Chapter 5

Aurora

THE CEREMONY IS PERFECT, JUST like we planned. Lydia and James stand beneath an arch of branches overflowing with summer flowers, and as they whisper their vows to each other, Faunwood’s oracle, Niamh, binds their hands with three cords.

Lydia is draped in a loose-fitting white cotton dress, and she’s still wearing the white flower crown over her curly dark hair.

James gazes at her like she’s all he can see, like the rest of us don’t even exist.

“May your love be as enduring as the stars,” Niamh says after tying the first knot, “as deep as the ocean”—she ties the second—“and as boundless as the sky.” With the knots tied, she holds up her hands, silver bracelets gleaming against her dark skin. “May these binds symbolize both your strength and your softness. May you find joy in each other’s presence, comfort in each other’s embrace, and wisdom in each other’s counsel.” She smiles warmly at Lydia, then at James. “Congratulations.”

They turn and lift their bound hands, and everyone gathered for the ceremony claps. Beside me, Alden stands tall and strong, sturdy enough to withstand a winter storm, but I don’t miss the glassiness in his dark eyes. One tear slips down his cheek, and I lift a hand to wipe it gently away. He catches my hand in his and holds it to his cheek, then presses a kiss to my palm.

As Niamh ends the ceremony, villagers surge forward, surrounding Lydia and James, wrapping them in warm embraces and well-wishes. Alden and I linger at the back of the crowd; there’s no rush, and we’ll have plenty of time to celebrate the union later. I even baked those lemon cookies Lydia enjoys so much.

“How do you feel?” Alden asks, a playful tilt to his mouth as he smiles down at me.

The bubbly sensation from the strawberry wine hasn’t quite worn off, but now that Rowan’s nowhere to be seen, I feel like my feet are once more rooted to the ground.

“Perfect,” I say, easing into Alden’s arms and pressing my body against his. “I’m so glad it didn’t rain. Lydia was worried about that.”

“Thank you for helping her.”

“Of course.” I pull back slightly to look up at him. “She feels like a sister to me...”

My cheeks heat up a bit at the implication.

Alden leans down, hands rising to cradle my face, and his lips taste like mead and strawberry wine when he touches them to mine. The kiss makes my head spin. It makes me hungry for him.

I let my tongue brush along Alden’s lower lip. Heat curls low in my belly. But before I can grab Alden’s hand and drag him into the woods to finish what we started this morning, someone clears their throat.

I break away from the kiss to find Liora standing there, hands clasped before her, a little smile on her weathered mouth. Her long silver hair is pulled back in a single braid, and she has a flower tucked behind her ear. The flower crowns she had looped around her arm earlier are gone, dispersed amongst the women in the village.

“A beautiful ceremony,” she says.

Alden nods once in agreement, and beside him, I almost giggle. Guess the wine is still twirling through my veins.

Liora’s pale eyes find mine, and her smile grows. “Aurora Silvermoon, niece of Lilith Silvermoon, we have a request of you.”

Her words make me freeze, and my heart leaps. Could it be...?

“Will you, my dear, do us the honor of being our May Queen?”

Excitement bubbles inside me, and I can’t stop a grin from spreading across my lips.

“Me?” I whisper. I’ve watched many Maypole dances and bonfire celebrations, have dreamed of one day leading the Great Rite, but I never thought it would actually happen to me. “Are you sure?”

Liora laughs, then holds out a wrinkled hand. A band of braided flowers encircles her thin wrist, and I wonder if one of her grandchildren wove it for her. “We’re sure. Do you accept?”

Eyes wide, I look up at Alden, and he gives me an encouraging nod. My gaze shifts once more to Liora.

“I accept,” I say. My hand trembles slightly as I slip it into hers, and then she’s leading me away, and I glance back once to smile at Alden before he’s swallowed up by the crowd.

“YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL.” A YOUNG girl stands beside me, eyes wide and sparkling.

Women and girls of the village are gathered in the small tent, and they’ve all played a part in helping to prepare me for the Great Rite. My hair, loose and hanging about my shoulders, has been decorated with summer flowers, and a white cotton dress has replaced my green one.

Behind me, the tent flap opens, and Niamh steps in, accompanied by the chiming of the bells tied about her waist. I turn from the mirror to face her, and she smiles down at me.

“Aurora. It’s so wonderful to see you again.” She wraps me in a hug that smells of sage and myrrh.

“You remember me?” I ask as I pull away. The last time I was here with my auntie, I was but a child. I didn’t expect the oracle to remember the little green-haired girl who watched wide-eyed as she performed her rituals.

Niamh laughs and squeezes my bare arms. “Of course I remember you. Lilith and I were good friends, you know.” Her smile softens. “She loves you dearly, as much in death as in life.”

Tears spring to my eyes, and Niamh reaches up to wipe them away with the pads of her thumbs.

“There’s no need to cry, my dear. Death is but a transition, the end of one thing so that another may begin.”

I nod and take a deep breath, and my tears slow. “I understand.”

Niamh clasps her hands and takes a step back. Her dark gaze sweeps up and down my body, and she smiles. “Do you know the importance of the Great Rite?” she asks.

Her presence draws the other women in, and they all circle around her, skirts swishing, floral scents accompanying every move.

I know well the meaning of the Great Rite, but I never tire of hearing the stories. “It represents the union of the May Queen and the Horned God,” I say, glancing down at the young girls as they cling to every word. It feels like just yesterday I was that innocent, watching the May Queen prepare for the dance around the bonfire. It’s hard to believe I’m the one who’ll now be leading the procession.

“Indeed. It’s a union of the divine feminine and the divine masculine, a sacred marriage.” Niamh reaches to her waist and removes one of the silver bells tied there. With gentle hands, she begins braiding the bell into my hair. “But you know that marriage need not be consummated,” she says, her voice slightly lower now so that only I can hear. She pulls away from me, lips quirking up on one side. “Unless it is desired, of course.”

My cheeks flame with heat. I’ve seen May Queens captured by Horned Gods and swept away to make love in the trees as night falls. I can’t say I haven’t fantasized about it myself. But unless Alden is selected as the Horned God, I certainly won’t be partaking.

“I understand,” I say, trying to banish the blush from my cheeks. “Thank you, Oracle.”

“And whatever you choose to do, remember that there is magic in Beltane. You never know what tricks Brigid might have up her sleeve.” She touches my cheek, and the caress reminds me of Auntie. With a smile, she steps back, long black hair shifting around her waist. “If you’re ready, we may begin.”