Copper Ravens(51)

Well, we knew she’d be recognized eventually. I glanced at Micah, but he only shrugged and reached for a wineglass; if he had any qualms about the fact that the Seelie Queen was now known to be bunking in his guestroom, he was content to let them be until tomorrow. Then the crowd parted, and I realized that my queenly mother was far from the most interesting thing in the field that day.

In the center of the field was a maypole.

I vaguely remembered dancing around a maypole when I was very young, during the Beltane celebrations held at the Raven Compound. Back then, Mom and Dad had dressed up as the May Queen and King, overseeing the bonfires and collecting dew, ensuring that all were happy and content. I remember lying under the fairy tree, exhausted, and wondering how my parents could keep up with the endless revelry.

Now that Micah and I were filling the roles of the May King and Queen, I understood. The flower crown upon my head filled me with an elated energy, so much so that I wanted to dance and leap around the field. Micah had laughed, and we danced for a time, but he stayed me when I tried to grab one of the long ribbons dangling from the maypole.

“That dance is for those seeking to find a mate,” Micah murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “You, love, are well and truly attached.”

I looked longingly at the pole. “We don’t get to dance?”

“Ours will be later,” he promised.

I smiled at that and leaned against Micah, his arms sliding around my waist as we oversaw the revelers. My eyes could hardly track all the multicolored ribbons as they were plaited together by the unattached, skipping in circles but somehow never knotting the ribbons. Sadie clutched a blue ribbon and as the dance ended found herself blushing, face-to-face with an equally embarrassed faun. I watched as the two of them wandered off for refreshments. After they’d disappeared, I saw Max skulking around the edge of the festivities.

“Why didn’t he dance at the maypole?” I wondered. It was like he hadn’t even noticed that the area around the maypole was teeming with available females, most of whom were looking for mates, if only for the evening.

“Perhaps his heart lives elsewhere,” Micah offered. “I know that, when you are nearby, I see no other woman.”

Before I had time to blush at the compliment, Micah and I were called to take our places at the head table. We were seated in two enormous wooden chairs, reminiscent of thrones, bedecked with so many swags of flowers that you could hardly see the high backs. No sooner were we settled than the other revelers lined up before us, each of them bearing packages.

“What are they holding?” I whispered to Micah.

“They bring offerings for the May King and his Queen,” Micah replied.

“I like presents,” I murmured. “Will there be more copper gifts?”

Micah shrugged. “We shall soon learn.”

I watched, somewhat amused, as the revelers went about organizing themselves into an orderly mess; the fact that Micah’s wine had flowed freely for the better part of the day made this look like an Otherworldly slapstick routine. In the midst of the semi-drunken chaos, a woman stepped forward.

She was tall, with flowering vines twisted throughout her long hair, their softness in stark contrast to her clothing of bark bound with straw. Her limbs were long and spindly, like dried-up twigs, as was her nose. She looked to be very old, yet her face and hands bore no wrinkles, and her hair was a vibrant blonde underneath the lush vines. Micah leaned toward me, probably to make an introduction, but I already knew who she was.

She was the Lady of the Great Wood.

“For the May King,” she said, her voice as clear as a bell. She reached forward, graceful despite her gawky limbs, and placed a single perfect lily before Micah. It was a deep orange, tipped with red, the perfect complement to his silvery hair. Micah affixed the lily to his shirt with a bit of silver, and murmured his thanks.

“And for his Queen,” the Lady continued, now placing a spray of yellow orchids before me. Following Micah’s lead, I pinned the spray to my bodice, though my pins were copper.

“Your gifts are as lovely as your Wood,” I said, “Thank you for joining us today.”

With that, the Lady of the Wood gracefully bowed her head and melted away into the crowd. “I thought you two didn’t get along,” I whispered to Micah.

“It seems that things have changed for the better,” Micah replied. He squeezed my fingers, and we looked toward the next person in line, who happened to be one of Micah’s magistrates from the village. He carried a crystal decanter filled with golden wine, a sprig of fresh woodruff poking out of it. It was a lovely gift, and Micah and I both said as much.