The Goblin's Crown

Chapter Sixty Two: Midsummer Eve

In the Summer Branches it never quite got dark, just as night never ended in the Unseelie's territory, so too did day persist in the Seelie's Kingdom. Still, I could feel the passage of time. I felt something shift. As Dusk fell, changing the sky from a light blue to a rainbow of oranges and pinks, the moon of magic itself began to grow full and burn as hot and bright as the sun peeking over the horizon of the phantom sea beyond The Hollow's branches.

Midsummer Eve was taking its last breaths and I was fashionably late.

As I strode across the meadow and entered the bonfire's golden light, all dancing ceased and every eye turned to the human in their midst. The very sight of me strangled the faeries. Their merry giggling stopped cold in their throats. The fire revealed the terror that covered my flesh and lit my goblin entourage's gruesome grins.

I moved with purpose, my steps sure and unwavering, my head held high and eyes turned towards my goal while my two small guards snapped at faerie toes ahead of me and Llinos and Snorri prowled just steps behind me with their hands resting upon their swords.

In thrones of blooming cream-colored roses, the royal faeries of both courts sat as if nature itself were cradling them. Oberon and Mab sat side by side, each already drowning in wine. They were each dressed in clothing that both suited their own cultures and borrowed aspects from the other's. Oberon wore a draping garment of sunshine gold that left more to the imagination than his usual attire. A crown of golden leaves and faerie fruit ringed his antlers. Mab, on the other hand, was bathed in a flowing gown of midnight sky and twinkling stars, the fabric so thin that her pale flesh peeked through. Her long, inky hair had been done up in an intricate pattern, leaving just the locks at her temples loose and hanging by her high cheekbones. She too wore a crown. A band of silver interwoven baren branches encircled her head and a crescent moon hovered just above the crown of her head as if the branches had captured it. Handsome Oberon with his perfect features and bright smile beamed like a blazing summer sun while Mab, cast in his shadow, glowed softly with serene beauty.

Had this been our first meeting, I would have had a very different first impression of them. Oberon looked boyishly charming, Mab lovely and kind, but I knew better. Those lovely faces and bright smiles hid souls as black as mine.

Mab and her brother Kieran sat closely side by side. Their fangs flashed in the firelight as he whispered something into her ear. Young Bran was curled up in his mother's lap, beginning to doze.

At Oberon's left hand, Titania sat stiffly with her hands folded tightly in her lap. She watched Oberon, sway in his seat as he laughed at his own bad jokes with a long-suffering, weary expression upon her beautiful face.

Aurora. Poor Aurora trembled and shuttered in her throne of flowers. She wore a gown of dusky pink that came in just beneath her bust then flowed outward around her body. Creamy roses and baby's breath were woven into a crown about her fiery red hair. She made a heartrendingly beautiful bride, but she was not even attempting to hide her terror. She stared down her hands, where her dainty fingers picked at the soft flesh of her arms, her gaze transfixed. Her little half-sister, the pretty, dark-haired Daphne, stood close by with an arm and wing wrapped around her shoulders. Despite the warmth of her white feathers and loving embrace, Aurora shivered.

Slowly, perhaps because she could hear the slithering of my gown's train across the grass beneath the roar of her father's drunken laughter, Aurora's eyes lifted and met my gaze. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted, releasing a gasp tinged with horror.

"Good evening," I greeted, grinning wolfishly. "Merry Midsummer."

At the sound of my voice, the other faerie lords finally acknowledged me. Titania's spine stiffened. Oberon squinted at me as if he could not quite believe I was actually there and Mab, dear Mab leaped to her feet so quickly and sloppily she knocked her son to the ground and almost spilled her wine all over herself.