Chapter 26
Marina
As unique as the scenery is, I worry I might be going in circles.
The inlets of land are surrounded by marshy waters, where people of all kinds swim or perch on ledges to listen to the music.
I’ve never been religious. My aunt and uncle didn’t go to church, and I only went with Grams a few times. I was so young I only remember liking the snacks and songs, but there’s something about this that feels spiritual.
The flower-crown building stations are positioned right in the marsh, between the stages. Beautiful music, plays as faeries and creatures dive into the water and pick flowers, weaving them into crowns. I wonder when—if—Gil gets here, he’ll want to make one for me.
There must be some significance to all of this, and though it’s lost on me, the reverence isn’t.
As I walk, I’m hit by a cool breeze and watch the way people, young and old, craft their crowns in earnest. There’s so much joy, and my shoulders relax as I move through the flower-clad crowds.
I still don’t know who the “Four Sisters” are, but if I had to guess, they’re Gods in this world—and this is their celebration.
I remain on land, figuring it’s where Angel would look for me, watching a large bumble-bee looking creature weave a crown of delicate sunflowers, next to a Gillarian who takes their time crafting a crown of sea moss and blue bells.
When they’ve finished the pair grin at each other, kissing softly, before heading hand and hand into the water.
Come to think of it, there was a photo in Gil’s childhood scrapbook that looked something like this; he and Magnus wearing simple crowns made of weeds, grinning from ear-to-ear. From the snapshot, I wouldn’t have guessed it was something of this scale.
It’s like a magical Coachella. I drift from stage to stage pulled in the direction of the music.
A creature with wings and a beak strokes the strings of an ivory harp, their opal eyes half-lidded and their expression serene.
A man sits perched in a tree that sprouts from the water, playing a flute; his song wraps around my ears like a hug and has everyone swaying in tandem.
So, I wander, watch, and sway while the sun creeps higher in the sky, giant reeds casting strange shadows on the ground.
“—come my mortal queens, lay your head to rest—”
My head snaps in the direction of the singer.
Then, as if my legs have a mind of their own, I move toward the melodic voice.
A few faces in the crowd roll their eyes and scoff.
Others laugh. I can’t understand why; all I want to do is edge closer and listen to the violin that now strikes up a slow rhythm.
“Come my little doves, why won’t you fly into my nest, run into my shadows, run into this dream? Never mind the shine of teeth in the night. They gleam, sharp and wild. Oh, do be brave—don’t you know you’re safe with me?”
The sudden urge to dance pulls at my limbs, the lyrics an invisible vine wrapped around my throat. The feeling drags me closer, and closer, until—
A hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“There you are,” a deep voice rumbles. It’s not Angel, nor Gil for that matter. They bend close, their deep voice in my ear. I summon enough self-control to meet Magnus’s steely gaze. In his pale, clawed hands he holds two flower crowns.
He must be here with someone.
I must have made a worse impression than I thought; there’s a deadly look in his eyes. I greet him, I think.
If I could just get closer to the stage…
“Marina.” His voice is an ugly hiss in contrast to the lovely music. But there’s an urgency that causes me to nod, which turns into a bobble to a new bassline.
Beautiful.
“Don’t move,” the vampire king orders, placing a flower crown upon my head, and something soft like cotton covers my ears. Ear plugs? I reach up and inspect my new accessories.
“Why—” I begin, but then my dancing limbs are suddenly heavy. As my body stills, my stomach twists like I’ve downed a glass of champagne. Shaking, I glance toward the stage. I’ve always thought music had its own kind of power, but this? This was more than a feeling in my chest.
Magic.
I flush, allowing Magnus to lead me away from the stages, toward the concessions.
“What in Goddess’s name was he thinking, leaving you alone?” he mutters quietly, pinning me protectively to his side. “Are you alright?”
“It’s not his fault!” I say, suddenly defensive. “He… well, Angel and… it’s a long story. What was that?”
“A song of old—there are a few, like that one—designed to lure humans to our arms.”
That sounds … bad.
“What would have happened if they found out … that I’m a human?”
“Curiosity—which can be harmless or deadly, depending on who wields it,” he says, his fangs exposed as he offers me a smile. I’m unsure if it’s supposed to be threatening or reassuring. “Gil would have my head if I sat back and let you dance until you died.”
“What?”
