Chapter One #2
“You ready?” Emily turned to me, and wow, okay. She looked pretty barfy. I could see now why they’d been desperate to get me to walk with her. Right now, I didn’t trust the Queen in front of me to find her way to the front gate.
I didn’t want to be here, but despite everything, she was my aunt. She’d been there for me countless times over the years, and right now she needed me. That was what was most important.
“Ready,” I said.
Together, we left the Hollow—the backstage area where the local cast of the Faire got their corsets laced and hair braided, sword belts buckled on and boots tied.
Toby took the lead, and I fell into step just behind and to the side.
As we walked up the hill toward the food court area, on the way to the front gate, Emily tripped more than once over her too-long skirts, reaching for my arm for support.
“I don’t know how Chris did this every summer,” she muttered under her breath.
“The dress fit her, for one thing.” I frowned as I helped her regain her balance; now that I got a good look at her in all her queenly glory, I could tell that the whole costume fit like crap.
Not only were the skirts too long, but I could also see that she was shifting around inside the bodice.
Miss Chris was almost as tall as I was, and we both had a good five inches on Emily. She was swimming in that outfit.
“I know.” Emily heaved a sigh, and the dress heaved with her, rising and falling around her tiny frame. “Your mom helped with the hem, but we really didn’t have time to do any good alterations. I kept hoping someone else would do this.” She gave me a side-eye. “You’d make a good Queen.”
But I would not be intimidated. “No way in hell. I’m here, and I’m in costume. That’s it.”
“No, you’re right.” She hugged my arm. “And this is a huge help. If you can keep me on task today, you’ll be a lifesaver.”
Emily paused as we got to the top of the hill, and I watched the shift as she got into character. I knew this moment; even though it had been years since I’d played a character, it had stuck with me all this time. Here at the top of the hill we all paused, took a breath, and became someone else.
Every cast member of the Willow Creek Renaissance Faire had a role to play, a persona to put on like a well-worn pair of jeans.
A lot of them, like my Uncle Simon—Emily’s husband, who’s been running this Faire for as long as I can remember—play the same character year after year, so they’re really able to get into it.
Simon refined his pirate persona in lots of little ways during the years I was part of this Faire, and he’d done even more in the years I was gone.
His boots this year were new, and so were his leather pants.
Wouldn’t he be more comfortable in something more sensible?
How he’d never gotten heatstroke all these years was beyond me.
I tugged a little at the bodice of my pink gown, which was of course the opposite of sensible. Fourteen-year-old me had fallen in love with this dress the moment she’d put it on, parading around like a fairy princess and twirling at every opportunity.
But twenty-four-year-old Caitlin Parker didn’t believe in fairy tales. Not anymore.
—
Her shift into character complete, Emily squared her shoulders, and her smile turned placid. Calm. A still pool of water begging for a stone to be dropped in, just to see the ripples. Sure, my aunt was still in there, but she had now fully become a Queen.
My own easygoing smile felt pasted on in comparison, but I fell into step behind her as we neared the front gate.
“Make way for the Queen!” Toby’s bellow was impressive as he strode ahead of us, brandishing his gigantic prop halberd.
He was good at this whole royal guard schtick.
The crowd of patrons gathered at the front gate cheered as they saw us coming; I’d forgotten that heady feeling of being in the Queen’s entourage.
Those cheers faltered, though, when Toby stepped aside to reveal Emily as Queen.
More than one person looked wide-eyed at us, and even though the cheering resumed, a low hum of murmuring spread through the crowd.
Emily raised her hands in greeting, and the crowd fell silent; the air was thick with anticipation.
Anxiety prickled along the back of my neck as I glanced over at Toby; that same concern was reflected in his eyes.
Miss Chris as Queen was a tradition that people had come to rely on year after year, and now tradition had changed. People didn’t like change, as a rule.
“Good people!” There was a wobble in Emily’s voice; it was too loud and too thin. I remembered too late that she had terrible stage fright. Oh, no. I clasped my hands together hard, hiding them in the folds of my dress. Maybe I should have agreed to be Queen after all.
But she took a breath and tried again.
“Good people!” Now her voice was steadier, her accent impeccable.
“It does my heart a world of good to greet you on this day, here at the site of our yearly revels. I welcome you here, and as you pass through these gates, I bid you to leave your cares behind. For this is a place of joy, a place to savor the sweet things in life, be it music, food, drink, or the words of the Bard himself. Worldly concerns are for tomorrow, for today is for pleasure. Guards, I command you to open the gates, and let this festival day begin!”
As she finished her little speech a cheer went up, started of course by those in the cast who knew their cue, and taken up by the patrons around us. I chimed in with a hearty huzzah! of my own, and even though it had been years since I’d heard this speech, it was as familiar as my own heartbeat.
The gate was opened (okay, the rope was unhooked from the entrance, this wasn’t a big operation) and patrons—some in costume and some not—started streaming in. They bowed and curtsied to Emily as they walked by us, and I gave deep nods of acknowledgment from my position.
“Welcome,” my aunt the Queen said. “Welcome. Welcome! Enjoy the day.” Her smile was bright and eager, her eyes sparkling. She was a gorgeous monarch in her prime, looking as though she’d been born to the throne.
Once the main crowd had passed through the gates, her smile coasted down a fraction as we fell in step to enter the Faire ourselves.
“What do you think?” Emily leaned in toward me, dropping her accent and attitude and muttering under her breath. “Did I do okay?”
“Nailed it,” I murmured back.
Our morning stroll through the lanes of the Faire was slow going.
When I’d been cast as a lady-in-waiting way back when, I’d been so excited about my swishy pink gown that I’d forgotten some specifics about the job.
The tedium of your path being blocked by patrons wanting a photo with the Queen, the uncertain rocking back and forth when you weren’t sure if you were meant to be in the shot as well.
All with a smile on your face and heaping praise in a questionable accent.
Since the Queen this year was new, she was even more in demand than usual.
As we progressed down the lane, I caught more than one lingering look from longtime vendors and performers.
Craned necks as we passed stages, the occasional step into the lane to watch our retreating backs.
Emily playing Queen Elizabeth at the Willow Creek Renaissance Faire was a big deal. And not just to us locals.
“How are we on time?” Emily murmured after a photo op.