This put me at an impasse. On the one hand, I could believe him and forgive him for all his shortcomings that resulted in the screwy mess I called my life. On the other hand, I made sure I knew him first before exonerating him from his crimes.
“I’ll join you for dinner,” I conceded. “But you can’t expect anything more.”
He nodded. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but if he was disappointed, it didn’t show. “Very well. Tonight you shall feast. On the morrow, you must travel to the pixies.”
I stuffed the box in my pocket. Father led me out the door. Though I felt I’d made the right decision, a feeling of guilt gnawed at me. Would I ever be close to my father?
We followed a narrow footpath overshadowed by the huge, cypress-like trees. I spied several fairy homes in the swaying green boughs, their twinkling lights shining through bits of pinecone shingles and acorn tops.
If you’d taken me to the moon and then dropped me back on the world, I would know instantly which reality I’d entered simply by listening. The insects of Earth chirp with life, with energy, but not with magic. In Faythander, magic envelops the trees, the grass, and every living organism. It gives them music unique from anything Earth can produce, a melodic hum that strikes a chord deep within the soul. It was so beautiful that when visitors from Earth crossed back home, the forgotten memories shattered them to the core, almost like experiencing death.
I realized how lucky I was to remember both worlds.
We turned off the path and onto a wide, cobbled street that led us under the city wall. Sounds of voices echoed around us as we entered the city’s inner courtyard. Elves filled the street. In the moonlight, children darted past us, wearing bright oranges and reds and pinks. Their parents waited under the awnings, their clothing more simple and drab.
Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, elves went through a transformation that changed them from bright-eyed creatures who danced in the moonlight to secretive automatons who hid in the shadows. I hoped I never became one.
Bill Clinton suggested I take time to dance in the moonlight just so I wouldn’t become one of the drones.
The children grabbed hands and spun in a circle. A little girl noticed me. She giggled, an infectious sound that made me pause, and then she waved to me. I left my father’s side and grabbed her hand.
“What are you doing?” Father asked me. He stepped back as I almost tripped him. A gentle night breeze blew past, warming me. The elven children clenched my hands. Their faces were giddy, their cheeks rosy with the invigoration. They laughed, and though everything in the world seemed to weigh me down, I forgot it all, and I laughed, too.
When they finally broke apart, I crossed back to my father, who stood with the other elven parents under the awning. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve made a spectacle of yourself.”
“Yes, I know. But it’s better than the alternative.” I wouldn’t become one of those drones. I refused.
He raised an eyebrow, then led me toward the city’s main spire. His robes whooshed quietly. I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead, wishing I could have danced a little longer. How was it that children could so easily forget all their worries and live in the moment? I swore that someday that would be my life. Someday, I would live in a place where I could simply live and not worry about anything else. A tiny, nagging Albert told me it would never happen, but I tried my best to ignore him.
We passed shops and wide, sprawling libraries, most of them already closed for the evening. On my infrequent visits to Lauressa, I’d always found the place fascinating, with its tall towers and wide arches connecting them. Everywhere I looked I found order, a completely mapped-out space that only an idiot could get lost in. (And yes, I’d gotten lost on almost every visit.) This time at least, I could follow my father through the well-marked and brightly lit passages.
A crowd gathered as we arrived at the palace. We stood in line until we made it through the gate and into the main citadel. Shiny copper-colored tiles covered the large, open spaces inside the castle. Marble statues of past elven royalty decorated the rooms. Vines that reminded me of ivy grew along the walls, giving the palace a feeling of serenity. Pools of water ran along the floor and dropped into shallow waterfalls. The architect had kept the acoustics in mind when designing this place. Everywhere you went, you were sure to hear the calming sound of flowing water.
As we approached the main hall, smells of baked bread and spiced sauces greeted us. My mouth watered, and I realized how little I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.
At the end of a long hallway, twin oaken doors stood ajar. A steady flow of elves passed through. Most wore robes of dark, depressing colors and long hemlines.
We followed them through and entered a domed room. This space was evidence of elven architecture at its finest. The golden dome rose gracefully into the sky, allowing sunlight to pass through during the day and stray moonbeams to illuminate it at night. Fairies fluttered through the air. I noticed tiny fairy houses built artfully into the twelve pillars that surrounded the room. A circular table sat atop a raised dais in the center of the space. Long rectangular tables fanned out from the table in the middle, creating a sunbeam pattern with the table in the middle as the sun and the other tables as the
