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Ayla’s mouth tightened with misgiving, but she dipped her head. “It happens every winter. Whatever it is, it is attached to the carnival wherever we winter. But it only seems to have gotten worse since we started wintering at The Bend. Always the children haunt the carnival until they fall silent on the Hallow Night.”
“The Hallow Night?” MaryAnne echoed, her skin prickling. “But that’s soon, isn’t it?”
Ayla nodded. “They are never here for long. And then next year there will be new ones. Always different voices and different children in the fog. It is a sad thing.” She sighed heavily. “I used to look for them. I dug into the darkest places within the shadows to search for any trail of them, but there was never anything, and now,” she shrugged with a sad smile, “I just pretend like everyone else that I don’t hear them.”
MaryAnne’s heart raced. She knew it!
“But why? If you all worked together then maybe…”
“We’ve tried that,” Nivira cut in, her voice small and sad. “Never did find a soul. After a few years there wasn’t any sense of looking anymore. Whatever the reason is that we are haunted every year, it hasn’t made itself known. It is better to not listen and not see when one doesn’t have the heart to go through it again and again.”
Ayla nodded. “There is only so many times one can go through the heartbreak of searching only for them to disappear as if they’d never been here.”
“The goblins were beside themselves. Never was a thing hidden within the shadows that they couldn’t find,” Nivira observed and glanced speculatively at her sister. “I swear it is why they spend nearly every free minute within the shadows that the little ones cling to when it gets close to the Hallow Night. I think part of them still hope to discover the reason for it, even if they will not admit it. One does not speak of it when they are so quickly gone. You even begin to wonder if you’ve imagined it all until new voices and shadows come again whenever we draw close to the Hallow Night.”
“But then why stay here?” MaryAnne asked in bewilderment. “I don’t know about you, but a carnival that eats children terrifies me. I wouldn’t stay here year after year.”
Nivira laughed softly. “Our carnival isn’t eating them. I daresay that they aren’t even buried on the grounds. We would’ve noticed if they were here. For whatever reason they are drawn here to play and find some small comfort. It is a gift that the Night Carnival gives to everyone. Safety. Joy.”
Ayla nodded and smiled. “Quite so. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else when we can change lives right here. It is better than dwelling within the wilderness. We have everything we could want here. An adoring audience, comfort…”
“A regular supply of tea,” Nivira broke in as she sipped from her cup. “The Night Carnival does have the best connections with the trade lines.
“But there is something that clings to it,” Ayla countered gravely. “It is why you must not wander outside the carnival grounds at night.”
“Or within them, just to be safe,” Nivira added solemnly as she reached into a small basket at her side and drew out two bone knitting needles around which she wound her silk. She arched a thin eyebrow at her sister. “You recall the young naiad girls who disappeared because they loved to sneak off and bathe in the rivers and streams at night. They just disappeared too. As did the young orc the next year.”
Ayla grimaced and nodded before leveling MaryAnne with a sharp look. “Within the grounds of the carnival it is safe, but at night there is something that moves over the carnival as if hunting. Stay in your tent then, or if you must be out when the hour is late, never be by yourself.”
“Yes, stay at your mate’s side,” Nivira quickly agreed.
“Sounds like excellent advice,” MaryAnne replied. “In fact, I think I will go find him right now.”
Nivira blinked. “Oh, but…”
She gave the drya an understanding smile. “Don’t worry. It is the middle of the day, and you said yourself that the carnival is safe. I will be fine.”
Ayla gave her a skeptical look but cleared her throat before glancing over at her sister. “She is right. She will be sequestered in here with you soon enough once the evening falls. There is no reason for Raskyuil to insist that you keep her bound up in her like a youngling tethered to a silken line.”
An unhappy look crossed Nivira’s face but she nodded. “There was talk of a trip to town. I’m sure you are eager to get out with your mate for a while and stretch your legs. If so, it is better to leave sooner than later so you can return well before we open at sunset. Elwyn is quite a harpy when he wishes to be,” she added with a wry twist of her lips as her needles clicked softly, her arachnid claws darting forward every now and then to adjust something or thread additional knots into her work as she knitted. “You will return if you cannot find him… right?”
“Without a doubt.” MaryAnne agreed as she stood. “The last thing I want to do is wander around lost in the carnival—especially with this fog.”
The drya sisters murmured their assent, but she could feel their eyes on her watching her as she slipped through the tent and out into the fog. The first sting of the coldness upon her skin sent a shiver of alarm through her, and she nearly turned around and went right back inside—except that it had only taken a step or two for her to become completely confused as the fog swallowed all but the faint light of the lamps and the towering rides in the distance.
MaryAnne swallowed nervously and toyed with the idea of calling out for Nivira and Ayla but thought better of it. It was still daylight, and she did want to find Raskyuil to share with him what she’d learned. She would never accomplish anything if she were huddled inside the dryas’ tent, terrified to step foot outside alone even if that was exactly how she felt.
Swallowing thickly, she placed one foot in front of the other and headed for the brightest cluster of lights at the center of the carnival. Once she was there, she would be able to find her way to Elwyn’s tent easily enough—and to Raskyuil.
* * *
Nivira lowered her needles as she stared anxiously at the tent’s entrance, praying that MaryAnne would step back inside again. When minutes passed and the human did not, she looked over at her sister worriedly.
“Are you certain it is safe for her to be wandering out there alone, Ayla?”
Her sister frowned and looked up from the weave she’d picked up to begin working on—some new swath of material that she was trying to get ready in time for her new routine tonight. Her brows dipped as if Nivira had suggested something completely ludicrous, and perhaps she had, but she couldn’t help but worry about the little female.
“Of course it is,” Ayla scoffed. “And we both know she won’t be out there long before she becomes too afraid of monsters lurking within the shadows, or that huge mate of her scents her out and locates her.” She chuckled and shook her head. “You know how humans are… At heart they are terrified of everything fae. She will not go far, mark my words. And the little adventure will do her good.”
