Chapter Two
Two
Nina had put approximately one million hairpins in my head this morning. About a half million of them were out now, clenched in my fist as I stalked to the Hollow. It wasn’t unheard of to duck back to our little getting-ready spot to refresh our look, or to just take a breather if it was a hot day.
This was more than a breather. I was done. Faire may have only started less than an hour ago, but I was getting unready.
I’d left Emily and Toby in the dust. Queens couldn’t hurry, remember?
And she’d been stuck, back there at that Shakespeare show, smiling and waving.
And Toby had been stuck by her side, with his sword and his make way for the Queen crap.
It was a big deal when the Queen dropped by to see your show, and she had to play it up.
And so did Alex, since he was the one onstage.
They could all go to hell as far as I was concerned.
I plucked out another hairpin, adding it to the fistful.
The tiara lurched sideways over my left ear, the tug at my hair telling me that there were still a few pins left to go.
That was fine. I was almost to the Hollow.
I could get the hell out of this ridiculous outfit and go home.
They didn’t hold up their end of the bargain, and so I was done.
I hurried past the food court area and took a sharp left, slipping between some trees and along a path that led off down the hill, toward a little valley. The Hollow. Backstage. Safety.
There wasn’t much down here—a couple of changing tents with some card tables and folding chairs outside.
There was an old stage down here, but there weren’t any shows here anymore, as the whole clearing had been turned into the cast break area.
I slammed my handful of pins onto a table, and a stray lipstick rolled off into the dirt as I dug into my hair, finding the last of the pins and pulling at the tiara once it was free.
One of the little gems in the tiara tangled in my curls and it hurt as I yanked at it, but I liked the sting.
I was pissed off, and the pain gave me an outlet, something to be mad at.
“Dammit!” I pulled harder and the tiara came free, taking a snarl of hair with it. Whatever. I tossed it to the table, and it scattered pins in its wake.
“Caitlin!” I heard a woman’s voice calling from the top of the hill, but I ignored it.
Instead I reached behind me. My dress laced up the back, and the strings were double-knotted, intended for someone at the end of the day to help get me out of this dress.
But it was just me now. I picked at the knot with my fingernails, resisting the urge to yank. That would just make it worse.
“Caitlin!” The voice was nearer now, and I chanced a glance over my shoulder, pressing my lips together to contain my sigh as I watched Emily’s best friend, Stacey, trip her way down the hill toward the Hollow.
“Don’t start with me, Stacey. I don’t want to hear it.” I refocused my attention on my strings; I almost had the knot undone.
“Emily sent me to come get you.” She pressed one hand to her stomach, breathing hard from her apparent pursuit of me.
She was just as laced up as I was; breathing hard wasn’t an easy thing to do in these getups.
Once she caught her breath, she tilted her head to one side. “What are you doing? Laces too tight?”
“No. Well, yeah, but…” Finally the knot came free and I clawed at the strings on my back.
That first deep breath felt cool and sweet, like a drink of fresh water.
Come to think of it, I could use some of that too.
I ducked into the tent and dug in one of the coolers that were full of water and sports drinks. “You need water?”
“No,” Stacey said. “I need to bring you back up to the Chaucer Stage. Emily needs you.”
I felt a stab of guilt at this. Emily did need me. Wasn’t that why they’d called me out of retirement? Too bad. They could get another lady-in-waiting. She was going to have to, wasn’t she? She broke our deal.
“She’s got Toby,” I said. “They’ll be fine.” I emerged from the tent, two dripping bottles of water in my hands. Despite Stacey’s refusal, I pushed one into her hand. It was July in Maryland; we all needed to hydrate when we could.
She looked sympathetic as she twisted the plastic cap, cracking open the bottle. I pressed the bottle to the back of my neck first, closing my eyes in bliss. I imagined the coldness running through my veins, cooling my blood. That probably wasn’t how it worked, but I didn’t know crap about biology.
“Look,” Stacey said, “I know this is hard for you.”
“You do?” I looked up sharply. How did she…
She waved a hand as she took a long swig of water.
“Okay, no, I don’t. But I’m not stupid.” She screwed the cap back on and did the same back-of-the-neck trick I did, one hand lifting her long blond hair out of the way.
