Page 34 of His Summer Prince

Leaving the flock in the evening wasn’t ideal, but Elior had placed a ward on the pen, and they’d remain within sight, the bonfire less than two hundred yards away. They crossed the field, soon reaching the festival site where they chose a quiet spot between the bushes, away from the crowd, to spread their blanket.

Like them, the villagers wore colorful midsummer crowns of wildflowers and verdant leaves. Wren and Elior mingled, waving at Miss Wright and chatting with the young men gathered around the beet ale stand. Wren purchased a couple of mugs for him and Elior, taking big swigs, the rich and earthy liquid washing down his throat.

Later, a man broke out the bagpipes, and the crowd formed a ring, everyone kicking their feet to the music, dancing round and round in circles. Once the ring broke and people coupled up, Elior swept Wren up in his arms, Wren laughing as they moved to the wild tune.

“I want it to be like this forever,” Elior said. “You and me dancing until our feet are sore, then sitting down by a tree and kissing.”

“Like in a dream.”

“Yes.”

“I want that.” Happy beyond reason, Wren lost himself in Elior’s arms, letting him direct the dance. It was nice to let go.

At sunset, everyone gathered by the shore and watched the will-o’-wisps drift over the lake as darkness settled over the land. The air was heavy with the scent of summer, and Wren took deep lungfuls as he wrapped his arm around Elior’s shoulder. The chatter of the crowd faded, leaving the two of them in their bubble.

“Look, there’s a pink one,” Elior said, pointing at the faint dot of light hovering above the water. “That’s a flower pixie.”

“It’s beautiful.”

The will-o’-wisp danced across the lake, then drifted off into the distance.

“Pixies are pretty free, right?” Wren asked.

“They don’t have much of a social hierarchy if that’s what you’re asking. They live in small groups in nature, and when they shift into their will-o’-wisp form—”

“They float around all day.”

Elior snickered. “Pretty much.”

“I wish we could be like that. Drifting through the fields, free of obligations.”

The bond hummed with Elior’s agreement.

They watched the lake until the last light had faded, and the villagers lit the torch that would set the bonfire alight. A young man did the honors, circling the pyre, holding the torch to the wood every few feet.

Soon, the bonfire was blazing in the night, warming everyone as the darkness brought its chill. Wren buttoned up his jacket, and Elior wrapped his shawl tighter around his body as they stood side by side, regarding the flames. A woman, accompanied by flutes and drums, sang to praise the fire, its flames said torepel evil spirits and bless the land for a rich harvest.

Wren and Elior returned to their blanket, watching from afar as the fire consumed ever more wood. When it had burned down sufficiently, the village’s girls who had been too young to join the war effort jumped over the bonfire, the boys cheering them on.

Eventually, Elior dozed off, the noise of the festivities quieting as the villagers found secluded spots on the meadow or along the shore to nap before the festivities resumed at sunrise.

When Wren finally fell asleep, his rest was fitful. He clung to Elior. The Winter King’s visit loomed over them. Wren was terrified of losing Elior to the whims of fate.

Elior’s tightening embrace and a growing unease in the bond roused him well before sunrise. The meadow had gone silent. Even the most energetic merrymakers had succumbed to sleep in those early hours of the morning.

“You’re all right?” Wren asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. Above them, a myriad of stars littered the sky. It cast the faintest light onto the world.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Elior pulled Wren against him, burying his face in the hollow of his throat. He kissed that sensitive spot to the side of his neck, damp breath caressing Wren’s skin.

“It’s fine,” Wren mumbled, willingly giving in to the delectable sensations Elior was showering him with. But underneath his affections, he felt the worry gnawing at Elior. “What’s going on?”

“I should leave right after sunrise.” Elior swallowed. “I don’t want to go, but I need to get this over with so that I can come back to you all the sooner.”

Wren’s arm curled around Elior’s waist. An unpleasant thought crawled its way into his mind. “You will come back, right?”

Elior shifted an inch away as if to see him better in the dark.“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t—”

“What ifhewon’t let you?” Wren felt like he was going to be sick. “What if they try and keep you in the faerie realm?”

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