Page 56 of Fairies Don't Fall

“My Queen,” one of the attendants murmured, brushing out my indigo hair with a look of awe. “Your hair is the night sky.” She looked alarmed for a moment because she’d called me Queen, but I only smiled regally.

“I’m a midnight fairy. Let’s do this glow-up!” I fist-pumped, because that’s what Ruin would have done, the other fairies let out delighted laughs and squeals, and then it was on. Their spells soaked into me without any resistance. No, I amplified their spells and leaned into it.

It didn’t take long until I was dressed and primped, ready for my big entrance.

My attendants lined up as I walked towards the dome that was open, allowing the moon to shine freely down into the ballroom. It was the ballroom now, because that’s where the ball was. They were waiting for me. Everyone was crowded in. I could feel their anticipation and nervousness. Fairies from everywhere had gathered to see their Queen, to judge her, to see if she was still the death-fairy who could defeat war wolves at their own game, or if she was something more.

Max’s mind was beyond my touch, but he was here. Somewhere. Watching. My back twinged and my wings spilled all the way out of my back, spreading around me in a nimbus of sparkling purple and indigo with flecks of gold. My attendants gasped, and hopefully it was a good gasp, because I didn’t have time to double-check my wings in a mirror.

I stood on the edge of the platform with the moon’s ray shining down ahead of me. Maybe Max was at the bottom of that beam, looking up. How could I outshine the moon he worshipped?

I took a deep breath and then spread my wings and shrunk up to a tiny size so I could dart into the center of the moonbeam. I’d block it out literally. My wings were large enough that I could do that, but the moon shining through them should have a nice effect, like stained glass making the elaborate pattern on my wings more beautiful.

I listened to the moon, to the song of the wind, the stars, the plants blooming, and knew that down below vines were bursting out of the stone, unfurling with flowers as the vines twined up the pillars, turning the ballroom into a magical garden.

“Ooh, it’s like in the stories,” I heard a woman murmur down below, probably one of the visitors from Singsong City.

It was now or never. I expanded to full size, unfurling my wings and turning so my skirts flowed around in a circle as I gracefully descended, turning slowly to continue the movement, the flow, the feel of a graceful petal falling to the earth. Only sparkles. So many sparkles.

It was silent without any reaction for a good five seconds as I descended, but then there was a gasp, and an ‘oh!’ then a collective swell of awe.

Oh good. I’d made an appropriately otherworldly entrance, just like my mother would have done. Vervain would be so proud. The moon shone around me like a spotlight until I landed and then exhaled and smiled at the first person in front of me.

She grabbed my hand and shook it aggressively with a manic smile on her otherwise lovely face. “I’m Mirabel. I’m here to see about the music. Your entrance was absolute perfection! My brother will be so jealous when I tell him about it. He’s a lion in the Hosts. He loves dramatic entrances, but that was beyonddrama, it was…” she sputtered for a moment, then turned and hit the guy standing behind her who I hadn’t noticed but now… Ogre. Big ogre in Fairyland. No one had mentioned ogres. They were the ones with the serious armies in this day and age, like Malamech had, only ogres were for hire.

“What would you call it?” she asked, turning to look up at him like he wasn’t a massive figure of blue viciousness.

“Very magical. I am Arrook, Prince of Ogres,” he said to me, bowing deeply. “It is an honor to be here as you officially take your place as Queen.”

The prince of Ogres was in Fairyland. Quick, someone, kill something!

“Don’t be nervous,” the woman said, getting close enough that she blocked my view of Prince Arrook. “He’s a big softie. I don’t think he actually eats fairies. All that glitter would irritate the throat, you know? And singing is life. Which reminds me to introduce myself. I’m Mirabel, Music Master of Singsong City, also Elven Princess. Since Arrook announced that he’s a prince, can’t let him show me up. Aha! Also daughter of the Commander of the angelic hosts.”

I felt cold all over. The angelic hosts? She was a representative of them as well as elves? They were allied? They could defeat us with a breath. Her brother was a lion. One of their finest, most destructive warriors.

“Ah, the Music Master, ever one to charm and disarm your audience,” a silky voice said and then the goblin I’d met on the Granite bank’s steps moved forward, close enough to be seen, but not close enough to worry about him putting a knife in my ribs. “I am the Goblin Authority.” He bowed as low as a Goblin King possibly could without losing his own dignity. Not that goblins cared about dignity as much as other things. Mostly profits. It was the same Goblin from Granite’s steps. The Goblin King was going to break into a goblin bank? How typical.

“How is your sister doing?” I said after a moment’s floundering.

“Well, or she was last I saw her. You healed her most thoroughly. You have my sincerest thanks, and as I mentioned, I owe you two favors.” He sent a look to the side, where a beige man with sparkling aqua wings stood looking stunned and irritated.

“So…you’re this supposed Queen I’ve heard so much about,” the beige fairy said with narrowing eyes. I’d only put him into momentary awe, which was quickly wearing off.

“I am the Queen,” I agreed pleasantly. “But I don’t know what you’ve heard. You are the mayor of Singsong City?”

He blinked at me. When I’d said I was Queen, my words had power, and he felt that. He wasn’t used to how real fairies worked, and he’d come to my land.

Mirabel, the dangerous angel who had married the ogre prince, grabbed my hand. “Before you get bogged down in political maneuvering, do you mind telling me the musical situation?”

I froze for a moment before smiling at her. “Yes. I requested elven musicians.”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “That’s why I’m here. Also, everyone’s dying to see Fairyland. But what kind of music did you want?”

I stared at her. Were there different kinds of music? I answered slowly. “It’s a ball, so dancing music would be ideal.”

She beamed at me with bared teeth before she nodded slowly. “Yes, but what kind of dancing?”

I stared back at her blankly. What kinds of dancing was there? “With couples,” I finally said.

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