The Fairest Kind of Love

by Crystal Cestari

  “You know what?” I take Charlie’s hand, leading him into the golden crowd. “We should dance.” He smiles in agreement, glowing from cheek to cheek.

  A slow, string-tinged ballad creates a hush as couples wrap their arms and wings around each other. A few pairs take flight, tangled together while feet drowsily dangle in bliss. The sun has finally set, so the world is nothing but a twinkle, flickering embers and winking stars casting a luminescent blessing. Though dozens of fairies dreamily sway and twirl around us, in this magical moment there’s only Charlie and me, holding each other with hearts wide open. Feeling his skin on mine, breathing in his warmth, I can almost push away my matchmaker worries completely, plunging myself so deep in the present it drowns out the future entirely. How could anything be better than this, truly? How could anyone make me feel so safe and yet so electrified at the same time?

  I lean on his chest, his heartbeat echoing through my veins. If Jane reveals Charlie’s not my match, would that change the way I feel? Would I want him less? We’ve been through so much, at this point I feel like we could conquer anything, especially when his lips meet mine. I know I can’t predict my own match, but this just has to be it. I feel it deep in my heart, my veins, my soul. I love him to the ends of the world and back, and besides, how could something this good not be right?

  At the end of the song, I spy Jane’s minty head swerving through the crowd, and my heart leaps. I call out to her, grabbing Charlie’s hand as we swerve through the dancing couples to meet her.

  “Amber!” She reaches out for a hug, looking adorably sweet in a floral sundress and crown of wildflowers.

  “You’re free!” I (only kind of) joke. She giggles, happily swinging back and forth so her pretty dress can twirl around her.

  “Yeah! My parents wouldn’t let me miss the summer solstice, no matter what.” She grins. A few steps behind her is Rose, the only fairy dressed in black, though she has styled her short lavender hair with streaks of sparkle.

  “Hey,” she says, purple wings flat against her back in guilt. While her lips bend in remorse, she keeps her eyes steely just to remind us that she’s tough. “Sorry about before. I may have jumped to conclusions.”

  May have? Okay. “No worries.” I smile, keeping it light.

  “It’s just that I’ve had a lot of relationships fizzle out due to people using me,” Rose admits, eyebrows pinched. “And since you were being so sweet with Jane, I didn’t want that to be true of you.”

  “I get it.” And I do. How many classmates approached me just because they wanted to know if their crush was The One? People rarely ever talked to me for me, a truth that got old real fast. I was always eager to share my magic, but it wasn’t great being treated like a destiny vending machine. “I want you to know that I am here for Jane, though. No matter what.”

  “Good.” Rose smirks, wings fluttering with satisfaction. “Then we’re cool.” Yes! Friendship achievement unlocked!

  “Amber, who is this?” Jane asks, innocently pointing at the fella beside me.

  And now, the moment we’ve literally been waiting for. “Jane, this is my boyfriend, Charlie.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Jane.” He takes her tiny hand, lightly kissing the top, bringing a rush of color to her freckled cheeks. I consciously block out the lights, music—everything—around me so I can hyperfocus on this meeting and how Jane reacts. As they take each other in, I examine her face, searching for a sign, a hint of recognition in her little eyes. Does she see me when she looks at Charlie? Is what she saw in me echoed behind his frames? She stares at him, a warm smile spreading across her face, and my fragile heart does somersaults in my chest. Would she look that happy if she saw someone other than me looking back at her? No, no way, right? Unless she’s one of those hopeless romantic types who geek out over any example of love. At her age, I would’ve lost my mind if a couple I envisioned was standing right next to each other. Heck, I still would freak out. The expression on her face is pure joy, and for a few enchanted moments, I let myself believe in my own happily-ever-after.

  But we’re interrupted by loud coughing behind us. We turn just in time to see Ivy collapsing from her seat, fainting into a bed of moss.

  PETER KNEELS AT IVY’S side, glowing more sherbet than ever. Just like his fairy family members, he’s completely covered in dust, giving him an otherworldly presence. But now his party enjoyment melts away, and he crumples beside her, careful not to touch her with his golden fingertips.

  “Ivy!” He’s panicking, looking her up and down.

  Jane clutches on to me, sobbing into my dress. “Amber,” she cries. “She can’t die!” But I don’t know what to say. Did Ivy get the chance to tell Peter about her history, to ask for a wish to save her life? Her unconscious body makes me think not, or he would have helped her already. Will he be willing to save her now, or is this really the end for Ivy Chamberlain? Heart in my throat, I stroke Jane’s tiny head, hoping my attempt to calm her will help soothe the churning dread in my gut.

  Amani joins our circle of fear, clutching a mason jar of fairy punch. Eyes wide, her free hand covers a gasp; was this the danger she envisioned? There’s no time to ask as Peter’s hands hover over Ivy’s fallen body. Scared, desperate, he looks like a prince poised over his Sleeping Beauty, a mixture of love and fear in his eyes. “Has she ever used dust before?” he asks us.

