“You said you would glamour me,” I whispered to Devil as my eyes swept over the array of pointed ears making their way through the trees, all heading in the same direction.
“And I have,” he answered, holding his palm out and creating a small mirror for me. There was a mask over my face which hadn’t been there before, in the shape of a Huntress moth with outstretched wings, covering my face from the forehead down to the top of my lips. I put my hand up to it, but could feel nothing.
“Made of light,” I laughed. “Oh, you clever thing.” I regretted the words as soon as I said them, and ignored his self-important grin to examine my ears, which appeared pointed now, although they did not feel any different when I touched them.
“Satisfied?” he asked, snapping his hand closed.
I straightened up, a bubble of giddy anticipation swelling in my stomach. Of all the places I’d ever imagined finding myself, a faerie revelry in the Forest of Arden had never been one of them, but I was determined to enjoy it. I paused for a moment to look at Devil’s attire for the first time, noting that it was significantly more casual than anyone else’s—the same trousers and boots he’d worn to the falls that morning, paired with a simple green shirt that opened almost down to his navel in the front. It was presumably slitted in the back as well, to accommodate his great, red wings, which were now out on display. I dragged my eyes away fromthe exposed skin of his chest and stomach to examine his face. A pair of gold hoops dangled from the tip of one pointed ear, and a bit of glittering gold powder had been smudged across his eyelids and cheekbones, but that was the most drastic change from his regular appearance.
“Does no one expect formality from you?” I asked, eyeing some of the other fay men, who wore layers of brocade, silk, lace, or leather, capes trimmed with gold, and extravagant masks paired with matching jewelry adorning their ears, heads, necks, and hands.
“I am not attending as a guest,” Devil answered with a hint of bitterness. “I am…working.”
“As my guard dog?”
“Hmm,” he said, grinning down at me, “would you prefer me collared and leashed, May?”
Doing my best to ignore the undercurrent of intimation in his words, even though my body flushed with heat, I simply tipped my head to meet his eyes. “I think perhaps for everyone’s safety, you ought to be. Will it be expected that I only dance with my escort?”
Devil hesitated and his brows knit together. “No, but—”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from yourveryimportant work,” I said, adopting a patronizing tone, “so perhaps I ought to start searching for another willing partner…or two.” I reached up and patted his cheek, giving him a simpering smile before threading my arm through his. “Shall we?”
He uttered something that was either a low growl or my name and rolled his shoulders back, then put on a pleasant expression. “Right this way, my lady.”
We walked through the towering trees in the same direction as the other guests, accompanied by a swarm of his fireflies, which drew far more attention than I was accustomed to receiving. Many of the Fair Folk stopped to stare or whisper or point, while others merely greeted Devil by one of his other pseudonyms and only spared a passing glance for me.
“Who shall I pretend to be this evening?” I asked quietly.
“Yourself,” he answered.
“But surely I cannot introduce myself to folk as ‘Marina of Locksley’...”
“Marina will do.”
“And not a single soul will question where I came from or who I am?”
“The Fair Folk do not hold such obsession with title and family,” he assured me. “You are here with me, which means you are here at my master’s invitation. That will be enough for anyone who knows who I am.”
I considered the amount of eyes currently pinned on us. “Is there anyone here who doesnotknow who you are?”
“Oh, sweet May, you cannot expect me to admit to the exaggeration of my own infamy,” he laughed, then he stopped suddenly and pointed. “Welcome to the heart of the Arden.”
Chapter fifteen
Rivals & Revels
Ahead of us, astand of trees grew separate from the rest, looking as though they had been intentionally planted to create a facade. The differences in their canopy heights, and I suspect no small amount of magyk, created a massive, circular gap in the center—a window of limbs and leaves. It was illuminated from within by more of the multi-colored orbs, giving the appearance of intricate stained glass. With every slight breeze, however, the leaves shifted, making the window come alive in flowing, mesmerizing patterns, almost like the colorful fabric of a dancer’s spinning skirts. At the base of this facade, the tree roots had been pulled from the ground and shaped into elegant archways, through which the crowd ahead of us now passed.
The gray-trunked trees framing a colorful window reminded me for all the world of the cathedral in Nottingham, except that the revelers pouring inside were much less somber than church-goers. Chatting, laughing, or singing merrily, I suspected the majority were already drunk, and a twinge of apprehension cut across my breastbone. I had never drunk more than two glasses of watered-down Abbey wine, and had certainly never been inebriated. Yet, Devil had made it quite clear that human standards of conduct did not apply in the Arden, and a drink sounded far too appealing—a drink that might help me forget about Will, and his ring, and his kiss with Helena, and the fact that he was waiting for me back in the Hollow. If I could forget, perhaps I could come to terms with the fact that Locksley Abbey was no longer my home. Not that the Arden was either, but I made a swift decision that pretending for one night couldn’t hurt.
I opened my mouth with a question for Devil, but lost all power of speech as soon as we stepped through one of the rooted archways. Inside the cathedralof trees, monumental ‘walls’ rose in neat formation, standing like soldiers at attention on either side of us, and the canopies closed overhead, creating a vast, natural hall. The moon, filtered through a rainbow of leaves overhead, lent a soft, ethereal glow to the entire space, throwing dancing patterns onto the tree trunks and soft grass beneath our feet.
“Mother of Mercy,” I breathed, turning slowly on the spot.
“I am no expert,” Devil murmured in my ear, “but it might be considered ill manners to invoke your human gods here.” I snapped my mouth shut and gathered my skirts, avoiding his strange, piercing gaze. The twin rows of trees ran south, with gaps between them at regular intervals, curtained off by sheets of colorful, gauzy fabric. Fay of all kinds drifted in and out of the private areas, holding wine goblets made from polished ocher wood. The scent of roasted meat suddenly drifted over me and I fought the urge to clutch my stomach again.
“There,” Devil said, as if feeling my hunger pains. He pointed to a stretch of wall between two alcoves, where long tables had been set out and laden with food. As we approached, I realized the tables were part of the trees themselves—flat-topped roots growing up directly from the ground. But the magyk behind this was secondary to the feast on display, which nearly sent me into a state of shock.
