“I should get you home soon.”
“Really? Get me home? I’m the one that drove.”
He grinned. “True. But still. I know you have to get up before dawn to go into the bakery. That’s only a few hours away as it is.”
“I don’t care. I’ll go in. I don’t want to miss any of this.”
He leaned in and kissed me for the… honestly, I’d lost count. “There will be more. This is just your first.”
I looked at him, my eyes asking what my voice refused to give form to.
He smiled and traced my cheek one more time with his thumb. “There’ll be more.”
We made our way through the dancers, again bodies somehow moving out of our way—or maybe our bodies moved out of their way—and began to make our path toward where we’d entered.
We stepped around two male forms suckling at the breasts of a black-haired mermaid with olive skin and a dark-green tail. I grinned at Schwint. “What is it with fairies and extinct fairy-tale creatures?”
He looked at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”
I motioned toward the mermaid in the grass. “Her, and the unicorn. What next? Harpies and dragons?”
His strange look didn’t leave, but he shrugged. “What’s the point of being able to take any form you want, if you don’t experience every form you can?”
“Like Bertha?”
He laughed loudly. “Yes! Exactly like Bertha! God, I love that woman! What a trip!”
A fairy caught my eye as Schwint bent over from laughing. “What’s with him?”
After he caught his breath, he turned. “Oh, that’s just Pewlet. Oh, wait, I think he changed his name to Newman or something of the like now.” He rolled his eyes.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from the fairy. He was both strangely ordinary in such an extravagantly gorgeous crowd, but also astonishing-looking as well. He was ugly. Well, kind of ugly when surrounded by such beautiful creatures everywhere. But if you stuck him out on any street in the city, he’d blend in perfectly, just an average thirtysomething. I guess that was what made him stand out. He looked utterly ordinary and utterly lonely—and maybe a bit angry, like he might be plotting to whip out a machine gun on the crowd. Outside of his strangely ordinary appearance, the only exceptional aspect to him was his wings. They were huge, easily twice the size of his body, the expanse of his wings shimmering and metallic. Even without movement, they seemed to be awash in changing colors across the surface—the most beautiful butterfly pattern I’d ever seen. The costal veins, which ran along the top edge of the wings, were rimmed in long, curling golden feathers, as if fringed by old-time writing plumes.
“Why is he picking such an appearance?”
Schwint looked at me in confusion, and then his expression cleared as he let out a laugh. “Oh, I almost forgot you can’t tell who is showing their real form. He didn’t pick an appearance. He never does. Trust me, no fairy would purposely pick a face as ordinary and common as that one.”
“Why does he look so angry?”
“Did you forget what I told you about life for a fairy who isn’t beautiful? And he comes from a family where there is no one even close to rising up through our society.”
“If he’s not going to put on a different appearance for his face, why bother with the gorgeous wings?”
He flinched as he looked at me. “Careful, I might get jealous. He never alters his appearance. In any way. Those are his real wings.”
I looked back at the pissed-off fairy. “And those wings aren’t enough to help him rise up through the ranks?”
Schwint thrust out his chin. “You gotta have the whole package, not just the wings.”
“Why doesn’t he change forms? At least when he’s here?”
“Why so many questions about him?”
“I don’t know. He’s different from everyone else here. I guess I’m curious.”
“Different is an understatement. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times. He’s a strange one. Not that I don’t understand his frustration, but he’s got a bit of a scary edge to him. From what I hear, there’s talk about banishing him. I guess the royals feel like he’s trying to stir up trouble.”
I tried to see the fairy causing trouble. He looked pissed, sure, but he didn’t seem much of a threat, since I doubted fairies actually used machine guns. “What kind of trouble?”
