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ZARA
THE NIGHT OF OSTARA
“Zara!” Marisa pinches my side, jolting me from my woolgathering. She tugs on the hem of my shirt, and I drop into a deep curtsy.
The Queen of Fairy just walked into the ballroom of the Summer Court’s manor, and I hadn’t noticed. My long blonde hair is pulled back into a tight bun to keep it out of my face, otherwise I’d try to hide behind it. I chance a look at the dais that’s situated at the front of the room. A golden throne draped in flowers, vines, and thorns rests in the center of the platform. Standing in front of the ornate chair is the chillingly handsome Duke Ambrose, who’s waiting to welcome the Queen. They’re both tall and lean, like most of the High Fae. Their skin glows with an unnatural vitality. One that, if whispers are to be believed, doesn’t belong to them.
The Queen is beauty personified, with long flowing hair the color of fire, and eyes so green that many believe them to be a glamor. She doesn’t deign to look at those gathered around the room. Everyone is beneath her.
The Duke’s icy blue eyes roam over the packed ballroom, appearing indolent. It’s a ruse. He’s making note of every person present and cataloging anything he perceives to be a slight against him or the Queen. I don’t doubt he caught my delayed bow, and my back throbs as if the beating has already been administered.
Tonight is the Ostara celebration, a reset of the world when day and night balance each other perfectly. It’s supposed to be a time to wipe the slate clean and begin anew with hearts and minds aligned. That’s simply the fluffed-up version of the holiday. In reality, like all the holidays we celebrate here at the Summer Court, it’s an excuse for the High Fae to drink too much wine and shed what little inhibitions they have.
The ballroom is overflowing with beautiful men and women, their excitement flavoring the air. It’s a taste I’ve come to fear. Before the end of the night, their true faces—the ugly, mean, controlling ones that are hidden by their ethereal beauty—will come out to play. It doesn’t matter what the outside looks like, inside they’re full of ash and rot.
Hundreds of candles light the room. Three enormous chandeliers hang overhead, decorated with flowers and leaves molded out of glass that sparkles with breathtaking artistry. Those same flowers, leaves, and still more thorns appear all over the manor. A motif that represents the Summer Court.
“Did you know the Queen was coming?” Marisa whispers, but I fear she’s not quiet enough. I give a barely perceptible shake of my head. I didn’t know she was coming. Usually, the entire manor is sent into a frenzy weeks before she’s due to arrive, but there was no warning this time.
Fear slithers down my throat and coils into my belly. Her visit won’t mean good things. It never does. There’s a reason she’s Queen of all Four Courts of Fairy. She’s vicious. Ruthless. Some even say she’s mad. Another sensation trickles down my spine and all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I bite my lip to keep from gasping in surprise. I’ve had this feeling before. It’s an instinct, a knowing, that tonight something important is going to happen.
My heart hammers so fast it’s the only sound I can hear. I don’t know what’s coming, only that an opportunity will be headed my way. Marisa tugs on my sleeve and it’s only then that I realize the party has resumed. Music tinkles in the background as the court mingles and dances. Sharp laughter, cruel comments, and dark whispers flit around me, the symphony of Summer Court life.
It’s a nightmare I never wake from.
I scramble up and follow Marisa, keeping to the perimeter of the ballroom. Tonight, we are on clean-up duty, plucking up discarded glasses and plates, and notifying the kitchens when food and drinks run low. It’s a horrible assignment because anything can set off the ire of the High Fae who prance around the room. If you are facing them, have your back to them, if they hear you, if they don’t hear you, and then realize that you’re there. Any and all of these things can set them off. That’s the life of a drudge, those of us enslaved to serve the Courts of Fairy. We are destined to live in constant fear.
I’ve learned how to shrink in on myself to try to remain invisible. Shoulders rounded, head lowered, eyes downcast, but not so much that you can’t see obstacles that might appear in your pathway. Never speak unless asked a direct question and if you are, keep your answers to short, one-syllable words whenever possible. Even then, you might still feel the back of someone’s hand because they’re in a mood that day. Which is why being out in the ballroom is the worst. It’s hard to avoid Fae when hundreds of them surround you.
It’s nearly midnight when the Duke stands up from his throne, the Queen at his side. The room goes silent and I almost sigh in relief. The Duke will usher everyone outside and Marisa and I will be able to pick up the mess without the worry of the guests watching.
“My dear friends.” The Duke smiles, eyes skating over the crowd. His teeth look a little too sharp and his eyes are such a light blue, his stare looks deadened. It makes my skin crawl. “Tonight, we celebrate Ostara. Our world will balance again, and we are that much closer to summer.” He chuckles and places a hand over his heart, overjoyed by the thought of his Court’s season coming back around. It will give him and the entire court a power boost.
“We are doubly excited tonight because our magnanimous Queen has decided to join us in our celebration. Come. Let us all escape the confines of the manor and gather in nature as we usher in the spring.”
Cheers go up around me and I know a moment of panic that I’m not on the edges of the room. I’m in the middle of a crowd of Fae. Such a foolish mistake.
It all happens so quickly. I’m shoved, an elbow cracks into the back of my head, and the plates I’m holding slip from my hands. They hit the wood floor, intricately designed with inlays of vines and flowers, and shatter.
The sound is unnaturally loud, and is soon joined with gasps, titters, and snickers that make my skin crawl. The crowd steps away, forming a circle around me. They aren’t trying to get away from me though, they’re getting ready to watch my punishment.
I’m frozen. I don’t even bother dropping to my knees to pick up the broken pieces. There’s no point.
“What is this?” Duke Ambrose’s voice is eerily even and calm and it takes everything in me not to flinch. “Such a clumsy, wasteful drudge.” His voice gets closer as the crowd parts, forming a path for him to walk toward me.
His boots crunch on the broken plates and I feel the sounds as if it were my bones cracking.
“Do I not clothe you? Feed you, house you?” The Duke stops in front of me, his voice echoing around the room. The other Fae shift in excitement, blood thirsty leeches.
I keep my head down and don’t respond because I know he doesn’t want an answer. His questions are for the spectators, to incite the others until they salivate for my punishment. The Duke’s long, elegant fingers reach out and grasp my chin, biting into my skin as he jerks my head up.
Those cold eyes drill into mine, never ending pools of ice that freeze me down to my soul. I should look away, but I can’t. The fearful anticipation of what he’s going to do to me making me a puppet to be controlled. Sweat drips down my back, and the coarse linen of my shirt sticks to my skin.
“So ungrateful.”
He shoves my face away, and I stumble into another Fae. They push me to the floor, and I fall to my hands and knees. A piece of the broken plate slices into my palm, but I keep the pain locked down along with my voice. Cradling my bleeding hand to my chest, I tremble as the Duke spins in a circle, arms thrown wide.
“I know exactly how my kindness can be repaid.” He claps his hands and gives me his back.
