“You bet.” Dad closed the door behind him and went downstairs humming an Irish tune, probably one that had been playing in the campground.
As she turned off the water in the big tub (still cold), Keelie wished she could grab a hot shower in Sir Davey’s RV. She was heading toward the kitchen to shut off the water there, too, when a pebble hit her arm. “Ow!”
“Sorry,” a voice called up from the clearing below. “Thought the window was closed. Can I come up?”
She went to the window, still rubbing her arm, and her eyes met the rueful gaze of a tall, wide-shouldered boy with blond surfer looks that seemed out of place in this medieval fairy-tale land. But he belonged here, more than she did in the opinion of some. A full-blooded elf, Sean o’ the Wood was the head of the Silver Bough Jousters. Better yet, he was Keelie’s boyfriend.
“Dad’s gone back to the campground. I’ll come down.” Keelie didn’t have a problem asking Sean up, but Ren Faire gossip was worse than the gossip in small towns.
She put Cricket on the ground, skipped down the wooden steps, and flung herself into Sean’s arms. He held her off the ground and kissed her deeply before setting her on her feet again.
“Ready to go? I’m starved.”
“Raven’s here. Can we stop by Janice’s to see if she wants to join us?”
“Sure. Raven is fun.”
They held hands as they crossed the clearing. Keelie felt flushed and happy to be with Sean. Their relationship had been rocky at times, but she’d recently discovered an answer to a troubling question about her future, so she felt that nothing could come between them now.
Okay, so she was sixteen, and though Sean looked about nineteen, he was actually eighty-six. But he’d looked like this for most of his very long life, and, as Keelie had found out on her recent trip to the Northwoods, she too would live an elven lifespan-six or seven hundred years. With that much time ahead of her, there was no rush to do anything.
At the Green Lady Herb shop, light glimmered from the windows in back. Keelie and Sean walked around to where a small stone patio held two chairs and a worn bistro table. Potted plants were everywhere, and the stimulating green smell of the growing herbs energized Keelie. She knocked on the back door as Sean hung back to avoid crowding the little space.
Janice opened the door, brows raised in inquiry, then immediately grinned.
“Keelie! Oh, honey, you’ve grown.”
Keelie hugged her. “Thanks.” Why did adults always say that? She hadn’t gotten any taller.
A whoop sounded from the dim interior and Raven appeared, black curls twining over her shoulders, skin glowing pale.
“Keelie!” She pulled Keelie from her mother’s arms and they danced a fast whirl of welcome that spun them out the door and onto the patio.
“And Sean!” Raven grinned at him. “I hear you went on a heroic mission to the North Pole.”
“Not that far north,” Sean admitted. “But close.”
Raven hooked an arm around Keelie’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much. Hubby fills me in on all of your adventures. Giant trees, goblins, the fairy High Court. You don’t rest, do you?”
Keelie shrugged. “If I stop, Lord Elianard stacks the homework even higher-may as well stay busy,” she joked. “It was kind of scary at times, though.”
Raven’s smile faded. “I’ll bet.” Elianard’s name had probably reminded her of his attempt to steal the horn of the Wildewood unicorn, now her husband. “How is old Elianard, anyway? I noticed that his snooty daughter isn’t lording it over the girls in the court this year.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Lady Elia is close to term, expecting her first child.” Keelie heard the note of wonder in his voice. Births were rare among the elves, who considered themselves a dying race, but Elia had gotten pregnant right after her marriage, giving elves all over the world hope for their future.
“Fab.” Raven didn’t seem excited at the thought of a mini Elia. “Want to come in and sit down? Cramped quarters, but I can put the kettle on for tea.”
“We’re headed to the Poacher’s Inn for dinner and thought you might want to come along,” Keelie said.
She hadn’t finished speaking the words before Raven vanished inside, returning with a black denim jacket. “Headed to the inn for dinner, Mom,” she called. “Bring you back something?”
Janice’s voice drifted back from the front of the store. “No thanks, hon. Be careful.”
Raven closed the door. “Mom’s been getting a strange vibe from your new neighbor. Have you met Hob?”
“Not yet. We just got here.”
“Hob the Hottie we call him.” Raven laughed as Sean growled at her words.
The three friends swapped stories as they headed toward the Poacher’s Inn, which sat on the shores of a little lake used for pirate battles. Its broad decks provided a great view of the watery hilarity. At this hour, the boats were tied up, oars in racks, and fiddle music wafted through the air, adding extra sparkle to the golden glow from the inn’s windows.
Except for crickets and the neighs of horses from Equus Island, where the elven stables were, the music was the only sound tonight.
Keelie cherished this quiet moment, walking with friends, the sounds of the night around her. It was peaceful, and she hadn’t had much peace lately.
Sean pulled open the door to the inn and all peace vanished in a blast of rowdy laughter, drums, and bagpipes. The fiddle they’d heard must have been somewhere on the faire grounds, because it would have been inaudible in this racket.
Keelie and Raven shared a grin and waded into the crowd of Rennie revelers. A curving sweep of bar had been added along the wall facing the lake, and it was full, as were the tables that filled the floor space.
“I’ll find us a table.” Sean had to almost shout to be heard over the din of voices and music.
Raven dragged Keelie to a table where a group of girls were laughing as one of them tried to meld belly dance with a Highland fling.
“Guys, do you know Keelie Heartwood?”
The girls turned to them with smiles and Raven introduced them. The three closest were Marcia, Lily, and Tracy.
“Fairies,” Raven said, rolling her eyes.
The three giggled.
“Wait till you see our wings. Glittery,” Tracy said. “I play Lavender Lollipop.”
Keelie thanked the Great Sylvus that she’d never had to don wispy costumes and glittery face paint and pretend to be a fairy, though the girls seemed proud of their jobs at the faire.
“Your cat’s here,” Raven shouted in her ear. She pointed toward the bar, where a fat yellow tail hung down. The rest of Knot was obscured by a blond giant with long dreds and iridescent dragons tattooed on his mighty arm muscles.
“Who is that?”
Raven gave her a playful shove with her shoulder. “Vangar, your other new neighbor.” She licked her lips. “If I weren’t married… ” Then she laughed. “Just kidding.”
Vangar. A guy that big could not work in the mask shop, and those giant muscles seemed likely to be the result of much hammer-wielding, so he must own the forge. Keelie congratulated herself on her brilliant deduction.
“Your other new neighbor, if you can drag your eyes away from mighty Thor, is Hob the Hottie, the mask maker. He’s over there with his fan-tourage.”
A dark-haired, handsome man was speaking to a group of women who seemed to be enchanted by his words. This was the guy that gave Janice a “strange vibe”? He seemed pretty normal.
“Add your dad to the mix, and your hill is the place to be. You can look forward to lots of low-cut bodices and hip-waggling action in front of Heartwood,” Raven said, laughing, no doubt at the dismay Keelie was sure was plastered on her face.
Sean waved his arms and Keelie led the way to a table by the bar. From here she had a great view of Knot, who was listening intently to Vangar, a shot glass of golden liquid in front of him.
“Does your cat drink Scotch?” Sean’s tone implied that he’d believe it.