“Something’s kept you away from the Faire all these years.
It used to be your favorite thing when you were younger. ”
“Yeah. Used to be.” I scowled against the tears that sprang to my eyes at the memory.
I’d been so young and carefree then. Not that twenty-four was old.
Why did I feel ancient as dirt? It was the heat, I told myself.
Anyone can feel a hundred and fifty when you’re sweating your ass off in a heavy costume.
“Well, come on. Let’s put your dress back on and get you out there. The show must go on and all that. Whatever Emily did to piss you off, you can yell at her later.”
I didn’t want to put my dress back on. I didn’t want to get back out there. But somehow I was turning around, letting Stacey retighten the strings of my back-laced gown. I let her rearrange my hair into a semblance of style and replace my tiara.
“There.” She stepped back, looking me over with a critical eye. Then she dug in her belt pouch and pulled out a tube of pink lip gloss. “Put that on.”
I gave the tube a critical eye of my own. “Did Simon approve this stuff?” It didn’t look period at all.
But Stacey gave an unconcerned shrug. “He’s not my boss anymore.”
He was still mine, but screw it. I was feeling rebellious. I ducked down awkwardly to see myself in a mirror that had been left propped up on the table. The lip gloss matched my dress exactly. How did she do that? I tried to hand it back to her, but she refused. “Keep it. It looks better on you.”
I shot her a glare even as I stashed the tube in my belt pouch. “You can’t bribe me with lip gloss. I’m not going anywhere near the Chaucer Stage.” Like that was the solution. It was ridiculous, thinking I could avoid Alex by avoiding his stage.
“You’re right,” Stacey said. “We’re not.” She looped my arm through hers and patted my hand. “It’s almost time for the chess match. Let’s go see that. Then we can catch the Dueling Kilts’ next set. Emily can do without you for a bit.”
“Quit trying to cheer me up,” I said as she pulled me up the hill. “It’s not going to work.” It was totally working.
“I’m not trying to cheer you up,” she said, all innocence behind those big brown eyes. She was totally trying to cheer me up. “I just need you to keep me company. I’ve missed you!”
That brought a smile, the first one I’d had since seeing Alex up there onstage.
Stacey had been a fixture in my life during my teenage years, and not just because she was Emily’s bestie.
Before her tavern wench days, Stacey had been a singer, and during the years I’d spent singing here at the Faire, she’d been my own private vocal coach.
She always radiated joy and confidence, making me feel confident in return—something that had translated over into my adult life.
Whenever I was nervous about something, I’d ask myself, What would Stacey Lindholm do?
Well, she was Stacey MacLean now—a little gold ring shone on the wedding finger of her left hand.
She’d been traveling the renaissance faire circuit with the band the Dueling Kilts since I was in high school, and she and the band’s manager had gotten married a few years ago.
I couldn’t remember exactly when—Mom had emailed me when it had happened, sometime when I was in college?
Time had been a little blurry in those days.
Anyway. She was right. Nothing wrong with letting myself experience a little joy. So I hugged her arm back. “I’ve missed you too.”
We strolled, arm in arm, just two renaissance faire girlies in costume and enjoying life, down a side lane (very pointedly away from the Chaucer Stage) to the chess field.
We were just in time. The players had started to gather on the open field, taking their positions on the squares that were alternately painted white or left bare.
Queen Emily stood on a small, raised platform at the other end of the field, in her role as one of the people “playing” the rehearsed chess game, where she instructed the pieces where to go.
She caught our eye, but Stacey gave a headshake, her blond hair bouncing, and Em gave a subtle nod in return.
I wasn’t in trouble, then. I was more relieved than someone in their twenties should have been.
As the human combat chess match began, I let myself focus on the show, feeling my blood pressure settle.
Watching the match was like stepping back in time.
Jeremy was much better with the quarterstaff these days; watching him wield it now I remembered all the times he’d bonked himself in the head with it during those Saturday rehearsals.
He and I had never really been friends. He’d been a senior when I was a freshman, but we’d all been equal during ren faire rehearsals, those magical Saturdays at Willow Creek High where there was singing in the hallways and sword fights out back near the football field.
Those had been some of the best times of my life. How had I let it all be ruined for me?