Spells (20 page)

Laurel looked back to make sure Tamani was following and gave him a quick smile when he met her eyes.

“You brought him?” Katya said in a whisper.

“Of course,” Laurel said at full volume.

Katya smiled, only a little tightly. “Silly of me. You certainly need a guide. You’ve never been to one of these. I should have thought. I’ll see you after the show, okay?” Katya waved happily, then turned and disappeared into a small group of faeries, most of whom Laurel recognized from the Academy. A few of them were staring at her unashamedly. She had been so busy looking at the scenery that she hadn’t noticed the faeries in the mezzanine stealing long looks at her and Tamani. It took her a moment to realize why.

Katya and Mara weren’t the only ones in full bloom. The blossoms dotting the mezzanine were small and unassuming compared with those Laurel had seen this summer, tending toward single colors and simple shapes, like hers. But they were all in bloom; every single female Fall.

Except her.

Laurel thought about the temperature in Avalon; it was a little bit cooler than when she had been there in the summer, but only just. She wondered how the faeries’ bodies knew when to bloom. Was it the angle of the sun? The slight changes in temperature? It did make sense that Avalon’s temperate weather would delay autumn blooming—and maybe prolong blossoming—but for how long? Laurel made a mental note to find out more about blossoming when she was in Avalon next summer. Until then, she could only conclude that something was different between Avalon and Crescent City. Two days earlier, two degrees higher, and maybe she wouldn’t have felt so out of place.

Lifting her chin resolutely, Laurel walked to the edge of the balcony. She touched Tamani’s arm and looked down at his hands. Sure enough, at some point he had pulled on a pair of black velvety gloves. Even he had noticed. Refusing to dwell on it, Laurel looked at the main floor below her, turning her attention from the decorations to the faeries themselves. Their apparel was much plainer and Laurel didn’t see many sparkles of jewelry, but the Spring faeries looked completely happy. Hugs were shared, children were caught up in embraces, greetings exchanged, and even from her spot so far above, peals of laughter found their way to Laurel’s ears.

“Are they all Spring faeries?” Laurel asked.

“Most of them,” Tamani said. “There are a few Summer faeries who are too young to perform, but most of the Summer faeries are involved in the show.”

“Is…” She hesitated. “Is Rowen down there?”

“Somewhere. With my sister.”

Laurel nodded, not knowing what else to say. She hadn’t considered that accompanying her meant Tamani wouldn’t be able to sit with his family. A familiar guilt filled her. It was too easy to believe that Tamani lived only for her, that his life did not exist at all except where it intersected her own. To forget that there were other people who loved him.

The buzz of the crowd changed abruptly, and the faeries below the mezzanine all looked up with an air of anticipation.

Laurel felt Tamani’s hand around her arm and suddenly he was half escorting, half dragging her to a seat several rows farther away from the center of the mezzanine. “This should be the Winter faeries,” Tamani whispered. “Jamison, Yasmine, and Her Majesty, Queen Marion.”

Laurel’s throat tightened as she turned away from Tamani, her attention—like all the other faeries—on the archway at the top of the mezzanine. She wasn’t sure whether she was more surprised that there were only three, or that there were as many as three. She’d only ever considered Jamison and the elusive Queen before.

An entourage of guards in sky-blue uniforms came through first; Laurel recognized them from the last time she’d seen Jamison. They were followed immediately by Jamison himself, dressed in deep green robes with his usual twinkling smile. He was escorting a young girl who looked about twelve, her smooth, ebony skin and carefully arranged ringlets setting off an extremely formal gown of pale purple silk. Then the entire coliseum seemed to breathe in all at once as the Queen entered.

She was wearing a shimmering white dress with a train of glittering threading that curled up from the ground in the soft breeze. Her hair was jet black and streamed down her back in soft waves that reached just past her waist. A delicate crystal crown balanced atop her head with strings of diamonds attached that fell into her curls and glimmered in the sunlight.

But it was her face Laurel focused on.

Pale green eyes surveyed the crowd. Although Laurel knew the face would be considered beautiful by any fashion magazine’s standards, she couldn’t get past the pursed lips, the tiny furrow between her eyes, the slight lift of one eyebrow as if she were loathe to acknowledge the deep bows that everyone around her had dropped into.

Including Tamani.

Which left Laurel alone standing straight up.

She hurried to bow like everyone else before the Queen saw her. It apparently worked; the Queen’s gaze fluttered over the crowd without pausing, and within seconds, the Fall faeries had resumed their upright stances and their buzzing conversations.

Marion turned with a whispering flutter of her gown and walked to the dais, where three ornate seats sat in prominence over the others. Laurel watched Jamison take the little girl’s hand, helping her up the steps and into a fluffy chair at the Queen’s left. Laurel caught his eye and he smiled and whispered something to the little girl before turning and approaching them. The crowd didn’t stop talking or laughing as Jamison passed by, but they subtly shifted out of his way, clearing a path.

