Page 4 of Wings of Reverie

All their friends were so confident she and Fletcher would be great together. And who was to say? Maybe Periwinkle didn’t haveto feel certain about him. Maybe her friends knew her well enough to be certainforher.

But Periwinkle’s friends didn’t know she’d never dreamed about Fletcher. Didn’t know that being with him didn’t feel like falling softly into sleep, or waking up fresh from it.

Maybe her friends knew better than she did. But something about the way Fletcher was looking at her just then gave Periwinkle the feeling of staring at the ceiling over a long, frustrating night, wishing she could fall asleep at all.

2

Juniper Glade got its name from the trees that ringed the Hall of Winter. But as they made their way to the snowflake prep party that night, Periwinkle found herself staring at the huge crowd gathered beneath the trees, instead.

Periwinkle was one of the most social fairies in the Winter Woods. Tonight, though, her thoughts were already wandering back home, focused on the promise of dreaming. Not that dreaming was more important than being with her friends, awake—but because tonight might be her last chance all winter.

Would the dreaming still work on the Mainland? Or would her thoughts go still and empty again at night?

Periwinkle forced her attention from her worries back to the present and her friends. “How’s my hair?” she asked Gliss, raising her voice over the music-talents playing in the trees.

“Perfect! Both of you are perfect.” Gliss brushed Spike’s bangs to one side, then wrapped her arms around her friends. “This is going to be the best party ever.”

“You always say that,” Spike said with a laugh. But despite Periwinkle’s distraction, as the three of them flew into the trees, she wondered if Gliss might actually be right this time.

Music-talent fairies—drummers and icicle pipers and a singing-talent—stood in the space between four juniper trees. Every tree was hung with glittering lightcatchers, icicles crafted to catch sunlight or starlight or moonlight and release it at a touch. Winter fairies danced between the trees, laughing beneath the lightcatchers and singing along with the music-talents. Baskets were lined up on the ground outside the circle.

“Heads up!” A whistle came from high in the branches, and hoots and cheers went up from the fairies dancing down below as the snow began to fall. Periwinkle twirled and spun alongside Gliss and Spike, feeling like she was dancing in a snow globe as the snowflakes cartwheeled down in a curtain around the dance floor, falling from the trees into their woven baskets below.

“Periwinkle!” A light-talent fairy in a shimmering party dress flittered across the crowd and seized her hands. “It’s good to see you! I’m so glad you came!”

The fairy had luminous light brown skin, with sparkling browneyes and pale hair she wore in two braids. And Periwinkle, to her own horror, could not remember her name.

“Of course!” Periwinkle said. She drifted with the light fairy toward the edge of the dance floor, racking her memory even as she smiled her brightest smile. Spike and Gliss waved hello but kept dancing; they were no help at all. “I love cheering on the snowflake-talents. How close are they to meeting their Mainland quota?”

“Well, things were going really well for a while—they were almost halfway there before a bunch of wolf pups came barreling out of the clearing into three of the baskets.” The light-talent tossed a braid over her shoulder, giving something between a grin and a grimace. “Let’s just say we’re not there yet. But we’ve got snacks and drinks—I’m handling those—so even if it takes a while, the snowflake-talents will be able to keep their strength up.”

“They should’ve made sure they had animal-talents around instead of musicians,” Periwinkle said, and she and the light-talent fairy broke into giggles. When they’d gotten ahold of themselves again, she asked, “What can I do? How can I help you?”

“Well, like you said, the music-talents are here. Obviously,” the other fairy said loudly, gesturing to one ear and then to the dancing crowd. “We’ve got five or six fairies rotating out the snowflake baskets as they get full, and Lattice brought pastries over from her place in Snowlight Square. But if you aren’t too busy to help out—because I’m sure you’ll have a hundred fairies to talk to—would you mind keeping the melted ice and winterberry juice frosty?” Sheasked the question almost apologetically, shrugging her shoulders and holding up her hands.

But Periwinkle was insistent. “Of course I don’t mind!” she said. “Point me to the table and I’m there.” So when the light-talent led her across the clearing, Periwinkle followed her to the table and immediately got to work frosting the drink pitchers.

It was good to have a job to do. Even if the job meant ignoring the dishes of petits fours on the table for a few minutes. Even if some of the petits fours were caramel, and some were pumpkin, and some were pomegranate, and some were—

“Periwinkle?”

Her shoulders tensed.

She didn’t even have to look up from the table, or strain to listen over the music. Periwinkle knew who’d said her name just from the slightly dreamy expression of the light-talent still beside her.

She only shut her eyes for a second as Fletcher came around the table to her side. But it was enough to help her get control of herself as she took in his pleased smile and easy body language. “Hey, Periwinkle, Flare. It’s good to see you both.”

Flare! That was the light-talent fairy’s name. Periwinkle smiled, feeling a rush of relief—and then a trickle of misgiving when Fletcher smiled back even more broadly.

“Your hair looks cool,” he said.

Periwinkle brushed the ends of her two tiny pigtails. “Thanks. Spike did it.”

“Cool.” Fletcher bobbed his head, throat working. Flare raisedher pale eyebrows at Periwinkle, who did her best to act like she didn’t notice.

“Periwinkle, could I talk to you about something?” Fletcher blurted the words out so quickly she could hardly understand them.

“Um, sure.” Periwinkle didn’tfeelsure. Another batch of snowflakes tumbled down from the trees, and flurries kicked up in her stomach.