Chapter 5 #2
That, of course, was how they spotted her so quickly. Periwinkle had only just walked past the studios and workshops bordering Snowlight Square when her friends and a dozen other winter fairies descended, exclaiming in shock.
“Periwinkle!” Spike bolted over first, gasping at the sight of her wings, drenched and dragging behind her. “Periwinkle, what happened?”
Gliss and their other friends were with them a second later. “Periwinkle, your wings!” she cried. Sled clapped a hand to his mouth, and even laid-back Slush looked tense and worried.
“What happened?” Fletcher asked. He frowned, studying her wings unhappily. “Will you be able to fly?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “They feel so heavy.”
Periwinkle had thought she’d have to pretend to be worried about not being able to travel with her friends.
But she wasn’t having to pretend as hard as she’d expected.
There was something unnerving about the weight dragging on her back, the way her body was stuck near the ground.
The way she had to carry her wings, when they’d always carried her.
She couldn’t fathom how humans lived this way. She hoped she never had to do it again.
“Periwinkle! Are you hurt?” Lord Milori left his owl’s side and moved swiftly toward her, broad shoulders and long strides and somber voice cutting through the crowd. “What happened?”
Periwinkle felt her mouth go dry as he came to her side.
She bent the rules sometimes. But Periwinkle wasn’t much of a liar.
Still—she’d prepared for this. Watching Lord Milori’s serious eyes, Periwinkle mentally unfolded the speech she’d practiced.
“I was flying not too far from the border with Spring when I thought I saw an animal in the river,” she began.
“I thought a rabbit might have fallen from the bridge during its crossing, so I flew a little closer to see if I could help. And then I lost my balance and fell in.”
“Is the rabbit all right?” Sled’s face was lined with concern.
“There is no rabbit.” For the first time, Lord Milori sounded impatient. “Periwinkle, you know the animals cross into Winter at our border with Autumn, not Spring.”
“Oh.” Periwinkle hadn’t thought of that. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Lord Milori massaged the bridge of his nose.
“I just saw it, or, well, I guess I thought I saw it, and—”
“And you acted right away.” Without thinking, he didn’t add. “May I?”
He gestured to Periwinkle’s wings. She nodded and turned, shifting under their unfamiliar weight, nervously wringing her hands.
This was it.
As Lord Milori gently lifted one soaked wing, Periwinkle made a show of squirming to work her muscles a little. He cleared his throat, obviously thinking hard. “I’m so sorry, Periwinkle,” he finally said. “But you’ll have to stay behind. You can’t fly like this.”
It had been her plan. But when Periwinkle gasped, her reaction wasn’t completely pretended.
She’d actually done it.
Had she really believed she would? Had she really believed it would work?
“Let us wait behind with her,” Gliss broke in, urgent. “Me, Spike, Sled, Fletcher, Slush—”
“You can’t wait,” Lord Milori said gravely. “We travel together.”
“Then let me stay behind,” Fletcher said immediately, handsome face completely sincere. “I’ll stay behind this season so Periwinkle’s not alone.”
“No,” she said, too quickly. Fletcher’s face fell. “I mean, no. You should go. The Mainland is counting on you. On everyone,” she added, gesturing around the square.
Periwinkle thought she heard someone scoff at this. Looking around, she saw Weaver latching a door near Dougal’s Apothecary and tried not to glare at him.
“You’re needed on the Mainland, Fletcher,” said Lord Milori. “Besides, Periwinkle won’t be alone.”
Beneath his scrutiny, Periwinkle suddenly wondered if he was stating the obvious, or getting at something else.
“I mean, if you’re sure…” Fletcher’s voice was reluctant.
“I am,” she said firmly. About Fletcher going, and about herself staying behind.
Bringing winter meant slowing life down for the humans, keeping the land itself in its natural rhythm. It was important. Periwinkle was only setting that responsibility aside to protect Pixie Hollow’s very way of life.
“Lord Milori!” a snowflake fairy called from across Snowlight Square.
“Excuse me a moment,” Lord Milori said, moving away—but not before he gave Periwinkle a long, thoughtful look.
He knew something. Or he thought he did. Periwinkle just hoped he’d forget about it in the chaos of traveling to the Mainland.
Already on edge, she tensed when she heard a sparrow man behind her talking to his friend.
“No, I don’t think she’s coming,” he said. “I’d hoped, but—”
Periwinkle grimaced. Feeling almost guilty at not traveling along with the winter fairies, she turned to face whomever she’d overhead talking about her—and realized he hadn’t been speaking about her at all.
