Page 100 of Wings of Reverie

“But you didn’t die, Selene.” Lord Milori’s voice was unwavering, awed, almost reverent. “Youlived.And much as you were lauded before for your speed, the fact that youfoughtis what the stories should be about. That you risked your life for others, and lived to tell the tale.”

Murmurs of agreement drifted like snowflakes through the crowd. Weaver’s eyes had never looked more hopeful.

“Your broken wings are a new challenge to reckon with,” Lord Milori said, eyes significant. “But your scars are an honor. And you—you, of all people, will always find a way to fly.”

Selene nodded. “I wasn’t ready to come back before. But now, I am.” She glanced toward Harlow again, who was back to catching snowflakes on her tongue. “And you’re right, Lord Milori. I found…Well. Not a way to fly, but something sort of like it. A way to start again.” When Selene met Periwinkle’s eyes, the corner of her mouth quirked into a knowing almost-smile. “After all,” she said, “no one is just one thing.”

“You’ve always been a spitfire. Still are.” Dougal swished a hand through the ends of his wife’s freshly cut hair, longing in his voice. “I was so bitter. But I’m finally beginning to see around my anger.” He paused, looking up at the gathered crowd of winter fairies. “I’m so sorry to everyone I’ve hurt. I promise, with all my heart, that I will do everything to make it right.”

“Everything changes,” Lord Milori said simply. “We can, too.”

Selene nodded. Her eyes skated over Dougal and Weaver, over the sled and the sky, like she was ready to find a way to chase it all again. Over on the hall threshold, the Keeper’s smile was wider than the glade.

“Hail,” Lord Milori called loudly. “Hail the return of Selene!”

“Selene!” the winter fairies shouted. Dougal, Weaver, and Selene embraced, and Periwinkle stood in the crowd, watching Weaver watch his friends with his heart in his eyes. Seeing him see Dougal get free of what had been gnawing at him, and Selene revel in the peace of coming home, she felt her own heart race with joy inside her.

“Fast-flying fairies,” Lord Milori called. “Search the hall to be sure no one is left inside. Dougal, can you see to anyone here who appears to need treatment?”

“I need supplies,” Dougal said. He ran a hand over his jaw, his face beginning to look guilty and helpless again. “Willow bark, melted ice—”

“Let me go back to the apothecary,” Selene said. “I’ll get everything.”

“But—” Dougal pinched his lips together, eyes suddenly anxious. Selene shook her head.

“I’m back, and I’m not going to disappear again,” she said firmly, cupping his face. “Let me do what I was brought to the Winter Woods to do. Let me fly.”

He took a long breath, then nodded, and there was trust in his face when he finally said, “Go.”

Selene leapt onto the sled, and with a spray of snow, she was off. Dougal began to move through the crowd outside the hall while the rest of the fast-flying fairies disappeared inside to help.

The sun had just begun to peer over the horizon when Weaver began to move through the crowd toward Periwinkle, wonder and weary joy written on his face.

The clouds were moving on. The storm was over. When Periwinkle wrapped him in a hug, it felt like clear skies and soft winds and the peace of the deep, deep woods.

“We should go to the well,” she said after a moment. “I just…I need to see it.” Weaver nodded wordlessly, and the two of them flew away from the noise in the glade.

The Pixie Dust Well was a quiet pool of gold when Periwinkle and Weaver reached it early that morning, ahead of even the dust-talent fairies. So Periwinkle sat beside the well, watching the light of the pixie dust reflect off the rock wall and the root, and Weaver sat beside her and took her hand.

“It’s over,” she said. “It’s finally over.”

“And the Winter Woods are safe. They always were,” he told her. “And our friends—all of them—are going to be all right.” Periwinkle nodded.

She was filled with relief for their home. And yet, when she looked at Weaver, anxiety sprouted inside her again, like a weed pushing up through peaceful earth.

“We did everything we set out to do. Selene’s home. Our job’s finished.” Periwinkle paused, taking a deep breath. “The question is—are we finished, too?”

Weaver turned to face her, dark eyes shining like stars. “Not even close, Sparkles.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, brushed his fingers over her eyelids and lashes. “I finally get to do the work I was meant to do. And you finally get to rest, and have dreams that are completely yours. And whatever the next big adventure is—” He smiled, eyes running over her face. “Whatever it is, we get to find it together.”

When Weaver kissed Periwinkle there beside the well, it was moonlight on silver and starlight on glittering walls and a golden web, catching her in a free fall. His long fingers cradled her jaw and she wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling anchored and untethered all at the same time. Every fiber of her glowed.

He glittered like a dream, and yet he was right there, solid in her arms. Better than anything her imagination had ever conjured, by day or night.

“Perfect Periwinkle,” he teased, lips skating over her temple. “Pretty Periwinkle. Popular, perpetually adored Periwinkle.” Weaver shook his head. “I didn’t fall for you all by myself, you know. You just pushed me until it happened.”

“You’re absolutely terrible,” she said. But she smiled up at him as she said it.

“And you,” he said, “are a dream come true.”