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thirty-three

Beyond the Flower Moon

S ilence fell over the assembly as the king rose from his throne. With lowered wings and dimmed luster, the masses curtsied or bowed, awaiting his signal to rise. Only the royal pair shone among the faeries, their shimmering gossamer wings and crowns eclipsing the stars.

“The Ashwoodes welcome all in celebration of this year’s super moon.

May the rays of her light bless all thee whom her glow falls upon.

” Applause roared over the king’s blessing.

“On behalf of the queen and myself, I am delighted to announce the heart bonding of our eldest, Prince Skye Fraxinus Actias Ipomoea Ashwoode to Lady Heather Thistleby.”

A collective gasp arose from within the throng. As the king gestured Heather’s way, all eyes turned, captivated by her presence. As if by cue, the robin escort took flight with a great rush of air, disappearing into the night.

Skye stepped down from the dais, the crowd parting as he strode to meet her with a smile and heated stare.

Heather also appraised him with appreciation.

He wore a cream undershirt with wide sleeves gathered at his wrists and a fitted jade over vest, covered with silver embroidery and black breeches.

A dark forest green short cape draped over his left shoulder.

His beautiful sage and white wings were luminous.

Atop his head was a princely gleaming crown, adorned with pearls, peridot gems and diamonds, creating a heavenly halo of light.

Heather shyly smiled up at him, feeling the focus of so many eyes.

He bowed gracefully, sweeping out his short cape, “Moonbeam, even the moon pales in comparison to ye this night.” Heather curtsied.

As her head inclined, she peeked up at him through her lashes, disbelieving this was reality.

Her wish to dance among the gentry was about to come true and she was to be betrothed to a prince.

It was beyond her most fantastical daydreams.

Skye offered his hand. “May I have this dance?”

The song from the market square suffused the air.

“For the rest of my life,” Heather promised with a shining smile.

Her grasp enclosed his. His arm slipped about her waist as he led the way to the center of the lily pad, now encircled by the previous revelers.

Her luminous skirts rippled like a cloud about her ankles.

A preternaturally stillness struck the merrymakers.

They collectively held their breath as the crowned prince claimed his human bride.

As they spun, Heather spotted Crimson among the throng, his scarlet apparel severe in the sea of pastels of the gathering.

Curiously enough, Aster was by his side.

The pair were engrossed in conversation.

Aster’s burgundy frock was shade far too close to the male’s namesake and his own ensemble.

It couldn’t be coincidental. They were a swathe of red in Heather’s field of vision, keeping her from tumbling out of the spins Skye led her into. Did Skye notice? Did Aster’s parents?

The moonlight glinted off Heather’s opal rose gown, the gems sparkled brighter than a nebulous star.

Her diaphanous skirts swirled cloud like.

As with the first dance she shared with Skye- her feet were lighter than air, as was her heart.

Their love for one another was a mirror, the radiance of love written across their faces- shown through their eyes- the mirror of the soul- and the happiness escaped through the bright smiles upon their lips.

Heart Bonded. Two white blazing, silver stars who found one another in the universe- one shorn from the garden and the other a wanderer on lit wings.

Two halves of a whole. Mid spin, Heather’s dress began to glow, the luster from Enisa’s glamor taking hold- the light traveled from her shoulders to her toes with a radiance to rival the moon.

The notes of the song drew to a close and Skye led Heather off the dance floor, toward his parents. The couple stood upon their approach. Skye and Heather paid their respects accordingly, bowing and curtsying to the royals.

“Now for the presentation of the Ashwoode family colors,” the king announced.

The queen smiled brightly down at her son and his bride to be then removed the sage mint silk sash ribbon from across her own torso.

She gathered it gingerly in her hands and offered it to Skye.

It was custom for pixies to select a ribbon from the faerie tree to complete their vows with, but with Skye’s heritage- this strip of ribbon was one that had been passed down through the generations.

It struck Heather, that she would soon be wearing the ribbon she glimpsed in the tapestry hanging in the great hall.

“Thank ye, mother.”

“Go forth and be merry.” Camellia leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Skye’s cheek.

Skye faced Heather, “By my troth I offer ye my heart on a string and the protection of my family name,” gingerly he looped the ribbon over her head and secured it at her opposite hip. It lay over her wish ribbon. She stroked its smooth surface before she clasped a hand to her breast.

“I vow to cherish both your heart and this ribbon with every beat of my mine.” She repeated the sacred words Aster and Skye taught her.

Camellia presented a jewelry placard to Skye, who pulled a long strand of pearls free and placed it over Heather’s neck.

The beads shown in the dark, each one resembling a miniature full moon on a string.

The end bore a golden ornament with a crystalline jewel at the center.

Skye picked up the pendant from her chest and as he pressed a finger upon it- the clear stone turned pale green, filling with his magick.

“So that a piece of me will always be present,” explained Skye.

They sealed their intentions with a searing kiss.

Pixies cheered and offered their congratulations.

A multitude of familiar faces filled the receiving line to shake Skye’s hand and greet Heather.

Enisa was one of them, her blue gown the envy of many.

Heather twirled for her, who exclaimed, “The gown looks just as I imagined.” Heather thanked the female profusely for her style and talent and invited her to tea the following week.

