Moon's Flower (Kingdom, #6)

*

Calanthe watched the moonbeam come and take him and in her heart she didn’t want to believe that it was over for them. But the mind understood what the heart could not. It was over, and even though it felt like she was dying, she couldn’t regret it and wouldn’t take it back. For as long as she lived, she would love him.

But sometimes that was the way of love, it wasn’t always perfect and rarely had a happy ending, but that didn’t make it any less perfect.

Hanging onto the bark of a tree trunk she stood staring at the dusky sky, knowing he couldn’t watch her during the day, but hoping all the same that his eye would never stray far from her. That somehow, even though space and stars separated them, that she’d always feel him near.

They’d talked for so long she felt like she knew him intimately. Knowing they were soon to be separated they’d shared their truths and most intimate thoughts with one another. The fact was Calanthe might not like it, but his reasons for leaving were sound. Siria was a problem neither of them could hope to deal with.

“Calanthe, I cannot believe what you have done,” June’s voice was full of censure and reproach.

Twirling with a startled, little cry, Calanthe grabbed her chest. “All this sneaking about and spying on me must stop, June.”

“Is it wrong to worry over my friend?”

“Stop, please.” Calanthe held up a hand. “I love you, sister, I do. But you must leave this be.

June’s snail shell cap was gone, her wild orange locks framed her long face. Frowning, Calanthe’s lips thinned.

“How far did you follow us, June?”

“You gave me no choice.” June shook her head hard. “You run off, you think I didn’t know what night it was. What you’d be doing? What you did.”

Eyes widening, heart pounding, Calanthe took a step back. Had June seen it all? A sick, horrible feeling spread like rot through her gut, because of all the fairies Calanthe knew, June was perhaps the most honorable.

There were no grays with her friend. Right was right and wrong was wrong and that was the plain truth of it. The fact that June had kept her secret about the seed was enormous. Clasping her hands, Calanthe squeezed her eyes shut. “You cannot speak of this, June.”

“That’s what you keep telling me, speak of this to no one, June. If you love me, don’t tell.” Her voice was rich with exasperation. “What about me, Calanthe? Hmm?”

“I never told you to follow me. In fact, I told you to leave it be, did I not?”

June looked as shocked as if she’d been slapped. “I am your friend, and it is my duty to see that you are safe.”

“Dear, I was perfectly safe.” She smiled and spread her arms wide. It was true, there was a becoming flush to Calanthe’s body, even the petals of her dress were a lustrous, rich ivory. “Do I not look well?”

June’s eyes dropped to her feet, then traveled slowly up, before coming to rest on Calanthe’s face. “I fear for you. For what you’re becoming.”

Sensing that her friend was no longer angry, but worried, Calanthe rolled her eyes and rushed her so that she could hug June’s slim shoulders.

“You worry overmuch, snail. I am fine. In fact, I am more than fine. I am in love.”

The minutest of expressions crossed her friend’s face, so quick that Calanthe doubted whether she’d seen it at all or whether it was just a figment of her overactive imagination.

“You will be the death of me, flower,” June’s words were filled with long-suffering warmth.

“Aye, I suspect I might.”

Lifting her chin high, Calanthe held out her arm. “Lead the way, slow poke. I believe I owe you a race.”

June scoffed. “Slow poke, we’ll see about that!”

And just like that, all was right with Calanthe’s world.

*

“Head Mistress,” a small voice stuttered from behind the large spider web swing in the corner of The Blue’s mushroom home.

Galeta twirled at the sound. She’d only just returned to the glen, her meeting at the summit of good versus evil had lasted longer than she’d at first anticipated. It made her twitchy to be gone from her post for so long.

But she was glad she’d stayed the extra week, because there was (she’d discovered) a serious shortage of godmothers working for the villains of the world. Which was ironic to say the least, because why should something so despicable earn the privilege of possessing their own godmother? She’d opposed the edict, stating that evil got what it deserved. But she was outvoted. Resource claimed that statistically villains were less likely to do evil when they had a voice of reason behind them.

She rolled her eyes, setting down her valise. Well, that was neither here nor there at the moment.