“My dear Laurel,” Jamison said, his eyes, now green to match his robes, sparkling. “I’m so happy you’ve come.” He clapped Tamani on the shoulder. “And you, m’boy. It’s been too many months since I’ve seen you. Overworking yourself at that gate of yours, I imagine.”

Tamani smiled, shedding some of his brooding air. “Indeed, sir. Laurel keeps us busy with her mischief.”

“I imagine she does,” Jamison said with a grin. The sound of stringed instruments being tuned filled the vast coliseum. “I had best take my seat,” Jamison said. But before he turned he lifted his hands to Laurel’s face, gently framing her cheeks with his fingers. “I’m so glad you were able to join us,” he said, his voice a quiet whisper. Then he was gone, the rich green of his robes rustling away through the crowd.

Tamani nudged Laurel toward seats on the far end of the large balcony, where Katya was waving at them.

“Who’s that little girl?” Laurel asked, craning her neck to watch Jamison hand something to the girl before taking his seat.

“That’s Yasmine. She’s a Winter faerie.”

“Oh. Will she be the Queen someday?”

Tamani shook his head. “Doubtful. She’s too close in age to Marion. Same thing happened with Jamison and Cora, the late Queen.”

“There’s only three Winter faeries in all of Avalon?”

“Only three. And often fewer.” Tamani smiled. “My mother was the Gardener for both Marion and Yasmine. Yasmine blossomed just months before my mother retired. Very few Gardeners have the honor of tending two Winter faeries.” He tilted his head toward the young Winter faerie. “I got to know Yasmine a little before she was sent to the Winter Palace. Sweet thing. Good heart, I think. Jamison is very fond of her.”

Just then a small but elaborately dressed faerie stepped out from behind the massive curtains that stretched across the stage. The crowd hushed.

“Get ready,” Tamani whispered in her ear. “You’ve never seen
anything
like this.”

THE CURTAINS OPENED TO REVEAL AN EXQUISITE
forest scene with bright beams of multicolored lights shining down in soft circles. Laurel realized that there was no way to dim the light in the coliseum—and no need either. Everything on the stage seemed to glow from within—brighter, clearer, more real even than Laurel’s immediate surroundings. She was riveted; surely this was Summer magic at work.

Two faeries knelt in the middle of the stage, their arms wrapped around each other, and soft, romantic music drifted up from the orchestra. They looked pretty much like regular ballet dancers, the man with perfect, mocha-colored skin, well-defined arms, and closely cut hair, the woman with long, lean limbs, her auburn hair pulled tightly back. The couple rose and began dancing on soft, bare feet.

“No toe shoes?” Laurel whispered to Tamani.

“What are toe shoes?”

Okay, no, obviously
, Laurel thought. But she could see how it was ballet nonetheless. The movements were flowing and graceful, with long stretches and lifts worthy of any human contortionist. Though for principal dancers in such an important show, they did seem a little ungraceful. Their feet plodded a bit and their movements felt very heavy. Still, they were quite good. It took a few minutes into the pas de deux before Laurel realized what seemed so out of place.

“What’s up with the beard?” she asked Tamani. The male dancer was wearing a black beard that blended in with his costume, but as Laurel watched, she realized it trailed almost down to his waist.

Tamani softly cleared his throat and for a second Laurel thought he was going to avoid her question entirely. “You have to understand,” he finally whispered. “Most of these faeries have never seen a real human. Their idea of what a human looks like is almost as distorted as what humans think of faeries. Faeries are”—he searched for the right word—“intrigued by the idea that humans grow fur on their faces. It’s very animalistic.”

Laurel suddenly realized that she had never seen a faerie with a beard. The idea simply hadn’t occurred to her. She thought about how Tamani’s face was always smooth and soft—without the gritty hint of stubble that David’s usually had. She’d never actually noticed before.

“The dancers who are playing humans also move less gracefully, to show that they are animals, not faeries,” Tamani continued.

Turning her attention back to the play, Laurel watched the dancers rise and fall with just that hint of plodding. Knowing now that it was deliberate, she appreciated the talent it must take—to gracefully portray a lack of grace. She banished to the back of her mind a handful of angry thoughts about perpetuating stereotypes. Those would have to wait.

Two more bearded dancers entered the stage, and the woman tried to hide behind her partner. “What’s happening?” Laurel asked.

Tamani pointed to the original couple. “That’s Heather and Lotus. They’re secret lovers, but Heather’s father there”—he pointed to an older faerie with a bushy brown beard shot through with gray—“orders her to marry Darnel instead. The human custom of parents arranging marriages is ridiculous, by the way.”

