The large SUV had not, in fact, been saved for us, so we were given what was apparently the next best thing: a minivan. At least it fit all of us, though with the level of chatter going on in the back seats, it did feel like a car full of kids. And with Jack and me at the front – I’d tried to avoid sitting next to him, but the other seats had been occupied by the time I’d loaded my bags into the boot – it felt like a mum and dad on the school run. I tried to focus on the autumn foliage instead of my ex-boyfriend, but I couldn’t help but look over at him every now and then, taking advantage of the fact that he was concentrating too hard on driving on the right-hand side of the road to notice me staring.
* * *
The housewe’d hired was next-level. We’d opted for what we considered the ultimate American experience: a McMansion. Huge features, way out of proportion to the size of the garden, and way too close to the houses around it. The neighbourhood we drove into must have had hundreds of homes, all from the same four or five plans from the look of it, just the colours and materials on the outside differentiating them from one another.
As we pulled into a circular driveway and climbed out of the car, we all looked up at the hulking “Classic American Family Home”, as the listing had claimed. Inside was just as gargantuan; everything was massive and so spaced out that we could have parked a car in the centre of every room. We all had our own bedrooms – thankfully we’d booked long before Jack and I had got together – and it was a challenge just finding all of them. Some were on the ground floor, including the giant primary suite Chloe had claimed for the trouble of managing the booking, and Jack’s was even in the basement.
My room was upstairs, with a big window overlooking the driveway, and a shared bathroom with Phil. I laid out my chain mail and bright pink tunic on the chair by the window and hung my dress on the curtain rod; the rail in the closet was too low, causing the dress to pool on the ground, and though I knew it would get filthy when I wore it to the Ren Faire in a couple of days, I couldn’t stand the thought of justlettingit get wrinkled.
Once I’d freshened up, I wandered out to the back deck with the others. It was much warmer here in North Carolina than back home, even in October, and even though the sun was setting, the humidity was still palpable in the air, making the hot tub in the corner of the deck look a lot more appealing. There was a massive barbecue on the raised deck as well. Beyond that there was a rolling pitch of grass, bordered by a laughably small privacy fence; laughable because of how close the neighbouring houses were. But the back of the property bordered the edge of the neighbourhood where, beyond a wide strip of grass and then a cluster of trees, we could see the colourful signs and bunting of the Ren Faire.
“Wow,” I said, my voice breathy, “we’re really here, aren’t we?”
We all lined up against the railing, looking out over the manicured lawn and the festival grounds beyond. Jack was at the opposite end of the group, and I took advantage of the distance to watch him without getting caught.
There was something different about him, I could tell. He’d always done a brilliant job of blending into the group, but he seemed even more at ease than usual. Like that ease was less put on. And try as I might, I couldn’t help but feel hurt. Was he that much happier now that we weren’t together anymore? Had he been right all along, and he was actually happier and better off without a relationship?
A cool breeze blew across the back of the house, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was determined to have a nice, drama-free time at the Ren Faire. I’d been looking forward to it for so long, and I didn’t want what had happened between Jack and me to ruin it. Not for me, not for anyone. But based on the knot that formed in my stomach as I watched him joke with Chloe about something that I couldn’t hear, I knew that was going to be easier said than done.
Chapter47
Jack
All summer, even with all the costumes and the planning and the excitement from the others, I’d never really understood why this was so irresistible to them. I was mostly along for the ride.
But as we stepped through the gates, the trumpets ushering us into a wooded glade lined with colourful medieval-style shopfronts, the morning light overhead creating dappled shadows on the face of performers dressed as faeries and jesters, the smell of cinnamon roasted almonds and kettle corn floating on the gentle breeze … I finally got it. It was fucking magical.
And it only got more magical as we went on and saw just how committed to the bit this festival was. There was a smith, a dungeon, and signs for “privies”. There were callers advertising shows, and bards playing lutes and lyres. There were faeries on mats every hundred metres or so, blowing bubbles for the kids. We even saw a procession for the Festival Queen, who would be presiding over the jousts later.
We’d opted for our character outfits for the first day; the weather was meant to be a bit cooler, so we thought we’d get the metal and leather out of the way. Morgan was wearing her chain mail, of course, along with our foam sword sheathed at her side. And despite the fact that Thrormir was dead and gone, I was still dressed as him, in my cheap plastic armour I’d bought online. I looked like the Wish version of Thor in the cheap blond wig, carrying my warhammer.
