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My limbs go cold, and ice replaces the fire running through my veins.
I pull back the covers, pressing my bare feet into the carpet. The warm, moss-soft material squishes between my toes. Real. That's definitely real.
I see the boxers I’d bought in a Port City department store, and my stomach's twisting worry evaporates. I let out a long breath, running a hand through my auburn hair.
It is real.Sheis real.
“Get your shit together,” I whisper to myself. Today, I am forced to dress up in blades of green grass and dance till I drop.
The Summer Celebration is supposed to last an entire month. Summer Fae sleep through the morning and wake up in the late afternoon, when the sun is brightest, to party through the warm night until the sun rises. Then we do it all over again. And again. And again.
No one works during this time. My whole life, I have watched more Fae end up penniless and exhausted after these parties than at any other time of the year. In the past, humans were glamoured and tricked into becoming servants. They worked until they died.
My stomach clenches again. Many of our parties have been founded on similar tricks and tragedies.
I hate thinking that this is a part of my people’s history, but not as much as I hate the fact that people say since we don’t need to acknowledge the past since we have fair labor laws now.
Lucinda (Or ‘mom,’ as I refer to her out loud) is devastated I won’t be there the whole time. When I arrived, I stepped around the truth and said that Boss wouldn’t let me have so much time off. The truth is, I hadn’t actually asked. Mom had only compelled me to come, not stay, after all.
I just really struggle when I go home.
Sometimes, when I am around my mother and sister, it’s like all the progress and growth I made going out on my own vanishes. It’s too easy to be irritated and unkind with them.
I move to the bathroom and start washing my face.
Undoubtedly, I will be introduced to dozens of Fae females. I once made Lucinda swear she would never compel me to marry, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try other methods. Honest, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with my parents being separated. Mom wants so desperately to see me happy and settle down with someone. She believes in love.
What a joke. Dreamers believe in love before the realities of the world settle upon them.
My mother wants me with someone who won’t weave a series of conditions into a marriage that will dissolve the second one of them is hurt or irritated. Despite hundreds of conversations (fights) about this topic, she doesn’t understand that my best bet is not finding a partner in a culture where conditions, tricks, and loopholes are considered normal.
Maybe I should do something unexpected and schedule a meeting with a family therapist while I’m here.
A laugh bubbles up inside of me, and I huff a laugh at my own joke. There are no therapists or counselors in the Summer Court. Here we glamour, drink, and trick ourselves out of problems.
I tug on my first outfit from a nearby milkweed-braided hanger. Lucinda purchased everything and has coyly refused my offer to pay her back. She doesn’t enjoy owing me things, even though I swear up and down there will be no debt. Gifts do not exist in the Summer Court, just endlessly complex favors.
She buys me too many outfits, undoubtedly hoping I will miraculously decide to extend my stay with her. There is a part of me, deep down, that would love to do that. Despite it all, I love Lucinda and Cherie.
Love is a challenge when it’s conditional. I want grace from my mother, and instead, I get consequences. Maybe consequences are good every now and again, but after my father Andrius left, I was a sad youngling. In the years that followed, I definitely did a lot of stupid shit.
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath.Keep it light, Nathaniel. You’ll have a better time if you can just relax.
I wash up quickly. The servant has already drawn a lemongrass-scented bath.
Got to smell the part, too, I guess.
After bathing, I change into an eccentric outfit.Technically, fashion standards in the Faerie Courts are made to fit their seasons, but they are still outrageous. Thankfully, we mostly only dress like this for our solstice unless you are one of those Fae-fluencers.
Pulling on the moss-green tights thatare literally made of moss, I put on the pointed green shoes and wrap the band of tall grass around my middle. My chest peaks out from behind the emerald-green blades, but my arms and collar bones are completely exposed.
Gold bangles are wrapped around my biceps, and a designer Le Baba Morgaine gold circlet nestles over my forehead. I have re-shaved the side of my head into intricate patterns and my russet brown hair puffs out in soft curls around the gold.
I flex my muscles in the mirror, watching myself vainly.
I look ridiculous, but by Fae standards, my mom will have a ball dealing with the prospective partners.
Our house's rich, cherry-wood banisters are gleaming with polish, and the stained-glass windows depicting the Summer God bathe the room in a thousand shades of green. For a moment, my chest tightens, and I remember that not everything in this home was miserable.
