One
Though forbidden, I stepped closer, nearly becoming a part of the throng. I normally wouldn’t make such a risk. Not that it mattered. No one was watching me. Every gaze was trained toward the center of the clearing; every breath was held. Though the rebirth ceremony was identical for us all, royalty and outcast alike, the importance of this particular event was lost on no one. Nor was the drama. Soon the second and final child of the queen and king would emerge. There was no doubt what every soul was thinking, maybe even what a few were hoping. What if it happened again? Might there be another upheaval in the monarchy? What if the second son was defective like the first?
Like me.
The massive plum-hued chrysalis quivered, causing me to lean forward despite my best effort. The movement of air, caused by the wings in front of my face, made me pull back before accidental contact was made. I forced myself to retreat a couple of paces.
The rebirth ceremony is the most solemn of all our gatherings. It has none of the cacophony of lights of the New Moon celebration, nor any of its free-flowing wine or copulations. At least not until after the transformation has been witnessed. Even our farewell fête when a fairy passes from life is marked by riotous revelry. Not so with a rebirthing. Things can go so very, very wrong.
Moonlight reflected off the pewter canopy from which the chrysalis hung suspended. Pearls, diamonds, and translucent crystals were woven into the twisted metal, the only adornment allowed. Its opulence was surpassed by the beauty of Xenith’s chrysalis. Over the months as he hung suspended, the cocoon had grown both in size and splendor. Spirals of crimson swept across the deep purple skin, soft green dots speckled over the surface, and golden ridges circled around its circumference.
Nearly forgetting myself, I cried out when at last one of the seams began to split open. Again, no one noticed me. There were many other undulations besides mine. I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the small opening. It split further when dark fingers curved around the edges.
More fingers grasped the other side, and the split ran like a streak of lightning up and down the chrysalis.
Despite the hundreds in attendance, there was no sound, no movement. Night birds fell silent. The wind vanished. Even the insects waited with bated breath.
First a foot, followed by a long, muscular leg emerged. No sooner had the toes made contact with the mass of purple crocus growing below the chrysalis than the second leg pushed free. With that, Xenith slid from his confines and crumpled into a heap among the flowers. His wings were wet and covered him entirely, only the tips of his toes and the back of his forearms as he shielded his face were visible. He remained in that huddled position, as was custom. It would be up to him if he would use his power to heal the final unfolding of his wings or if he would let nature have its way. If he were anything like me, he would wait. Savoring the anticipation. Heightening the thrill of the crowd when he at last unveiled his perfection.
That’s what I had chosen. Looking back, I see I played the fool. But how was I to know? I’d waited, feeling each of my feathers drying, waiting until I was certain. Then, and only then, did I stand. I kept my wings folded about me, savoring each moment. There was nothing to fear. If there had been, my wings would have eradicated them. They were feathered, and huge. Like a swan. Each white plume edged in silver. My wings were feathered! A true prince. Most fairies had wings of insects; very few had wings of birds. Only the most exceptional emerged with a mix of the two. Still, even the king and queen had wings of an insect. I might not have had wings of the most rare variety, but I had those of a swan. There was no doubt I would rule. I’d waited with my wings about me until the anticipation of the gathering felt like it was going to erupt.
It seemed Xenith did not take after me as much as I had assumed, which I prayed boded well for him. He remained folded on the ground for only a few seconds before he stood. His wings now dry, there was no mistaking the pattern of the luna moth. Edged with a smoky violet, the mint green glowed in the moonlight.
I wasn’t sure. Was it a sign of hope or doom? I’d prayed he would have wings of insect and bird alike so there would be no question of his royalty. But Xenith’s wings didn’t even surpass my own. Surely we both wouldn’t be flawed.
Waiting for Xenith to uncover his face was nearly a physical pain. It was my rebirth all over again. I could feel my excitement, my surety of my place. Even after all the years, after all I’d survived, it might as well have been but a heartbeat before. That instant when I’d spread my wings wide, causing the court of fairies to gasp at their splendor, only to be broken when the first scream erupted from the queen. Her cry, like a contagion, spread throughout the crowd. Each face transforming from awe into revulsion as they looked at me. It had ages before I saw the transformation for myself.
I knew the second before Xenith spread his wings. I wanted to scream out to him. Tell him to remain protected in his moth wings. To crawl back into his chrysalis. I wanted to rush toward him, drag him off into the trees, and be lost for all eternity.
Instead, I did nothing. Life is what it is, and fate will have its way. With his wings flayed out around him, they were truly glorious. They could not compete, however, with his face.
Jealously flooded through me.
Xenith was beautiful. Nearly otherworldly. Well over six feet tall. Flawlessly muscled and lean naked body. Perfectly portioned face, all angles and strength. Skin, dark and glowing; bright eyes a shade deeper than his wings’ green.
The fairies had found their prince. The monarchy would remain intact for at least one more generation.
Still there was no sound, such was his beauty. All were captivated. Myself included. The sight of him cut to my soul. My heart broke, though I hadn’t known there was anything remaining that could break.
It wasn’t jealously. The realization offered some relief. I could not be jealous of Xenith. This was the outcome I’d barely dared to hope for.
Even though jealousy had no hold over me, I cursed myself for my own sense of loss. But no part of me would ever wish Xenith to share my fate, even to alleviate my own loneliness.
With an ease that betrayed the uselessness of his pupa wings that came before, Xenith’s luna wings lifted him above the pewter canopy. At his ascension, the solemnity of the rebirth was shattered. The air filled with floating orbs of light. Fire of shifting colors rained down upon the crowd, scattering into the shimmering confetti as outstretched hands lifted in celebration. Simultaneously, music cut through the night, both the music of the fairies and the songs of nature’s creatures that rejoiced with us.
From Xenith’s elevated position above us all, I thought his gaze met mine, but then it was gone. A phosphorescent mound of flowered moss began to form amid the crowd, and they parted, giving it room. Many of the fairies lifted into the air, joining their newly confirmed prince in his maiden flight.
I watched only a few moments longer as the mound continued to grow, spreading out to form an elevated platform. The mating ceremony that follows a successful rebirth lasts for days. Even outcasts are permitted to join in the celebratory orgies during a New Moon festival, only the pure could partake in this mating. While I would not wish to deny Xenith his rightful passage into adulthood, neither did I have any desire to witness its verification. I turned and walked away, the flood of emotions assaulting me too much to face.
Two
There are intervals where I forget I am nameless.
Sometimes that instant of waking, before my eyes let in the light.
Others when I am lost in dreams. When my wings lift me toward the sun. When my face is beautiful. When I am once again the queen’s eldest.
For those fleeting seconds, I am Quay once more.
