“Why?”
“It’s just that…the first night of the festival is the night where—” She clamped her mouth shut before she said what she was thinking.
“Where a girl is chosen?” he finished for her.
Her shoulders slumping, she nodded.
“And you’re worried about that?” he asked.
“A little.”
He gave her a smile. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. You are a lovely vision. Any elven man—”
“That’s just it, Elator. I’m not an elf.”
That never mattered to Elator or Yirrie, but Snow worried it would matter to others. He popped the rest of the pie in his mouth, brushed the crumbs from his hands, and gave her a thoughtful look as he chewed.
“You’re right. You’re not. But that doesn’t matter to any of us here.”
It mattered to her, though. Elator stepped into her room and gave her a peck on the cheek, then granted her a smile. He said nothing more as he left her room and headed to his own to prepare for the festival.
Heaving a sigh, she perched on the edge of her bed and eyed the gown with increasing trepidation. As much as she wanted, she could not avoid the Springtide Festival. She moved to her bedroom door and closed it so she could change. As she paused there in the middle of her room, she eyed the window, longing for escape.
It was not an option. Taking a deep breath, she began to dress.
Chapter 4
Snowstoodinfrontof her full-length mirror and stared at her reflection with dismay.
Her black hair hung loose down to her waist. She’d plaited a length on each side to frame her face in the elven way. Her lips were naturally rose colored and there was color high in her cheeks, due to the heat swarming through her.
And then there was the dress. The neckline that plunged downward toward her navel. The long sleeves. The form fitted bodice. The flared skirt. The silver swirls shimmered with every movement.
She was not the kind of girl who attended fancy balls or festivals looking for romance. She was the kind of girl who snuck out of her bedroom window in the dead of night. She was the kind of girl who spent an evening under the full moon visiting with forest sprites and tiny garden gnomes.
Lifting a hand, she held her right palm flat in front of her and closed her eyes. She imagined a length of vine with tiny pink flowers blooming along it, wrapping around her wrist and climbing its way up the length of her arm to her shoulder. When she opened her eyes, it was there. She smiled.
Then she used the same elemental magic to allow the floral vine to spread from her shoulder, across her bosom to the other side where it wound its way down to her left wrist. The floral vine was the perfect camouflage to hide the daring neckline she so disliked. She opted to leave her pedant on her dressing table for the evening.
A swift knock on her door startled her. Yirrie popped her head in. She started to say something then paused, her mouth forming a round o-shape as she peered at Snow from the doorway.
“What have you done?” she asked.
“Do you like it?” Snow held her arms out and did a slow turn.
“Snow, the vines—”
“Are perfect,” she interrupted. The last thing she wanted was for Yirrie to insist she remove them. She plastered on a bright smile.
“But they hide the beauty of the dress.” Yirrie pushed the door open wider and stepped in. She reached for Snow, prepared to pluck them away.
Snow batted her hand away and gave her a hard stare. She took a step back out of reach. “I like the vines and the flowers.”
Elator popped into the doorway then, a small package in his hands. He peered, uncertainty in his eyes.
“Ah, Snow, you look lovely,” he said.
“Elator, the vines are—”
