Page 15 of Wings of Reverie

“That’s a bigif.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. Right.” Weaver landed again with a sigh, rubbinghis forehead. “You’re right. Uh, come here, I guess. Remember, Legs is in my waistcoat pocket,” he added. Hearing his name, Legs popped his fuzzy little head out of his hiding spot, as if to ask her to kindly not crush him. She nodded at the spider reassuringly, then bit her lip.

Periwinkle and her friends were touchy people. She, Spike, and Gliss were constantly fixing one another’s hair or outfit; Sled’s favorite pastime was wrestling the winter animals he cared for; and Slush would share a sleigh with anyone who asked. She’d thought she’d be filled with a sort of evil delight at Weaver’s discomfort with their closeness.

But Periwinkle felt a strange twinge of nerves as she stepped into Weaver’s arms, reaching uncertainly around his neck. He was as unfamiliar to her as she was to him, and she could feel his hesitation as he wrapped his arms around her waist again, more tightly than before, arms stronger than she’d expected. Her heart seemed to beat noisily as Weaver lifted them off the ground.

“Your eucalyptus dress is so slippery,” he suddenly complained, and she felt a strange relief that he’d broken the silence. “It’s impossible to get a good grip.”

“Yeah, well, the feathers in your vest are tickling me, and it’s annoying,” Periwinkle said into his clavicle; her head was tucked into the crook of his neck.

Honestly, he was unbearable. His outfit was gorgeous, he smelled like pine resin, he’d pointed out the weak spot in her plan to stay behind, and—well. It would be pointless to say his looks wouldn’tmake him stand out in a crowd. But it was all wasted on such an absolutely unbearable sparrow man.

They flew back to Snowlight Square in silence after that. But though neither of them spoke, Periwinkle had the feeling they were both gritting their teeth the whole way there.

Snowlight Square was crowded when Periwinkle and Weaver finally flew in sight of it. Weaver flew lower the nearer they got, finally landing behind a cluster of snow-covered oaks. “Try not to screw up the plan,” he said, working hard to avoid Periwinkle’s eye as he released her. “I doubt I can fixallyour mistakes.”

Periwinkle shook her head and started trudging toward the square. “Try not to hurt yourself,” she called back over her shoulder. “You know, waving that giant ego around.”

Weaver muttered something under his breath at that. It was probably best she was too far away to hear it, because she needed to concentrate.

Their plan was rolling.

With the winter fairies’ departure came a flurry of activity, so Snowlight Square was crowded as Periwinkle stepped onto its ice flagstones. Nature fairies—icicle-talents and snowflake-talents and frost-talents who would set the human world to sparkling, fast-flying fairies who would bring the chilly winter winds—hurried in every direction, scrambling through their goodbyes and last-minute packing. Winter animal-talents, who would helpthe Mainland animals into hibernation, spoke quiet words to the snowy owls who would carry the snowflakes in their baskets across the Never Sea. The owls were nervous in all the hustle and bustle, occasionally letting out a shriek that had the fairies covering their ears.

Other fairies lingered in the square, too. Art-talent fairies, cooking- and baking-talents, crafting-talents, helping-talents, healing-talents, dust-talents, scouts—though they wouldn’t be traveling to the Mainland, plenty had shown up to help those who were, or just to stand around and watch and wait and chatter.

There was a fair bit of watching and waiting and chattering, that morning. But even among the fairies who were busy getting ready to leave, Periwinkle noticed an unsettled, distracted energy that had many of them glancing again and again to the sky and the edge of the square.

That, of course, was how they spotted her so quickly. Periwinkle had only just walked past the studios and workshops bordering Snowlight Square when her friends and a dozen other winter fairies descended, exclaiming in shock.

“Periwinkle!” Spike bolted over first, gasping at the sight of her wings, drenched and dragging behind her. “Periwinkle, what happened?”

Gliss and their other friends were with them a second later. “Periwinkle, your wings!” she cried. Sled clapped a hand to his mouth, and even laid-back Slush looked tense and worried.

“What happened?” Fletcher asked. He frowned, studying her wings unhappily. “Will you be able to fly?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “They feel so heavy.”

Periwinkle had thought she’d have to pretend to be worried about not being able to travel with her friends. But she wasn’t having to pretend as hard as she’d expected. There was something unnerving about the weight dragging on her back, the way her body was stuck near the ground. The way she had to carry her wings, when they’d always carried her.

She couldn’t fathom how humans lived this way. She hoped she never had to do it again.

“Periwinkle! Are you hurt?” Lord Milori left his owl’s side and moved swiftly toward her, broad shoulders and long strides and somber voice cutting through the crowd. “What happened?”

Periwinkle felt her mouth go dry as he came to her side.

She bent the rules sometimes. But Periwinkle wasn’t much of a liar.

Still—she’d prepared for this. Watching Lord Milori’s serious eyes, Periwinkle mentally unfolded the speech she’d practiced. “I was flying not too far from the border with Spring when I thought I saw an animal in the river,” she began. “I thought a rabbit might have fallen from the bridge during its crossing, so I flew a little closer to see if I could help. And then I lost my balance and fell in.”

“Is the rabbit all right?” Sled’s face was lined with concern.

“Thereisno rabbit.” For the first time, Lord Milori soundedimpatient. “Periwinkle, you know the animals cross into Winter at our border with Autumn, not Spring.”

“Oh.” Periwinkle hadn’t thought of that. “I hadn’t thought of that.”