“Relax, it barely happens. Not anymore, at least.” He fixes the flowers in my hair. “At least now you blend in.”
“Are you always at the right place at the right time?”
He smiles boyishly, though there’s something disconcerting about it. “My dear, I do not think anyone has ever expressed that sentiment about me.” If I’m not mistaken, he’s standing taller. “I happened to be passing through for my blessing.”
“A blessing?” I ask, reaching up to touch the flowers on my head. “Does it have something to do with these?”
His smile wanes as he nods, offering me his arm. “It does,” he says, blowing out a breath. “I had hoped to be at the festival with someone. Hence my provisions for mortal ears, but alas.”
“You got … stood up?” If I’m remembering correctly, Gil mentioned this guy is a king, and despite not being my type, he’s definitely attractive.
I wonder what the catch is.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—or assumed,” I ramble, realizing this is Gil’s best friend. I should still be focusing on making a good first impression.
He looks at me sadly, his lavender eyes heavy. “At least it has not gone to waste—now!”
My arm in his, he pivots toward the marsh. “Gil’s family celebrates at the same pavilion each year. Come, I’ll take you to them.”
“And on the way, you can tell me some stories about you and Gil growing up together?” I ask hopefully. As silly and jealous as I felt last night, it would be nice to have someone fill in the gaps.
His lips curl into a devilish grin. “Then allow me to think of something that will utterly embarrass him.”
Magnus’s stories are more endearing than they are embarrassing.
In fact, it seems the pair got into a fair amount of trouble as kids, like the time they set frogs loose in a grand ballroom.
Apparently, Magnus was living in a castle in the Dragonfly Court, a place filled with faeries—and his disapproving mother.
She sounds like she’d have a lot in common with Aunt Andrea.
Truthfully, I hear more stories about the vampire king than I do about Gil, but one thing is certain: my new boyfriend is a good friend and not just to me.
Now, I understand more than ever why Magnus is constantly barging into Gil’s life. I don’t blame him. If this place hadn’t been a world away, I would have been doing the same thing all these years.
It seems lonely people have a way of latching onto Gil.
If he were here, I think we’d both be more comfortable.
“He’s never stopped hoping to find you, I hope you know that,” Magnus says, not meeting my eyes. He’s focused on a musician in the distance, playing a large harp that appears to be made of flowers and vines. “All the stories I have of Gil include him wishing you were here too.”
As happy as that makes me, it also feels like … pressure. God knows I’m not perfect. What if I can’t live up to the ideal that’s in his head?
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“Huh?” I ask, distracted by a large band of bee-creatures playing a variety of strange instruments I can’t quite figure out.
“Nothing,” he says with a low chuckle, letting go of my arm. “It has been a pleasure escorting you. You’ll find Gil’s family in the pavilion up ahead.”
“You’re not coming?” I ask. “From what Gil’s said, you’re like … a second brother.” And honestly, walking up there by myself feels awkward. I don’t see Angel anywhere, and it’s not like they’re expecting me.
“No,” he says with a sad shake of his head. I try to follow his gaze and see a group of older-looking Gillarians watching us, their eyebrows furrowed. “Not everyone thinks traveling between realms for romance is the smartest way to make a match—more importantly, my cat awaits.”
I gulp. “You’re really going to leave after telling me that?”
“Ah, yes, how very inconsiderate of me.” The vampire pauses, retrieving a phone from his pocket and showing me an adorable calico dramatically posed for a photo on his lockscreen.
And while I’d never object to seeing pictures of a fluffy animal, that isn’t the part of his statement I’d been fixating on.
“Alright, well,” I trail off, trying not to let my nerves settle in. “Hopefully, we can all hang out soon,” I say, touching my flowers. “And thank you for the cat pictures and for not letting me dance to my death.”
“It was my pleasure, Marina,” Magnus says with a small bow. He disappears into the crowd, faeries whispering and giggling as they part to make way for him.
Why does this guy need to go to the mortal realm to find a date again? It seems like plenty of people would be interested. I touch the flowers on my head, glad we ran into each other.
“Was that scamp of a vampire bothering you?” a voice asks, and I turn to find a woman.
She’s tall with iridescent scales across her body.
Her head is covered in flowers of every color—beautiful, albeit haphazard, like it was made by a child—or many children, given the flood of guppies underfoot.
They giggle with bright smiles and scales before widening their eyes at me and running off.