Chapter 2

Aurora

HARRISON OPTS TO STAY HOME for this festival, more interested in his own celebration of the summer than he is in watching us humans dance around the Maypole. So Alden and I head into Faunwood together, arm in arm, boots crunching down Brookside Road.

I’m wearing my special Beltane dress, the one I’ve been working on for weeks, and I keep running my palm across the lace adornments and hand-stitched embroidery, proud of myself for having accomplished such a sewing project. My long green skirt brushes across the foliage as I walk, and the beautiful silver earrings Alden bought me at the Ostara festival dangle from my earlobes, sending prisms of light dancing all around when I step through beams of sun.

“You look beautiful,” Alden says, gazing down at me as we walk.

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “So do you.”

His laughter is hearty and buoyant. When I first met him, it was difficult to get him to smile, let alone laugh. He’s still the quiet sort, and there are evenings when he sits before the fire for long hours, lost in his own mind or whittling projects. But unlike those early days of spring, he now shares his smiles with me easily, and his laughter has become an accompaniment to my life here in the village.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they picked you as the May Queen.” Alden snags a lock of my long green hair and twists it about his finger.

I’ve been to many Beltane festivals in my life and have seen countless May Queens lead the dances around the bonfire and be pursued by the Horned God. I admit, it would be an honor to play such a role.

“Will you be my Horned God, then?” I ask Alden, tipping my head back to regard him.

There his laugh is again. “I don’t know about that. I agreed to a Maypole dance, but otherwise you’ll find me at the mead table.”

Twisting my lips into a pout, I take his bulky arm in both of mine and cuddle up beside him as we walk. “Then who would chase me around the fire?”

“Another lucky man, I suppose.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and we walk the rest of the way to Faunwood in the peaceful summer air.

As with the Ostara festival, Faunwood has been transformed. Flowers decorate the tiny buildings lining the cobblestone streets, and brightly colored ribbons hang from the boughs of the trees growing all around the village. There’s a feeling of hope in the air, of energy and light and prosperity. I tip my head back and breathe it all in, let the power of the sun wash over me.

“Look there,” Alden says, lifting a hand to point.

I follow his finger with my gaze and gasp.

“The Maypole!”

Hand still wrapped around his arm, I drag him along—or at least attempt to—and he obliges me with a good-natured chuckle.

The Maypole has been erected in the town square. It stands tall and proud, casting a shadow down over the cobblestones. Flowers ring the top, and bright ribbons hang from it, billowing in the breeze, waiting for the dance to begin. The very sight of it fills me with joy and excitement.

“Alden, Aurora,” says a gentle voice from behind us, and we both turn to find two of the village elders standing there.

“Liora.” Alden nods his head. “Bram.”

“Happy Beltane,” Liora says. She’s wearing a lightweight red cotton dress, and her arm is ringed in flower crowns. “For you, Aurora.”

Removing a yellow flower crown from her arm, she gestures for me to step forward. I do so, and when I lower my head before her, she slips the crown gently over my hair.

“Beautiful,” she says.

“Thank you.” Reaching up, I run my fingers over the silky petals. When Liora smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkle merrily.

“The Maypole dance will begin soon,” Bram says, hands clasped behind his back. “Will you be joining us?”

“Yes!” I nearly squeal. The elders and Alden laugh. “We both will. Right?” My gaze goes to Alden, and he gives a single nod.

Bram lifts his bushy gray brows. “I’m surprised, Mr. Stonewood. It’s been many years since you partook.”

“Believe me,” Alden says, running a hand over his beard, “no one is as surprised as I am.”

“It’s wonderful to see, dear.” Liora reaches up to place a weathered hand on Alden’s cheek. “You deserve to be happy.”

She pats his cheek, and beneath her hand, his face goes a very subtle shade of red, though it’s hard to see through his warm-brown skin. I keep my giggle to myself.

With smiles and parting words, the elders drift off to hand out more flower crowns. When they’ve gone, I turn to Alden.

“So, do I make you happy?” I ask.

He takes me by the hand and twirls me in a circle, making my green skirt flare around my legs. Then he pulls me in for a kiss that tastes of honey and mint and whispers into my ear, “What do you think?”