I'm surprised by a carpet of spongy blue moss covering the floor as I step into the room. I know there's a particular name for the waiters passing trays of hors d'oeuvres, but I can't remember.
"Are you hungry?" Jonah asks.
I squeeze his arm tighter as he guides me further into the room. "You're so sweet. No, I ate a little dinner. Honestly, there's no room for expansion in this dress."
Elves usually stare at me when I walk around town, but tonight they're being even more aggressive about it.
"You look very pretty," Jonah says. Is he trying to explain why the crowd is studying us?
"I think they can't believe I had the nerve to show my face."
Jonah sighs but doesn't comment as we make our way through the tables scattered about the crowded room. Giant bouquets of every flower imaginable hang from the ceiling, and the walls are covered in a thick blanket of pink vines that bloom in tiny yellow flowers.
"Isn't the nature stuff more of a faerie thing?" I mumble.
"Yeah, Princess Elaeria was responsible for the design. She must have enjoyed her time in Manahata."
"It's beautiful. Like an indoor garden, only better," I say, but he doesn't hear me because a couple of elves are greeting him. I stand and smile, but they're speaking Naga-Nuru. I'm getting better with the language, but only when Albína talks to me.
The biggest issue I have is that there's no spacing between the words. It adds a beautiful melodic quality, but I can't tell where one word ends, and another begins. Some words can only be spoken on an inhale or exhale, but that's not true of all words. And other words have to be started on an inhale and end on an exhale. There's also many rules that contradict each other.
A hard slap on the back draws my attention. "Tōpī tapā," Solara shouts with a wide grin. "Who knew you could look like this? You're beautiful!"
I don't respond right away because I'm distracted by her hair, which is teased up into a giant blonde curly ball atop her head. It has to be two feet across. Her dress is yellow with embroidered vines that are actually growing and blooming across the skirt. The bodice of the dress is so tight I'm surprised she can breathe, let alone move.
"Tōpī tapā. You're stunning. Very high-fashion and editorial. You match the theme well, too," I shout over the music.
"Let's dance," she says, grabbing my arm.
I flashback to the happy time she and Dathid had before the Chimnockies betrayed us. She partied all five days. That was so long ago; it doesn't feel like my memory. It's like it happened to a different person.
Solara yanks on my arm. I can tell by her creased brow that sadness has crept across my face. I smile, but she's not convinced. I follow her to the dance floor. The idea is to be happy and live. Dead loved ones don't want the living to suffer. But I'm not supposed to pretend to be happy; I have to force myself to be truly happy, to smile, and laugh, and want to get out of bed.
We line up in rows, the males on one side facing the females on the other. When the music starts, I have no idea what I'm doing, but everyone enjoys my efforts and pushes me in the right direction. I forget everything and laugh for real for the first time in a long time.
The cape, jacket, and collar are discarded halfway through the night. One of the punches must have alcohol in it because I'm lightheaded, or maybe tons of grief, pressure, guilt, sadness, and rage have lifted from my shoulders. There will always be a hole in my life where Trelix and Lenox used to be, but I have some hope that I might be able to live without them, and not be crushed by the guilt of doing so.
Because there are faeries in attendance tonight, the elves play a few faerie songs that require only two people to dance. The elves only dance in groups, so there's an awkward shuffle to find partners when their songs are played. I weave my way to the edge of the dance floor, but I'm halted by a handsome faerie in a green jacket and matching kilt.
"Sir Agatha, I apologize," he says with a bow.
I'm not sure why he's apologizing. I shrug my shoulders and turn to move around him, but he steps to the side blocking my path. I freeze when he grabs my hand.
"Please forgive my forwardness. I am Qince, Dathid's cousin."
I slowly look up at his gorgeous face. "Hi," I say stupidly.
"Would you do me the honor of this dance?"
"No," I say automatically, then realize, too late, how incredibly rude that was. "I mean, I can't. Wait. What I mean is, I don't know this dance. I don't know any of these dances. I can't dance."
