The next gift involved a basket containing a few bundles of herbs, namely ginseng, sarsaparilla, and something I didn’t recognize.
“What’s this?” I asked the giver, a youthful man who would pass as human if not for his glowing yellow eyes.
“Horny goat weed,” he replied, his knowing glance explaining exactly what the herbs were used for. Hot blood spilled up my neck as I murmured my thanks, and turned my attention to those behind him.
Thankfully, no one else was carrying a basket of weeds, horny goat or otherwise. The next few offerings were mostly benign, ranging from loaves of still-warm bread to a lovely tapestry that rivaled anything on the manor’s walls. Then there was a carved bone decanter of powdered rhino horn, then a basket of melons, which was followed by a platter of chocolate and the reddest strawberries I’d ever seen. When a bucket of raw oysters was presented to us, I finally asked Micah what the heck was going on.
“Like, half of these offerings are aphrodisiacs,” I explained, when he’d responded by peaking those silver brows of his. As if he was in any way innocent. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“Of course I did,” he replied, reaching so his long fingers could graze my belly. “The purpose of Beltane is fertility.”
Babies. Do we really need to talk about babies during a holiday? I mean, come on. “That’s all?”
“Well,” Micah added, scooping me from my chair and settling me on his knee, “there is also the bit that comes before.”
Micah’s blatant affection for me was a hit with the crowd of onlookers, and a great whoop issued forth. I laughed, since a crowd of partiers cheering while Micah nibbled my neck was about as hilarious as you can get, and tried to wriggle free from his grasp. My May King was undeterred. Instead, he drew me tightly against him, his nibbling giving way to unabashed nuzzling.
“Silverstrand,” boomed a voice. I tore my eyes away from Micah, and found that Old Stoney was at the head of the offering line. Just when I thought baby talk was the true buzzkill, the rocky king of buzzkills stepped up.
“Greymalkin,” Micah returned, with a polite nod. “Have you come to join our celebration?”
“And further disturb the queen? Not I,” he said with a sneer.
“Pray tell, Farthing, how is this gathering disturbing Oriana?”
“Look.” Old Stoney spread his palms, gesturing to encompass the whole of the field. “You’ve set up a silver court, bright enough to cast hers in shadow.”
I followed Old Stoney’s gaze across the field. Was this a court? I suppose it was, what with the food and drink, and that gifts were being offered to the king and queen. But Micah and I were only ruling for this one day, and only in this one field. Besides that, didn’t the Lord of Silver deserve a court of his own?
“Farthing.” Micah nudged me off his lap as he stood, but he kept his arm around my waist. “If you have come here only to make trouble for me and mine, I will remove you without a second thought.” Old Stoney opened his mouth, but Micah didn’t miss a beat. “You know as well as I that I harbor no desire for the throne,” Micah continued, stepping around to the front of the table. I followed him, taking my place at his side. “But don’t take my word for it. Stay, mingle amongst my people, and when you return to Oriana’s side, you can tell her beyond a shadow of a doubt that Lord Silverstrand remains true to his queen.” With an ease that belied the tension crackling around him, Micah selected a loaf of bread from among the offerings. He tore off a generous portion and held it out to Stoney. “What will it be, friend?”
The field had gone deathly quiet, and every set of eyes and ears were trained on Micah and the rock. Old Stoney was so incensed that it looked like lava would leak out his ears, but Micah had well and truly trapped him. The Otherworld didn’t have many enforceable rules, but hospitality was one of them. Once an invitation was given it must be accepted, or at the very least acknowledged. In short, as Micah stood there, smiling at Old Stoney, exuding nothing but good faith as he offered him a hunk of fresh bread, he had the rock over a barrel.
Gods, how I loved him.
Old Stoney grumbled as he accepted the bread, then he turned and stalked away. It seemed that he didn’t enjoy our company any more than we enjoyed his. Good.
Things settled down after that, and the offerings resumed; things settled down even further when a few attendees produced instruments. Nearly everyone was softly swaying to the music, but even though I’d been so eager to dance earlier, I made no move to join them. I’d resumed my place on Micah’s knee and was perfectly content to watch the rest spin and twirl about the still-unlit bonfire. Micah was murmuring about how he couldn’t wait to see the flames against the night sky, when suddenly the crone from the apothecary was standing in front of us. I was so shocked I nearly fell off Micah’s lap, but he was as composed as ever.