Chapter 2
Juniper Glade got its name from the trees that ringed the Hall of Winter. But as they made their way to the snowflake prep party that night, Periwinkle found herself staring at the huge crowd gathered beneath the trees, instead.
Periwinkle was one of the most social fairies in the Winter Woods. Tonight, though, her thoughts were already wandering back home, focused on the promise of dreaming. Not that dreaming was more important than being with her friends, awake—but because tonight might be her last chance all winter.
Would the dreaming still work on the Mainland? Or would her thoughts go still and empty again at night?
Periwinkle forced her attention from her worries back to the present and her friends. “How’s my hair?” she asked Gliss, raising her voice over the music-talents playing in the trees.
“Perfect! Both of you are perfect.” Gliss brushed Spike’s bangs to one side, then wrapped her arms around her friends. “This is going to be the best party ever.”
“You always say that,” Spike said with a laugh. But despite Periwinkle’s distraction, as the three of them flew into the trees, she wondered if Gliss might actually be right this time.
Music-talent fairies—drummers and icicle pipers and a singing-talent—stood in the space between four juniper trees.
Every tree was hung with glittering lightcatchers, icicles crafted to catch sunlight or starlight or moonlight and release it at a touch.
Winter fairies danced between the trees, laughing beneath the lightcatchers and singing along with the music-talents.
Baskets were lined up on the ground outside the circle.
“Heads up!” A whistle came from high in the branches, and hoots and cheers went up from the fairies dancing down below as the snow began to fall.
Periwinkle twirled and spun alongside Gliss and Spike, feeling like she was dancing in a snow globe as the snowflakes cartwheeled down in a curtain around the dance floor, falling from the trees into their woven baskets below.
“Periwinkle!” A light-talent fairy in a shimmering party dress flittered across the crowd and seized her hands. “It’s good to see you! I’m so glad you came!”
The fairy had luminous light brown skin, with sparkling brown eyes and pale hair she wore in two braids. And Periwinkle, to her own horror, could not remember her name.
“Of course!” Periwinkle said. She drifted with the light fairy toward the edge of the dance floor, racking her memory even as she smiled her brightest smile.
Spike and Gliss waved hello but kept dancing; they were no help at all.
“I love cheering on the snowflake-talents. How close are they to meeting their Mainland quota?”
“Well, things were going really well for a while—they were almost halfway there before a bunch of wolf pups came barreling out of the clearing into three of the baskets.” The light-talent tossed a braid over her shoulder, giving something between a grin and a grimace.
“Let’s just say we’re not there yet. But we’ve got snacks and drinks—I’m handling those—so even if it takes a while, the snowflake-talents will be able to keep their strength up. ”
“They should’ve made sure they had animal-talents around instead of musicians,” Periwinkle said, and she and the light-talent fairy broke into giggles. When they’d gotten ahold of themselves again, she asked, “What can I do? How can I help you?”
“Well, like you said, the music-talents are here. Obviously,” the other fairy said loudly, gesturing to one ear and then to the dancing crowd.
“We’ve got five or six fairies rotating out the snowflake baskets as they get full, and Lattice brought pastries over from her place in Snowlight Square.
But if you aren’t too busy to help out—because I’m sure you’ll have a hundred fairies to talk to—would you mind keeping the melted ice and winterberry juice frosty?
” She asked the question almost apologetically, shrugging her shoulders and holding up her hands.
But Periwinkle was insistent. “Of course I don’t mind!” she said. “Point me to the table and I’m there.” So when the light-talent led her across the clearing, Periwinkle followed her to the table and immediately got to work frosting the drink pitchers.
It was good to have a job to do. Even if the job meant ignoring the dishes of petits fours on the table for a few minutes. Even if some of the petits fours were caramel, and some were pumpkin, and some were pomegranate, and some were—
“Periwinkle?”
Her shoulders tensed.
She didn’t even have to look up from the table, or strain to listen over the music. Periwinkle knew who’d said her name just from the slightly dreamy expression of the light-talent still beside her.
She only shut her eyes for a second as Fletcher came around the table to her side. But it was enough to help her get control of herself as she took in his pleased smile and easy body language. “Hey, Periwinkle, Flare. It’s good to see you both.”
Flare! That was the light-talent fairy’s name. Periwinkle smiled, feeling a rush of relief—and then a trickle of misgiving when Fletcher smiled back even more broadly.