He smiles at me, and I forget to breathe. "I could teach you."
The color drains from my face. He's still holding my hand. Without waiting for my answer, or asking my permission, he pulls me to him. We join the crowd on the dance floor, and he puts his other hand low on my back.
I automatically put my hand on his hip. Big mistake, all I can think about it is where my hand is. I stare straight ahead at his shoulder and move my feet as best I can to keep pace with his.
He lowers his head and whispers, "This would be easier if you relaxed. It is a party." His breath goes across my good ear, and my heart does a fluttery thing that sends a chill down my spine.
My eyes are too wide when I gaze up at him. I can't make them blink. Faeries should not be this handsome. He's definitely related to Dathid because he resembles a younger version of him. They share the same dark hair; only Qince wears his long. The eyes are different, the color obviously, Qince's are a deep green compared to Dathid's blue, but the shape is different too. Qince's are rounder. Now that I study him more, his whole face is rounder. Dathid's is angular, whereas his face is softer, less threatening. Why am I studying this guy's face, and why am I comparing it to Dathid's?
I snap my gaze back to his shoulder and pray I didn't gawk too long. I don't think I did, but I wasn't paying attention. How long is this dance?
The song finally ends, and I awkwardly jump out of his arms, which makes him laugh.
"Come on, I want to introduce you to a few friends," he says, wrapping my hand around his firm arm. He leaves his hand over mine locking it in place. I've never been this aware of my fingers in my entire life.
I let him drag me off the dance floor and through the thick crowd. He can see over the heads of most of the party-goers, so navigation is easy. Soon I'm seated at a table of faeries that seem to be about my age. These are the faeries that Dathid brought back with him to help continue the peace. Tensions are high, but everyone's been cordial.
I'm introduced to all five of them, but none of their names stick in my head. The nice thing about the Manahata faeries is that most of them have some experience with English. I've had few people to talk to since I've been here. I just wish I had something to say. Everyone is so beautiful; it's like I got picked to sit at the cool table. Unfortunately, I don't belong here.
"I love your dress," the pretty blonde faerie next to me says. She's so perfect and tall, she could be an actress.
"Thanks. Your's, too," I say and run out of words. I wouldn't mind having people my age to talk to, but this group is out of my league.
"Are you enjoying Cromsmead?" the pretty faerie asks.
"Yes." I should say more, but I have nothing to add. I've only known one faerie, and I usually say the wrong thing to him.
"Who are you mourning?" Qince asks.
My brain seizes. I don't want to say Lenox. It feels disrespectful to mourn a pet while others here are mourning children and spouses. But then, not saying Lenox's name seems disrespectful to him. He was my best friend, my buddy. I loved him, and he loved me, and it's my fault he's dead.
"Qince, you're such a Cumkwat. She was having fun, and you upset her," the blonde faerie says.
I force a smile to my face. My eyes are watery, but I hold back the tears. I have to live. Guilt is selfish.
"My brother died," Qince says, cutting the silence with a sledgehammer. "I don't enjoy telling stories about him. A few made me laugh, but for the most part, they make me sad. How many stories have you told?"
The elfish tradition says that I must tell stories about Lenox, preferably funny ones, but touching ones are good also. "None," I say. I'm not ready to laugh at Lenox yet.
"How did you get away with that?" Qince asks loudly.
"Cumkwat," the blonde faerie repeats.
He fires a comment back in Gàidhlig. Whatever he said, it makes her angrier. She looks as if she might stab him. Instead, she makes a terse comment. Then they talk over each other with increasing volume.
"I see my friend Jonah over there. I'm going to just pop over to say hi," I say awkwardly while attempting to escape. They don't notice until I'm on my feet, turning to leave.
"Oh, don't go," the blonde faerie says.
"I'm sorry, he's already seen me and waved me over. I'll be right back." It's a lie on two counts. I have no idea where Jonah is, and I will definitely not be returning. I doubt I have anything in common with them anyway.