Chapter 19

They sat and talked and kissed for a while but after a time Rowan looked her in the eyes and smiled pure mischief. “The moon's full,” he said significantly.

Rhiannon knew the moon was full. She could always feel it when the moon was full. It called to her and filled her with desire most of the time, although she had to admit that now, the feeling was, she stopped, considering it . . . like calling to like. But what of it? Everyone seemed to ignore the full moon. While as a little girl she had gone out into the back yard and twirled under it, she had soon realized that other people didn't do this. In the city, sometimes you could barely see the moon from all the light pollution.

Rowan stood suddenly and went to the door opening it to the outside. She could hear a penny whistle tentatively striking up a tune and the husky notes of a flute. Rowan strode to her and took her face in his hands. “Come out with me,” he said intensely, insistently, his dark eyes glowing.

“Rowan I'm . . .”

He cut her off, “Please. You won't regret it. Trust me. Come out.” His eyes pleaded with her as he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.

She nodded, “Alright. I'll come,” she agreed, not sure what she was agreeing to. Rowan was at the wardrobe in a flash passing her the linen blouse and purple skirt that she'd worn earlier. The skirt was cut from a circle and and came to just passed her knees. It had a broad waist band. Buttoned over the simple blouse it showed off her tiny waist and with three stripes of red, blue, and yellow silk ribbon trim at the hem it looked made for twirling. She hadn't even pulled on shoes or a coat and already he was drawing her towards the door. “But Rowan I need shoes!” she squeaked as she noticed that he wasn't wearing any.

“You'll be fine, just come,” he said pulling her out into the night. He was elated, exited, as she had only ever seen him the night he had asked her to be his. She let him pull her into the forest, past the buildings and deeper, but she could see lights ahead and she thought to herself, Of course. What do Fairies do under the full moon? That was an easy one. They dance.

She could see lights through the trees as they made their way through the forest. Firelight, torches, blown glass lanterns with dancing flickers inside them and Rowan was right, she wasn't cold. A drummer and a rich contralto voice had joined the penny whistle and the flute. Rowan pulled her to the clearing and she stopped, hesitating in the trees, looking around. At the bonfires, the lights, the small but growing crowd of people already dancing in the centre. Not organized folk dances or anything so orderly as that. It was more like a rave crossed with an exotic midnight carnival. There was a wood sprite walking around on his hands and an eight foot tall Phooka with the head of an enormous weasel breathing fire. As the sound of heavier drums joined the music Rhiannon looked to where the musicians stood. It was Nimue who was singing which, for a moment, surprised Rhiannon as her own voice was a light passable soprano. Nimue's voice was all dark rich velvet. There was a Raven girl with a bodhran and a tall dark man playing conga drums. Yuka, the Kitsune, had the flute and Cole was there opening a small accordion case and staring periodically at Nimue. A man who looked Romany was tuning a guitar and a Nixie fiddle player, and a wood sprite with something that looked like Celtic pipes of some sort, were picking up the tune. Nimue shouted something over the music as the song neared its end and the rhythm made a tight change. The music morphed and a faster more intense song started as more bodies gathered in the clearing, whirling flickering undulating in the firelight. Coloured fairy lights glowed overhead. She watched a Sylvan girl twirling and swaying to the music, her loose hair flying and her nearly transparent dress revealing the silhouette of her willowy body against the fire.

“Come on,” Rowan tugged at her hand.

“I . . . I . . .” Rhiannon stammered.

“You're not the heir to the throne here. Just let go tonight. Everyone will sleep till noon tomorrow. Tonight there are no rules.”

She looked at him and he stopped tugging at her hand.

“Come my love. Come dance with me. Please,” he said softly, pleading again.

She let him pull her into the firelight and as she did she heard Cole's accordion join the melody. With a voice like an angry street kid, proud, forthright, devil may care, he joined Nimue on the second chorus harmonizing with her. Rhiannon borrowed a little courage from that voice and let go just a little. She looked at Rowan. He was one of those people who just knew, intuitively, instinctually, exactly, what to do with his body when the music played. She let go a little further and felt the drums through the forest floor. Her heart pounded in response. Rowan took her hands and pulled her closer and that was it, the music took over. She could hear Nimue and Cole's voices weaving together with more confidence and she threw up her hands and followed until all that was left was the music, the fire, and Rowan and they danced as the moon spun overhead. The throbbing drumbeats kept everyone on their feet. As the night spun by she saw Thaylum sitting in the trees watching, and caught sight, through the forest of bodies, of Nessa dancing with the green antlered man. Rhiannon let the rhythm and her sister's voice tug at her heart as Rowan pulled her back into the dance and the gypsy guitar guided her hands. She swung her hips and pounded the forest floor with her feet. She grew hot and pushed back her hair, undid the top buttons on her blouse and rolled her sleeves then let go once more, relinquishing herself to music more intense than anything she had ever heard before. This is what it is, she thought, to be Fay. This wildness. This freedom. This is a homecoming. This is a part of me. Of what I am.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, as if even dancing were not enough for the intensity that they felt, they ran hand in hand away from the clearing with the music still guiding them, and in the hollow of a tree they lay down, bare skin against the forest floor and the moon above.

“You're glowing,” Rowan breathed looking at the multicoloured flickers rising off her skin and floating around them.

“So are you. Like amber in the sun,” and he was, like bits of it were caught in his loose hair and reflecting off his skin. And she pulled him down to her and the dance continued until they cried out together and lay there under the spinning moon, staring into one another's eyes in the light they had made together.

*

Rhiannon wasn't sure how long they'd lain there. Years, minutes. It didn't matter. “I love you. You know that right? I know I say it, but I need to know that you know I mean it,” she whispered.

“I can feel your love leading me into forever. I know that you love me every time you look at me,” Rowan answered, his voice low. “You know that I feel the same?”

“I know . . . I know . . .” she whispered back and she ran her hand over his hot dry skin and they lapsed back into silence and stillness for who knows how long.

*

“Your skin is starting to feel cool. Lets go in. All that's left is the flute. Let's go in before it stops so that we can pretend that this night never ended,” Rowan murmured running his hands over her cool arms then passing her her clothes.

They dressed and wove back through the trees as the lone flute played its wistful melody. She spied Yuka, sitting by the remains of the fire, her instrument raised gracefully to her lips. When they reached their door Rhiannon looked down at the moon on the ocean. She could see so clearly and it was impossible to miss the two black heads emerging from the water. Cole and Nimue. Their white shoulders showing above the waves, arms around one another. She looked away, into Rowan's eyes, his beautiful face. “My love,” she whispered.

“Come. Let's go to bed.” He opened the door and smiled. A fire had been built in their hearth and the room was warm and welcoming. “We can get the leaves out of our hair in the morning.”