“Well, they don’t anymore. At least not where I come from.”

“Still.”

Laurel watched as the two men departed and Heather and Lotus came together for a mournful duet. The music was like nothing Laurel had ever heard before and she felt tears building up in her eyes for these star-crossed humans who danced so beautifully to the orchestra’s woeful refrain.

The lights illuminating the stage brightened and Lotus leaped onto a rock, casting his arms wide in an elaborate proclamation. “What’s happening now?” Laurel asked, tugging on Tamani’s shirt in her excitement.

“Lotus has decided that he will prove himself to Heather’s father by retrieving a golden apple from the Isle of Hesperides. Also known as Avalon,” he added with a smile.

The stage cleared, and the set shimmered for an instant before morphing into an enormous flower garden with blooms of every imaginable color covering the perimeter of the stage. Laurel gasped. “How did they do that?”

Tamani smiled. “Much of the set is an illusion. This is why Summer faeries are in charge of our entertainment.”

Laurel leaned forward, trying to study the new scenery, but she didn’t have much time before the faux glade was filled with dancing faeries in bright, multicolored costumes. She saw instantly just how obviously ungraceful the “human dancers” had been. The company of faeries whirled through elaborate choreography with a grace that would have put Pavlova to shame. After a few minutes of the incredible corps, a rather tall faerie in a sheer, clinging gown entered from stage right. The company of faeries dropped to their knees, allowing the female faerie to take central focus for her solo. Laurel had been to professional ballets in San Francisco, but nothing prepared her for the raw talent and grace of this principal dancer.

“Who is that?” she breathed to Tamani, her eyes riveted on the stage.

“Titania,” Tamani responded.

“
The
Titania?” Laurel asked breathlessly. His arm was snug around Laurel’s back as their heads pressed close so they could whisper, but Laurel hardly noticed.

“No, no. I meant she’s
playing
Titania.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to get to see a legendary faerie perform. In the middle of Titania’s beautiful arabesque, a male faerie—with no beard this time—entered from stage left. The faerie corps twittered and dropped into low bows on the floor of the stage.

“Is that Oberon?” Laurel asked, thinking of the faerie king often paired with Titania in faerie lore.

“See, you’re catching on,” Tamani said with a grin.

The faerie playing Oberon began his own solo, his movements brash, daring, almost violent, but with the same controlled grace of the faerie playing Titania. Soon the two were dancing together, each trying to outdo the other as the music rose stronger, louder, until with a surge of brass, Titania tripped on her own feet and sprawled onto the ground. With a wave of her hand, and angry, stomping steps, she and some of the faerie corps exited the stage, chased by Oberon’s faeries.

“Why are they angry with her?” Laurel asked.

“Titania is a very unpopular figure in history,” Tamani responded. “She was a Fall faerie—and Unseelie at that—who became Queen during a time when there were no Winter Faeries. Oberon was born soon after and took over as King, when he was only twenty years old—almost a child, in terms of royalty, and still not soon enough for most people’s taste. Titania was responsible for the disastrous mess in Camelot.”

“The trolls…destroyed it, right?”

“That’s right. And the aftermath led to his death just as he was proving to be one of the greatest kings in Avalon’s history. So Titania is generally blamed for that loss.”

“That seems unfair.”

“Perhaps.”

The stage cleared again and returned to a forest scene. Lotus rushed in, pursued by Heather, who hid behind the trees every time Lotus turned around. They rushed about in confusing circles until two more figures entered the stage: Darnel, and a very pretty female faerie.

“Now I’m confused again,” Laurel said as the female faerie tried to cling to Darnel and he kept pushing her away.

“That’s Hazel. She is in love with Darnel. Darnel is chasing Heather, who is chasing Lotus, trying to stop him from the dangerous trip to the Isle of Hesperides. Hazel is trying to convince Darnel to just be happy with her.”

Something clicked in Laurel’s head as the lovely Hazel tugged forlornly on Darnel’s coat and he cast her aside. “Wait a second,” she said. “This is
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
.”

“Well, it’s what would eventually become
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. Like most of Shakespeare’s best plays, it started out as a faerie story.”

“No way!”

Tamani shushed her gently as a few Fall faeries glanced their way. “Honestly,” Tamani continued, his voice low and soft, “did you think he came up with
Romeo and Juliet
all by himself? A thousand years ago it was Rhoeo and Jasmine, but Shakespeare’s version is a passable retelling.”

