes for being late, but says she wanted to do the dress justice. I watch Jenna’s lips as she talks, remembering how she tasted just an hour ago. Sweeter than ever, because she told me she would stay. And right now, all I want to do is take her in my arms and make her mine—for real.

Everyone around us is admiring her and Lord de Bricasse speaks up. “We haven’t had a May Queen this beautiful since…”

Never. I mentally complete for him, though he’s joking that it’s been since the previous Beltane.

After our feast, the fire is lit in the specially designated area for a campfire. And it’s a massive bonfire, the heat singeing our faces and hands. Everyone is clapping and cheering as the flames reach higher and higher. Lord Ryleigh, or “Joe,” as he is known in his mundane life, breaks out his fiddle, and we begin to assemble in the space around the fire.

In the past, I made it a point to leave before the dancing began, because dancing inevitably meant crowds. But tonight nothing will stop me from dancing holding my Jenna—her body close to mine. My face next to hers. The smell of her hair and skin in my nostrils.

We start with easy formations based on English country dancing. Lady Ryleigh, Joe’s wife, is an expert in recreational European folk dance and has taught most of us how to do it. I’ve been brushing up with videos and Youtube.

Without question, I’m paired with Jenna, and I wonder at the lucky coincidence that brought us together as King and Queen. I’d almost start adopting Jenna’s belief in fate if I didn’t find it so silly.

As I watch her, I imagine the tiara on her head instead of the May crown. Determination steels me. Tomorrow, I’ll get it back for her and I’ll humiliate Doug in the process. I don’t care what he thinks of me or what he’s said. I don’t even care that the stakes are high for me, too. Because if I lose, I won’t be able to come back here and be with all my friends. That concerns me, but it’s not the worst thing that could happen.

No, all I care about is getting that tiara back for Jenna. Making her happy. Being worthy of her.

Her thin hands in mine feel good as we clasp them together and spin slowly first to the left and then to the right. Stepping back, I bow and she curtsies ,then we execute the complex but repetitive steps. I find myself looking down at my feet often, which not only helps me avoid tripping over my own feet but also to evade accidental eye contact.

I don’t want to make a wrong move, and I definitely don’t want to step on her toes. I want this night to be perfect. I’ve run everything through my head a thousand times and it should be perfect. We’ll dance. We’ll kiss. And more.

But what if I can’t get her what she needs? What if I can’t be her champion tomorrow? What if I disappoint her? That thought sets my heart beating faster than it should based on this light physical activity. Because now my fears are taking over and they’re all I can see.

It’s getting hard to concentrate. A tightness in my chest is intensifying, and when I look up and feel the crowd around us, I get lightheaded. I squeeze my eyes closed, suppressing a wave of nausea.