“Tell me,” the barkeeper asks, leaning closer to us, “do they serve tiny sandwiches and cakesall day?”
I nod. The way his eyes shine is so darn wistful. Glancing around the tavern, I wonder how many people here are allowed to attend the prestigious social events atthe Court.
“What I would give tosee it!”
“Well then,” Moth brings his wooden stein to his lips, taking a deep drink, “you may come to the ball, of course—all of you!”
He gestures vaguely to the room filled with people—not that anyone is paying attention to our conversation in the midst of their own.
“And who are you to extend such an invitation?”
“Oh.” Moth’s downcast gaze is sheepish. In this light, his lashes somehow seem even longer than I remember. “I’m theprince.”
The bar erupted into chaos as soon as Moth admitted who he was; we escaped after the third song to his glory was performed by a traveling musician. Though Moth doesn’t do well under the spotlight, he was gracious the entire time, never letting the smile leave his face. Queen Plume told me all Moth ever wanted was to be king, and seeing him like this confirms it—he’dbe great.
On our walk, we snack on lavender candy floss. Our bodies drift into a sort of spin as we pass more musicians, who he makes sure to tip with a few gems. Maybe it’s all the cider, but he seems so alive and vibrant in this space.
As we stroll arm in arm, a shop window catches my eye. The mannequins are dressed in gorgeous, layered tulle skirts, covered in floral applique. The sleeves range from dainty baby’s breath spaghetti straps to large poofy clouds. I’ve been lucky to have an entire wardrobe to pick from courtesy of Queen Plume and Holly, but there’s something about the motion of these designs that’s like a breeze on a spring day. Even in a window display, they spark something new and exciting. I sigh, letting myself drink in the sight of them. At my heart, I will always be a fashionblogger.
The dress in the center makes my heart ache. It’s the same shade of light green as my wings with a giant billowing skirt and full tulle sleeves that look like something from an 80’s wedding photo. Tiny silk flowers are dotted across the fabric, making the whole thing look like it’s been freshly grown ina garden.
A gown fit for aprincess.
“Any of those garments would be lucky to be draped over your skin.” Moth’s breath is hot on my neck. When I turn to face him, the tension has finally released from his shoulders, and the gleam is back in his ruby eyes. As he looks down at me, I flush from the tip of my head to my toes.
Here’s the thing about being with someone like Moth. Just when I think we’ve hit our peak romantic stride, he gives methat look,and my chest flutters—just like the first time I saw him asleep on my couch, transformed into this beautiful man.
“I think you might have a crush on me or something,” I say, keeping a bounce in my step as I twirl lightly around the square.
“Or something.” He gathers my hand in his, pressing a kiss to my palm. “There does not seem to be a word strong enough to describe my feelingsfor you.”
“Love?” I bat my lashes dramatically, fluttering off the ground just enough to swoop my arms aroundhis neck.
“It does not even scratch the surface,” Moth whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. “But nonetheless, I love you,my flame.”
“I loveyou too.”
In our world, Moth is something to be feared and hunted—but here? We can finally walk hand in hand down the street. I can’t imagine how freeing that must be. Sure, there’s been something fun about flying around the shadows together, but how long has it been since he could just exist without hiding?
I squeeze his hand as the two of us walk through the market together. My head is fuzzy from the warm cider we drank at the tavern, and honestly, I don’t hate it. I like this, I like being together with Moth.
I pull him close, cuddling his soft feathers aswe walk.
“It’s so good here…” I begin, pausing for a moment to watch the golden lightning bugs swarm around us, as if they’re doing an intricate dance.
“I am glad you have enjoyedyourself.”
“You have too, right?”
“Tonight has been just whatI needed.”
The warmth of his body, the smell of the street food—everything is warm and floral with notes of cinnamon. It is as if Eclipsica can’t decide if it’s spring or autumn. Two seasons I love mixed together in perfect harmony.
“What if we stayed?” I ask.
“What?”
“You wouldn’t have to hideanymore.”
