Chapter 3
Y irrie was known for her breads. Every year, she made more than a dozen loaves of different kinds—from acorn bread to oat cakes to their traditional elven bread. She was also known for her mini vegetable pies. Over the years, she’d taught Snow how to bake them.
It wasn’t the only thing her elven family taught her, though. Even at the age of eight, Snow had the ability to connect to nature around her. It was the reason she managed to survive that first night alone. She had conjured a bed out of leaves and vines and conversed with the local wildlife, asking them to keep her safe. At the time, she didn’t know about the sprites who made the forest their home or even the elves who dwelled deep in their tree village.
By the second night, she made her way deeper into the forest. She’d made friends with a squirrel and an owl who followed her on her trek through the trees. By nightfall, exhausted and hungry, she made another bed at the foot of a tree. Faradill.
The next morning, Yirrie found her. To this day, she wondered if the ancient tree had something to do with that. He had never told her, but it seemed fitting that he would call to the elves and beseech them on her behalf.
Yirrie and Elator took her in. And though she already had elemental magic, they taught her how to hone and use it. Yirrie herself was connected to the earth. She could grow anything from the tiniest seed. That’s why her vegetables pies were so unforgettable.
All of this crossed Snow’s mind as she kneaded the bread, then placed it in a bowl to rise. Why she remembered it now, she didn’t know. It was almost as though she sensed something. Perhaps it was merely a feeling deep in the pit of her gut. A feeling that told her everything was about to change. That her peaceful existence would be no more.
It didn’t help the Springtide Festival loomed ahead of her. Most of the elves accepted her as one of their own. There were a few who didn’t. Her stomach was a mess of butterflies at the thought of a romantic pursuit. She was content to live with Yirrie and Elator for these last ten years. But now, at eighteen, the expectation was that she was to find a mate. It was, after all, the elven custom.
“Snow, dear, are you all right?”
Yirrie’s question snapped her out of her thoughts. She realized she still held a ball of dough in her hands and had yet to knead it.
“Oh. Yes. I’m fine.”
Yirrie glanced at her askance as she slipped the dough from her hands. “You look tired. You spent most of the night in the forest, didn’t you?”
Guilt washed over her as she wiped her hands on a blue and white kitchen towel. She pressed her lips together trying to decide how to answer.
“You don’t have to answer. I know the truth of it.” She gave her a surreptitious wink.
Snow blew out a breath. “I was. I’m sorry, Yirrie. The moon was so bright and full and it was hard to resist. It was a perfect evening. The forest was quiet except for a few of the nocturnal creatures.”
“I think you’re a bit nocturnal yourself,” Yirrie said, good-naturedly. She placed the dough on the counter and started to knead it. “Are you sure it’s safe for you out there?”
When Yirrie and Elator found her at the foot of Faradill, she had told them she’d run away from home. That she was no longer wanted by her family. She had never told them she came from the castle and was, in fact, the princess and heir to the Mystic Vale throne. Yirrie often worried her family would eventually come looking for her and force her to return with them.
But Snow knew differently. Seraphina wasn’t interested in her return since she was ruling the kingdom now. She wouldn’t send anyone to come looking for her, so she felt safe deep within the forest. And Snow had no interest in returning to dethrone her stepmother.
Perhaps her need to visit the forest last night stemmed from the knowledge it was the anniversary of her father’s death. She found solace in the night sounds around her.
“It’s perfectly safe,” she answered at last.
Yirrie’s pinched expression, though, said she still worried about her.
“Besides,” Snow continued, “I have all the forest to protect me.” She gave her a reassuring smile. “Faradill and Annilen and all the others.”
Yirrie finished kneading the bread and put it in a bowl next to the others to rise. Then she turned to the oven and pulled out her tray of a dozen mini pies. The delectable smell of vegetable pie permeated the small kitchen making Snow’s stomach grumble. Her mother placed the tray of pies on the counter and then turned to her, taking her by the shoulders and looking deep into her eyes.
