Page 88 of Kiss and Spell

Freya Grove Beach was crowded with folks enjoying the Bonfire Celebration. It was the culminating event of the Beltane season, the last night before all visiting creatures and beings were slated to return to their home realms. A night for stolen kisses and confessions before the veil closed until midsummer. The crackling bonfire was surrounded by driftwood logs, beach chairs, and brown paper goody bags. A few people and magical beings meandered around, clutching their red plastic cups and making conversation. Quentin stood by the fire, poking it with a stick as if trying to force it to be hotter. Another person fiddled with a phone hooked up to two portable speakers.

The cool May wind whipped Ursula’s hair into her face and yanked at her thin windbreaker. She shivered and pulled her hands into her sleeves. Dusk was approaching and the heat of the day was rapidly giving way to the evening chill. Xavier wrapped an arm around her and held her close. “I didn’t know you like the beach.”

Ursula settled into his side, letting herself soak in his closeness. “I’m learning to like it again.”

She caught Quentin’s eye. He raised a brow, dropped the stick, and approached them.

He greeted Ursula and Xavier with a proud matchmaking grin. “I was wondering where you were hiding. We’ve missed you at a few nominee events.”

“I’ve been… busy.”

Quentin glanced between them. “I see that Smitten Season’s been good to you both.”

“Hey, Quentin. Please meet Prince Xavier Alder.”

Quentin playfully sized him up. “So, Your Highness. Will you be escorting our Sweetheart to the ball?”

Xavier pressed a hand to his chest. “If she’ll have me, I’d be honored to join her.”

Ursula rolled her eyes at Quentin. “I haven’t asked Xavier because I don’t even have a dress.”

Xavier gave a mock gasp of shock. “We’ll have to remedy that immediately. I’ll call Whitney. She’ll have you in a dress faster than you can say ‘glass slipper.’”

Quentin clapped his hands. “Great. I’ll deliver your tickets to the shop and buy more sandalwood.” He extended a fist to Xavier who bumped it. “I love it when plans come together. We’ll finalize all the details with the Berkeley Hotel, but we’re confirmed for the ball.”

“The ball is being held at the Berkeley?” Ursula asked. A cold sweat ran down her back. She hadn’t been back to the hotel since the reception and avoided going anywhere near it.

Quentin’s eyes widened in realization. “I didn’t even think about it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ursula said. She glanced at Xavier. “I had my non-wedding reception at the Berkeley.”

Awareness lit up his eyes. “I see.”

“I don’t have the greatest memories of that space,” she admitted. She lowered her chin to her chest, hating that her past was being haunted by her future.

Xavier lifted her chin with his finger and met her eyes. “We’ll make new memories.”

Her knees went weak.

The person with the speaker frantically waved Quentin over to them. He let out an exhausted sigh. “Well, duty calls. If you need anything from me, please don’t hesitate to ask. Xavier. Ursula. Help yourself to the treats. Get smitten.”

Once they were alone, Xavier turned to Ursula. “So, Madame. Shall we make it official?”

Ursula straightened. She put on her best historical drama fancy British accent. “Will you do me the honor of escorting me to the Smitten Ball?”

Xavier kissed the back of her hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

They went by the bonfire and sat on the sand, crackling of the wood filling the silence between them. It was nice not feeling the urge to make conversation.

Her eyes went to the sky and found a star twinkling on the distance. No, that was the planet Venus.

It shined so brightly that she didn’t correct Xavier when he said, “Make a wish.” She’d never wished on a planet before, but there was a first time for everything.

“I’d wish you tell me a story,” she replied.

Xavier regarded her closely for a moment, then said, “In a realm far, far away, the fair folk danced under the moon and the swaying trees in the night wind. In the shade of the Alder tree sat a prince who loved to watch the folk frolic. It was a time of temporary peace, and the fae were grabbing what joy they could before it was broken. He caught the eye of one fae maiden named Helia. She asked him to dance, and he eagerly agreed. It is said that she was as lovely as a winter rose, but she wasn’t a princess. The prince didn’t care, and he courted Helia.”

“Of course,” Ursula said. Love often found a way.

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