“Your hair looks cool,” he said.
Periwinkle brushed the ends of her two tiny pigtails. “Thanks. Spike did it.”
“Cool.” Fletcher bobbed his head, throat working. Flare raised her pale eyebrows at Periwinkle, who did her best to act like she didn’t notice.
“Periwinkle, could I talk to you about something?” Fletcher blurted the words out so quickly she could hardly understand them.
“Um, sure.” Periwinkle didn’t feel sure. Another batch of snowflakes tumbled down from the trees, and flurries kicked up in her stomach.
“I…” Fletcher paused. “Ah. A few of us are running through some joint techniques together out in the clearing—you know, different nature-talents practicing together. Just a last-minute thing. I thought you might be interested.”
This was not what Periwinkle had thought Fletcher was going to say. Honestly, she was pretty sure it wasn’t what Fletcher thought Fletcher was going to say.
“Oh, that’s a good idea. Have you tried putting the light-talents and the snowflake-talents to work together?” Periwinkle asked, nodding at Flare. “I bet it’s hard to deliver a snowfall in the dark.”
Fletcher glanced up at the trees. “Well, the snowflake-talents are kind of busy.”
“Right.” Periwinkle winced. “Of course.”
“But we’ve put the fast-fliers together with the animal-talents, seeing what they can do with animal scents on the wind,” he said. “Seeing if they can help them into hibernation. It seems to be working.”
“Wow.” Periwinkle was impressed. “That’s an incredible idea, Fletcher.”
“Well, now I sort of wish it was my idea.” Fletcher ducked his head, blushing a little. “Sled suggested it, though.”
“Oh!” Periwinkle nodded. “Got it.”
She pressed her lips together and tried not to wince at herself. Again.
“Fletch! Peri! Flare!” Periwinkle jumped at Sled’s voice. But she gave a sigh of relief when he chose that moment to swoop over and rescue them.
“Nice idea with the joint talent practice sessions,” she said, bumping him with her shoulder.
“Oh yeah?” he asked. “My next idea was to put the frost-talents to work with the icicle-talents. I’d be interested to see how well you guys work together.
” Sled fluffed his dark hair, cutting his eyes from Periwinkle to Fletcher and then back to Periwinkle.
There was a significant pause as both sparrow men waited for her to reply.
The music-talents kept playing, and the snowflake-talents kept working, and Periwinkle just kept staring back at Fletcher and Sled, searching for the right thing to say.
When a lightcatcher went out just over her head, it felt like a bad sign. Like—all her thoughts and ideas had disappeared, and whatever answer she gave them, it wasn’t going to be the one they wanted to hear.
She was grateful when Flare chimed in unexpectedly. “What if icicle-talents team up with the light-talent fairies going to the Mainland?” she asked. “They could work on creating lightcatchers on the fly.”
“That’s brilliant.” Sled latched avidly onto the idea, and Periwinkle slipped gladly into the background as he, Flare, and Fletcher started turning it over.
As she watched Fletcher’s cheerful conversation with the others, though, Periwinkle couldn’t help wondering if there was simply something wrong with her.
Anyone else would be happy with him, whispered her thoughts. Why can’t you?
But even as she was fretting over this, the sound of an argument cut through the party.
“I’m too low on supplies!” someone argued. “You promised you wouldn’t let us get this low again. Not after last time. It simply isn’t safe.”
“I have written to Queen Clarion. She has spoken with her healers and the warm-season gatherers.” This voice—deep, strong, but restrained—she recognized immediately as Lord Milori’s. “The supplies you’ve requested will arrive very soon.”
“What’s going on?” Gliss whispered. She, Slush, and Spike had flown quickly to join them at the table. Periwinkle fluttered a little farther off the ground to get a better look at whoever was talking.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Who is that? The sparrow man Lord Milori’s arguing with?”
Lord Milori’s broad figure was familiar, with his pale skin, silver hair, serious eyes, and slow, deliberate gait. He’d guarded the Winter Woods for as long as Periwinkle—as long as anyone—could remember.
But the other fairy’s name escaped her. Brown-haired, slim, and fair-skinned, he wore an oak-leaf shirt with a snowy owl–feather sash across his front. Given how young he looked, Periwinkle was surprised to notice the wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead.
“It’s Dougal.” Fletcher grimaced. “You know. The healer.”
Oh.