“Selene,” the sparrow man said. “She’s really not coming.”
“I know,” his friend said quietly. “I know she’s gone, we all know it, but I’d just hoped—well.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s a big day. You know how she loved to make an entrance.”
Selene. Of course they were talking about Selene. Not everything is about you, Periwinkle scolded herself.
The pain in their words had been in Dougal’s voice the night before, too, when he’d argued with Lord Milori. Periwinkle felt a stab of compassion for everyone grieving Selene.
That sort of suffering—it was an invasive species. It wasn’t native to Pixie Hollow.
“It’s going to be hard this year for the fast-flying fairies.” A nearby light-talent crossed her arms and sighed. “And now Periwinkle’s staying behind, too?” This time, Periwinkle jumped hearing her name.
“Periwinkle?” asked a winter-animal fairy farther off. “Periwinkle’s not coming to the Mainland?” Murmurs spread through Snowlight Square, eyes turning her way. Periwinkle bit her lip.
Gliss leaned close, blocking them all out with a hug.
“We practiced everything together. It’s going to be so weird to go without you.
” Periwinkle felt the same; it would be a strange winter without her friends.
Gliss’s disappointed voice and the confused whispers spreading through the crowd pricked at her conscience.
She was doing this for them, Periwinkle reminded herself. Still, she ached a little.
Periwinkle hugged Gliss back tightly, doing the same to Spike. Sled, Slush, and Fletcher watched her apprehensively, offering warnings and reminders to be careful.
“Remember, man.” Slush draped an arm over her shoulder. “Don’t fly near all that wind off Snow Globe Mountain. And don’t go near the Drift. No one knows what’s under that thing.”
“No problem. I’m planning to hang out a little closer to the Hall of Winter and the Pixie Dust Root and the bakery.” At least, she hoped that was all her plans would involve. “You be careful, too, though,” she added.
Periwinkle wasn’t sure why. But her chest felt unexpectedly tight with worry for her friends.
Finally, the time came for the winter fairies to leave.
As the sun began to crest over the horizon, Lord Milori climbed into the saddle on his snowy owl’s back, standing tall and raising his voice. “To the air, winter fairies!” he called.
“To the air!” went up their excited reply. Light filled the sky and the winter fairies’ faces as Lord Milori began to send off each talent by name.
“Snowflake-talents!” he shouted. With a cheer, the snowflake fairies rose into the air alongside the owls, who carried baskets of the snowflakes they’d made.
“Light-talents!” More whoops and cries. The light-talent fairies flittered into the sky, the lightcatchers they’d made and their own fairy glow sparkling.
“Fast-flying-talents!” A crisp wind cut through Snowlight Square as the fast-fliers took to the air.
But no one had to ask why there were no cheers as the fast-flying fairies joined the winter fairies’ ranks in the sky. Not when they were missing one of their own.
Icicle-talents, animal-talents, glacier-talents—group by group, they flew into the air. Periwinkle hugged Gliss and Spike tighter than she meant to when Lord Milori called for the frost-talents.
When the sky was full, the winter fairies pointed themselves toward the Never Sea and the second star to the right.
Fairy wings and fairy glow and motes of pixie dust filled the air, trailing behind them as row by row they flew away over sparkling forests and meadows and mountains.
Periwinkle waved after her friends until she couldn’t see them anymore.
And then they were gone. The fairies staying behind began trickling away in twos and threes to get their holiday started, and soon, there wasn’t much left in Snowlight Square except drifting owl feathers and faint glints of pixie dust.
Periwinkle had just turned toward Lattice’s Bakery when Lord Milori’s voice cut across the square. “Periwinkle?”
Surprised, she turned to face him. “Lord Milori?” she asked. “I thought you’d gone.”
“I’ll be after them in hardly a moment,” he said, intelligent eyes searching her face.
“Are you sure everything’s all right, Periwinkle?
There isn’t anything else you wish to tell me?
” Periwinkle’s hands stole behind her back, like Dewey had caught her taking a book from the hall without properly checking it out.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m disappointed not to be going.” True. “A little uncertain what I’m going to do with myself while everyone’s gone.” Partly true. “But that’s it.” Not true at all. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” she added impulsively, frosting on a large, false smile.
Because of course everything wasn’t all right.
Of course there were things she wanted to say.
She was worried about the Pixie Dust Root and about her friends going to the Mainland without her.
She didn’t understand why Lord Milori wasn’t opening up about the damage the nightmare magic could do, and she was desperate not to slip up and give away her own secrets.