Other than Morgan, Chloe had definitely gone in the hardest on her costume; she’d worked black leather into a bodysuit that looked somehow both slutty and practical, which shouldn’t have been possible, if her rants over the years about female characters in video games had been anything to go by. But she’d managed it, and with horns glued to her forehead, a very realistic purple wig, purple body paint, and a really cool flame effect painted on the palms of her hands, she looked like the Calamity of Morgan’s drawings come to life.
Phil had gone in pretty hard on his own outfit, too, which was similar to my outfit for the next day, except with a huge leather pauldron on one shoulder and his cardboard lute strapped to his back.
Grey wore a tattered brown garment around their waist, and a leather breastplate and gauntlets. They had a faux animal skull of some sort attached to their shoulder, and pointy teeth poked up out of their mouth. Their skin was painted green from head to toe, their green buzz cut blending in perfectly. They carried a huge foam battle-axe, which, along with Morgan’s sword, had to be peace-tied in red string at the gate. I noticed they didn’t bother making me do that for my cheap cardboard warhammer.
Fatima was the closest to me in terms of cosplay quality – or lack thereof – in an outfit that I was pretty sure had been a pre-assembled Halloween costume with some faux leather armour on top. To our group, she was clearly Clover, the Thieves Guild faerie we’d encountered in the fae realm. But to everyone else, she probably looked like a battle-ready brunette Tinkerbell.
Either way, she was attracting a lot of attention, as was Chloe; they skipped along arm-in-arm, encouraging rather than ignoring the leering looks they got.More power to ’em, I thought, as Chloe blew a kiss at a caller staring directly at her chest.
By the time we’d made it just a couple hundred metres into the festival grounds, we must have stopped for half a dozen photo ops, standing in front of things like the “Flying DaVinci Machine” kids’ ride and the sign for “Turkey Leggs”. People also wanted pictures withus, and not just people that weren’t dressed up; it quickly became clear that other groups would want to meet us and take photos with us, too. It was “Heroes and Villains Weekend” apparently, so the Renaissance theme was applied more loosely than I would have expected. A group of people dressed as Vikings stopped for one, and when I asked if they were heroes or villains, one of the girls smiled at me as she walked away, calling “That’s the centuries-old question, my man!” as she went.
But mostly, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Morgan. She looked incredible in her outfit. Powerful. And the joy in her eyes as she walked around and took in the faire, the desire she’d had for months and shared with all of us, the dream she’d made reality … it made everything that had happened since then feel worthwhile. Even if I couldn’t reach out and take her hand like I wanted to.
We walked all the way to the end of the fairground, passing the jousting arena, countless food stalls, the smith, loads of artisan shops and stands, at least ten performance stages – “fourteen, actually”, Grey said, consulting the illustrated map they’d picked up at the entrance – and even a mermaid exhibit. We queued at a food stall called the Cappuccino Inn, desperate for caffeine, whilst Chloe held a picnic table for us so we could strategise the day.
As I stood in line behind Morgan, I watched her laugh and joke with Grey and Phil about a group that had walked by, all seemingly dressed as different famous dragons; as far as they could tell, there was Puff the Magic Dragon, Mushu fromMulan, the dragon fromShrek, what seemed to be Smaug, and two people attached as the two-headed dragon fromQuest for Camelot. Morgan gasped in delight as she clocked Puff’s bowtie, and something inside me ached as she reached out to grab Phil’s arm; I wished I were the one getting her whispered jokes and amused smiles. But I was at least glad she was having fun.
We made our way to the picnic table, where Grey spread their map out across the surface. Fatima dug through her waist pouch and pulled out a pen, handing it to them.
“So,” they said, clicking the pen, “there are three jousts throughout the day, so we need to catch at least one of them…”
It was no surprise that Grey and Chloe both had lots of opinions on what was can’t-miss and what could be saved for the next day. But what surprised me – and honestly delighted me – was that Morgan steered the conversation as much as either of them. And rightfully so; coming to the Ren Faire had been her idea to begin with. It was nice to see her asserting herself so confidently, especially in contrast to when she’d first joined the group, and I couldn’t help but watch admiringly over the next ten minutes as she helped shape the plan.
This staring and gazing and admiring was going to get me in trouble though, so I was glad when someone suggested we split up until lunch so we could see more shows between us. Even though Morgan, Fatima and Grey were going to see an acrobatics show I wanted to see, I figured it would be better to tag along with Chloe and Phil so I could stay out of trouble. And if I noticed a slight frown flash across Morgan’s face as I shared that decision, I determined not to notice it, and certainly not to read anything into it.
I let myself have one last longing look for the day as Morgan and the others walked off towards the acrobatics show, whispering under my breath, “look back, look back”. And then I tried not to let myself be too disappointed when she didn’t.