Aster embraced Heather, “I could not have asked for a better sister.” Rhoden followed her in the procession, never further than an arms’ length from his charge.

“Nor I,” replied Heather.

The musicians played a festive tune, and attendees once again crowded the dance floor. Aster’s gaze slipped to Crimson, who escorted Esmere with a firm hand into a series of spins, but Heather noted his eyes were twin daggers, pointedly fixed on the female at her side.

“Should I be so lucky to find my own twin flame,” stated Aster. The female’s expression was a mixture of longing, yearning and hurt.

“He’s dancing with her, but don’t you see, Aster- his gaze is fixed upon you.

” Heather hoped Aster realized the truth someday.

She thought it apparent the male was distracted by Aster and her alone.

But Heather decided to be cautious, and remark no further.

She had once made a similar mistake with Mason and Jessamine.

Rhoden was next in the receiving line to offer his felicitations on their betrothal.

“I haven’t seen Tarragon tonight. Have ye?

” his face shadowed with concern as he searched the gathering.

Skye was shell shocked at Rhoden’s revelation.

Heather surveyed the celebration, unable to spot Tarragon among the revelers.

“Nay, Skye, I don’t see him either.” As one of Skye’s closest companions, it was unlikely that he would avoid the receiving line.

Skye’s gaze joined the search, “That’s highly unusual for him to miss the Flower Fete.” To Rhoden he said, “He journeyed to the mortal kingdom, did he not return?” Heather was filled with concern. What could have happened to the male?

“I haven’t heard from him in days,” replied Rhoden.

“Mayhap, he’ll show up at any moment. Let’s convene in the morn if he doesn’t turn up. I could trace him by his oath mark,” said Skye.

“Oath mark?” Heather inquired.

“It’s similar to the bonding insignia, but it’s the symbol of my family- the Ashwoode tree. Tarragon bore it the instant he swore allegiance to the crown.”

The receiving line dissipated as everyone at the celebration had finally offered their congratulations.

“Let us sneak away,” Heather whispered to Skye. She swiftly led him back and around the dais of thrones. She pointed to a lily pad perfectly appointed for two, nearly hidden by hanging wisteria, in the distance.

“Can you fly me over there?” She twined her arms about his neck, and he lifted her into his embrace, quickly taking flight. The shining waters rippled below as he flew out of the direct rays of moonlight.

Situated on their private lily pad, the ambient noises of nature surrounded them.

Fireflies lit up the dark in their roving clusters in the yonder.

Overhanging wisteria blossoms swayed in a gentle breeze.

Faint music from the celebration mixed with the falling rain.

They sat in comforting silence, hip to hip.

Heather lowered her head to rest against his solid broad shoulder.

Heather linked her hand with Skye’s, his large one encompassing her own. She caressed the planes of the back of his hand with her thumb.

“That day in the garden,” she hesitated, “I lost all sight of hope.” Heather was ashamed to admit it, but she had been drowning just like their gardens.

Her lips trembled. The words were difficult to divulge.

She wasn’t accustomed to being this vulnerable.

“I don’t know what led you there,” she took a deep calming breath, “but you saved me. You gave me the optimism I so desperately needed,” she whispered.

Heather recalled the mire of despair that consumed her, and moisture gathered in her eyes anew.

“And then I stupidly sent you on your way when we met, I was petrified,” she shook her head… “So scared that I’d never see you again.” It was a challenge to draw air.

There was a knot lodged in her throat. Her tears broke forth, spilling down her face.

With a rasp, Skye revealed, “Ye were my salvation,” his gaze held hers, he delicately wiped away a tear with a thumb, “I was wandering, looking for someone my heart knew, but I was yet to be acquainted with,” he sighed.

“Ye looked so heartbroken, unshielded from the elements, trying to salvage something from nothing while those who depended on ye weren’t worthy of your efforts.

Your despair left a lasting impression. But so did your fortitude.

” He cradled her cheek, staring into her velvet, smoky eyes.

“I returned to the garden, days later, but didn’t find ye there. I happened upon a dazed snail who informed me of a girl trapped inside a salt ring.”

“All because of a pretentious snail,” Heather laughed through her tears. Skye captured her jaw between his big hands, softly caressing the plane of her cheek before he leaned in for a kiss.

His lips were soft and warm as they tentatively met her own. The tenderness shifted to something deeper, molten- as Heather opened her mouth against his, hungry. Skye hummed low. She could kiss him forever and she will still need more time. He kissed her until she could no longer think.

It could have been heartbeats or chimes later when they pulled apart, desperate for air, her lips swollen and tender.

And it was half a chime later filled with abounding sounds of nature, before she spoke again.

“I considered trading my ribbon for the rain to cease.” Heather confessed.

She was ashamed that she hadn’t followed through with the plan.

But deep down she grappled with bitterness.

Why should she sacrifice her one wish for the king to reap the benefits?

And after their meeting with the air spirit she gathered that particular request wouldn’t be granted.

Mayhap a better solution would be for the pixies to heal the commoner’s gardens.

Again, she reflected on how much good she could perform in the world, if she had a semblance of their power.

She rose from her seat, smoothing down her voluminous skirts, “Let’s return to the tree. My mind is settled.”