“I do worry,” she said.
“I know, but there’s nothing to worry about.” Even as she said it, that niggling sensation shifted through her. She shoved it away almost as quickly as it appeared. “I promise.”
Her surrogate mother patted her cheek and gave her a small smile. “If you’re certain.”
A quick knock sounded on the door. Yirrie used the same kitchen towel to wipe her hands.
“That must be Zaliya with our gowns.”
She bustled to the door, Snow right behind her. When she pulled it open, there was the dressmaker on the other side holding the two gowns draped across her arms.
“All finished!” the woman announced, her face beaming. She handed the gowns to Yirrie. “It’s some of my best work, if I do say so myself.” Then she gave a chuckle.
“The gowns are perfect,” Yirrie said. She handed them off to Snow.
“Snow will be one of the loveliest maidens at the festival.” Then she waved and was off.
Snow flushed hot. The last thing she wanted was to be one of the loveliest maidens at the festival. The other elven girls were not so impressed with her elemental magic or the fact she was actually human. She hadn’t many friends. And it was why she chose to spend her time among the forest sprites and creatures rather than forge friendships with them. Perhaps that was another reason why her nerves were suddenly on edge. The first night of the festival was when elven girls would seek out the attentions of the eligible boys.
“Oh, goodness. It’s getting late. I best get the rest of the bread in the oven.” Yirrie hurried back into the kitchen. “Snow, will you take care of the gowns?”
“Yes, of course.”
With slow steps, she headed first to her mother’s bedroom and laid out the gown on the bed. Then she went to her own. She draped the gown over the back of her dressing table chair and stared at it, her gut churning. As dread swept through her, she pressed a hand against her stomach.
The front door opened and closed with a bang, then Elator’s boisterous voice called out to his wife. He said something that made Yirrie laugh and then chastised him for sneaking one of her pies. His booted footsteps headed toward the bedroom but he paused to stand in her doorway.
Elator was tall and elegant like Yirrie. And like Yirrie, he wore his long brown hair with two plaits on either side of his head. Sometimes, they were pulled back away from his face. His blue luminescent eyes sparkled with life and mirth. He had a big, booming laugh and a voice to match which was sometimes strange coming from him.
“Are you ready for the festival?” he asked.
She dropped a hand and forced a smile, watching him take another bite of the small pie. Crumbs trickled down from his hand to the floor. When Yirrie saw, she would fuss at him as she grabbed the broom.
“I am,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she believed it.
“You look worried,” he said.
Elator was always able to read her emotions, even though she tried her best to keep them off her face and bury them deep down.
“I’m not,” she replied.
One dark brow raised in question. Snow puffed out a heated breath.
“All right. I am a little.”
“Why?”
“It’s just that…the first night of the festival is the night where—” She clamped her mouth shut before she said what she was thinking.
“Where a girl is chosen?” he finished for her.
Her shoulders slumping, she nodded.
“And you’re worried about that?” he asked.
“A little.”
He gave her a smile. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. You are a lovely vision. Any elven man—”
“That’s just it, Elator. I’m not an elf.”
That never mattered to Elator or Yirrie, but Snow worried it would matter to others. He popped the rest of the pie in his mouth, brushed the crumbs from his hands, and gave her a thoughtful look as he chewed.
“You’re right. You’re not. But that doesn’t matter to any of us here.”
It mattered to her, though. Elator stepped into her room and gave her a peck on the cheek, then granted her a smile. He said nothing more as he left her room and headed to his own to prepare for the festival.
Heaving a sigh, she perched on the edge of her bed and eyed the gown with increasing trepidation. As much as she wanted, she could not avoid the Springtide Festival. She moved to her bedroom door and closed it so she could change. As she paused there in the middle of her room, she eyed the window, longing for escape.
It was not an option. Taking a deep breath, she began to dress.