Laurel’s eyes stayed locked on the four faeries dancing their dizzying chase. “How did Shakespeare come to know the faerie stories?” She glanced up at Tamani. “He
was
human, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, yes.” Tamani chuckled quietly. “He lived in a time when the rulers of Avalon still kept an eye on human affairs. They were impressed by his plays about the Kings—Lear and Richard, I believe. Deadly dull stories, but his writing was magnificent. So the King had him brought here to give him some fresh story lines for his beautiful words. And they hoped he would correct some of the errors in faerie mythology.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
was his first play after coming to Avalon, followed soon after by
The Tempest
. But after a while he resented that the King would not let him come and go as he pleased. So he left and didn’t come back. And as revenge, he didn’t put any more faeries into his plays. He made them all human and claimed them as his own.”

“Is that really true?” Laurel asked in wonder.

“That’s how I learned it.”

The scene returned to the flowered clearing where Puck—a Fall faerie of remarkable skill, Tamani informed Laurel—was instructed by Oberon to create a potion that would make Titania fall in love with the first creature she saw, in payment for her mishandling of Camelot. And since he was a benevolent king, he also tried to help the humans. “After all,” Tamani explained, “he couldn’t let them actually enter Avalon and take a golden apple, but he didn’t want to send them home with nothing to show for their pains.”

Laurel nodded and turned her attention back to the ballet. The story continued in a familiar manner, now that she knew what play it was—Lotus and Darnel both chasing after Hazel, Heather being left loverless, and everyone dancing in intricate, frenzied patterns that made Laurel’s head whirl.

Then the scene changed back to the faerie bower and, after Puck placed his potion in Titania’s eyes, a huge, hulking beast came lumbering in. Laurel couldn’t tell if the beast was an illusion or an elaborate costume. “What’s that?” she asked. “Isn’t he supposed to be a man with a donkey head?”

“He’s a troll,” Tamani said. “There is no greater disgrace among the fae than to fall in love with a troll. It just doesn’t happen without serious derangement—or some kind of magical compulsion.”

“What about the part where all the men are putting on a play? That’s where the guy is supposed to come from.”

“Shakespeare put that part in by himself. There’s no weird play in the original story.”

“I always did think that was the lamest part of the story. I thought it should end when the lovers wake up and are discovered,” Laurel said.

“Well, it does,” Tamani said with a grin.

Laurel watched silently for a while as the dancers continued the story and everything began to be set right. Just before the final scene, Titania came back on and danced the most beautiful solo Laurel had ever seen to the sad strains of a soft lament. Then she spun and swooned at Oberon’s feet, offering him her crown.

“What just happened?” Laurel asked when the dance was over. She couldn’t bear to ask during the solo—it was too lovely to take her eyes off of even for a second.

“Titania begs forgiveness of Oberon for her misdeeds and concedes her crown to him. That means that she admits she was never truly the Queen.”

“Because of Camelot?”

“Because she was a Fall faerie.”

Laurel frowned as she considered this. But the scenery changed quickly to the clearing where the lovers awoke from their enchanted sleep and danced a joyful double pas de deux, and were joined by the full corps at the end. When they stepped forward for their bows, the audience on the ground floor seemed to rise as one to applaud the company. Tamani rose from his seat as well and Laurel jumped up to join him, clapping so hard her hands began to sting.

Tamani placed a firm hand on her arm and pulled her downward.

“What?” Laurel said, pulling her arm away.

Tamani’s eyes darted back and forth. “It’s not done, Laurel. You don’t stand for anyone below your station. Only your equals, or your superiors.”

Laurel glanced around. He was right. Nearly everyone in the balcony was clapping enthusiastically, faces lit with broad, beautiful smiles, but no one was standing except her and Tamani. She raised an eyebrow at Tamani, turned her face back to the stage, and remained on her feet as she continued clapping.

“Laurel!” Tamani said sternly under his breath.

“That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen and I am going to express my appreciation as I see fit,” Laurel said flatly, continuing to clap. She shot a quick look at him. “Are
you
going to stop me?”

Tamani sighed and shook his head, but he stopped trying to get her to sit down.

Slowly the applause faded and the dancers ran gracefully off the stage, where the scenery had melted into stark whiteness. About twenty faeries in bright green lined up at the back.

“There’s more?” Laurel asked as she and Tamani took their seats again.

“Fire dancers,” Tamani said with a broad smile. “You’ll love these.”

A deep boom from a large kettledrum sounded. At first, it was just a slow, steady beat. The green-clad faeries moved forward as one, taking slow, marching steps in time with the drums. As each line reached the front of the stage, they raised their hands, sending beams of multicolored light skyward. A second later, enormous showers of sparks exploded above the crowd—almost eye level with the balcony—beautiful, vivid colors in rainbow hues that made Laurel blink against their brilliance. It was better than any fireworks display she’d ever seen.

A second drum began to sound in a quicker and more intricate rhythm than the first, and the faeries onstage changed with it. Their dance turned acrobatic, faeries flipping and leaping to the front of the stage instead of walking. A third drum started, then a fourth, and the performers’ pace and motions grew frenetic with the beat.