The receptionist waved her hand at a group of people dressed in outfits ranging from goth fairy to hardworking hobbit. “The Renaissance faire is on. People come from all over.”
Valerie touched her own boringly unpointed ears. “I’ve always wanted to go to a Ren faire,” she said to Nico. “I wonder if it’s the one Roger tried to jest for. Be a jester for?”
“Hey,” called one of the goth fairies. A closer look showed she had more of an elder barmaid vibe going on, with a purple leather corset and black blouse. “You two looking for a place to stay?”
“Yes.” Valerie answered before Nico could. This was adventure. This was exciting.
“We set up a tent for our friends, but they couldn’t come. You’re welcome to it, if you don’t mind a campground.”
Valerie turned to look at Nico, who had obviously decided that he might as well give in to fate, if the expression on his beautiful face was any indication. He nodded and she nearly jumped on him to hug him.
“Then we accept with thanks.” She tried to sweep a curtsy and the woman laughed.
“Come with us, then. I’m Ellie.”
They did a round of introductions and followed Ellie out. “We have costumes too,” she added. “It’s not mandatory to dress up, but it’s fun.”
Valerie was dying to dress up.Dying, but she didn’t have to look at Nico to know that was so far beyond his comfort zone, it was back in the Mariposas. Well, she would pass if he didn’t like it, especially after their earlier fight. It would be enough to see others in costume.
On the way to the fairground, they found that Ellie and her husband, Fred—a huge bearded man wearing a beige tunic belted with a rope—came every year to take a break from their tax preparation business and three teenagers. “We considered auditioning as cast members, but prefer the freedom to come and go,” she said. “Plus, Freddie is a rabid anti-monarchist. It would kill him to have to bow when the king passed.”
The tent Ellie led them to was surprisingly spacious and complete with sleeping bags and inflatable pillows. A portable lantern hung from a hook on the center pole.
“At least it’s not raining because this place turns into a quagmire,” Ellie said. “Last year I was washing mud out of my ears for two days.”
“We really appreciate this,” said Nico as Valerie tested the entry. There was something so satisfying about pulling a superlong zipper. “Can we pay for the campsite fees?”
Ellie snorted. “No way. It’s a shame to let a tent go to waste, so you’re welcome to it. Did you want to check our costume stash?”
“I would.” Nico glanced over. “Valerie?”
“Sure!” Valerie gawked at him, shocked that Nico seemed, in his serious way, totally into the idea.
Ellie sized them up before fetching an armful of clothes. “Wear what you want, and you can leave the rest in the tent. I put travel toothbrushes and toothpaste there as well. We always bring extras.”
“Make sure you drink lots of water if you go for the mead!” said Freddie. “Have fun, kids.”
“Try the turkey legs,” added Ellie. “They’re technically anachronistic, but so are potatoes and no one’s complaining about French fries.”
Then they were alone in a tent, about to go to a Renaissance faire in full costume because why the hell not. Nico fished around until he found a white tunic. “Should I go as a peasant?”
“Or a visitor from the future.” Valerie pulled out a Star Trek costume. “Oh no. It’s a red shirt.”
“Low life expectancy for all wardrobe choices, then.” He held up a jerkin and examined it closely.
“I have to say I’m a little surprised you’re into this,” she said. Nico was full of wonders.
He gave her a confused look. “I played D&D for years. My only concern is whether elf ears are too much with a wizard’s staff.”
Valerie left so he could change. The scene outside the tent was calm. Most people were at the faire, and she could hear the music—it sounded like a banjo, but not quite—in the distance. The zip of the tent flap came sooner than she expected, and when Nico emerged, her mouth went dry.
He hadn’t dressed as a high fae–warlock hybrid, but he was obviously born to wear clothes from a past generic European century. The white tunic was wide at the neck and she wanted to slip her hand down the opening to feel his skin. Over it he wore a navy velvet jacket that approximated a doublet.
“Are those leather pants?” she asked, trying not to stare. They were tight.
“They were better than what I was wearing.” He thrust his leg outand flexed. Valerie lost the battle and her eyes bugged out almost as much as his quads. “I left the codpiece. There was a cape too. Should I grab it?”
“No, oh my God no.” It would be a crime worthy of the stocks to cover him up. He looked divine, and when he turned to fix the tent flap, she stared without shame. Nico in leather pants, what a gift.