  “No,” I answer. Up until she lost her powers, I don’t see why she would’ve needed it. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, there’s no time like the present.” Peter flies to the nearest fairy dust barrel, grabbing a heaping scoop in his hands. He quickly shakes the sparkles over her fallen body, not unlike how I use a sugar sifter at home. Then he leans in with intense focus, cupping his hands around her jawline, thumbs resting on her cheeks. He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I wish for her full health to be restored.” Instantly, the dust ignites, bringing color to her pale skin. The warmth spreads, setting her face aglow, trickling down her neck, shoulders, arms, all the way to her toes. Amani takes my hand, and we watch to see how and if fairy dust really can cure all. Will Ivy awaken a snarling, heinous beast, or will the dust simply revive her to the regular amount of siren evil we knew? Whatever the outcome, it’s too late to go back now, as Ivy’s ghostly skin has returned to her usual golden tan, blond locks full of luster. When she opens her eyes, dazzling baby blues greet us all.

  “Ivy? Are you okay?” Peter questions, breathless at the transformation before him. “You look . . . you look . . .”

  “Yes?” she asks expectantly.

  “You look . . . well.” He blushes, bewitched by the radiant creature before him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you feel good enough to stand?”

  She smiles, the kind of grin able to melt boys’ hearts down to butter. “Let’s dance instead.” Ivy stands, fluffing out her shiny hair. She puts her hands to Peter’s chest, getting more dust under her nails, and presses her lips to his. He shrinks back a bit, surprised by her sudden forwardness, but still wraps his shimmery arms around her waist. He kisses her again. And again. And the more they make out, more of his dust transfers onto her body, empowering her further. They come up for air, and Ivy, equally covered in dust now, pulls Peter to the dance floor, a dopey expression on his face.

  Fairy dust works. It totally works. Not that I doubted it, but seeing the stuff in action is a lot different than having its powers described. The immediacy of watching a problem solved by this fairy magic fills me with longing, and against my better judgment, I find myself inching toward the nearest barrel, staring into the glittering possibilities. Would it be so bad, dealing with a dusty consequence? Could it be any worse than the constant confusion and worry blurring my visions, driving me crazy day in and day out? I lean in, billions of shimmery golden granules tempting me, my fingers aching to reach in, make a wish, and see my troubles melt away. . . .

  “Well, that just happened.” Amani pops up next to me, breaking the
spell of the dust below. I gasp, heart racing over how close I was to giving in, and how much I didn’t care what happened next.

  Face flushed with wonder, Charlie adds, “That was some kind of miracle, right? Now Ivy’s a siren again?”

  “I guess so,” I reply, breathing deep to tame my runaway heart. Ivy’s alive. We did it! Her magic has been restored.

  But my relief doesn’t last long. The peaceful summer solstice vibe suddenly transforms into something deeply uncomfortable. It’s not uncommon for supernaturals to suss out others in the community, and Ivy’s resuscitation sounds the alarm. Like a telekinetic game of telephone, one by one the crowd takes notice, sensing an intruder in their midst. The awakening of a siren ripples through the farm, fairy wings standing at attention like a dog’s ears sensing danger. Charlie and I watch as confused, mistrustful eyes peel away from the party and toward Ivy and Peter, whose celebratory affection has caught them red(gold?)-handed.

  Before the masses pick up their pitchforks and torches, I scurry over to the endangered couple, still blissfully unaware of the attention they’re garnering. I tap Ivy on the shoulder, careful not to touch any of the dust that is now all over her neck, arms, and waist, who turns to me with her movie-star glow, all lashes and lips and glamour.

  “Hey, um, how you feeling, champ?” I ask, unable to get the words out quick enough.

  She laughs, touching her hand to her chest like she’s about to thank the academy. “I have to tell you, this fairy dust is no joke. I feel better than I ever have in my entire life. And that’s really saying something.” Peter leans in to kiss her cheek, setting off a string of giggles. “I feel like I could do anything, Amber. Anything.” The way she savors the word “anything” drops my stomach.

  “Cool.” I pull her just out of Peter’s earshot. “Have you talked to him about the siren thing?” Judging by the sappy look on his face, I’m guessing no.

  Ivy purses her lips, tapping a finger to her cheek. “It hasn’t come up. We’ve been a little preoccupied.”

  Gross. “Well, I’m no Amani, but I see a quick exit in our future.”

  “What do you—”

  Just then, Mama and Papa Wisteria fly over, purposely landing right in between their son and his siren.

  “Peter, what is the meaning of this?” Papa demands, gesturing wildly at Ivy like she’s a circus freak. She crosses her arms in defense, holding her head high. “You gave this girl fairy dust, without supervision?”

  Peter looks down at his speckled hands, unable to refute the golden evidence. “She fainted, I—”

  “So take her to the apothecary!” Papa bellows, wisps of ice-blue hair falling over his forehead. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

  Shocked by this response, Peter scans Ivy, trying to uncover what he’s missed. Ever since they met, he’s been smitten, filtering out any issues or flaws in his potential new partner, something we all do when relationships begin. Full of possibility and hope, we focus on what’s good, putting blinders on against anything we don’t want to see so we can just relish the moment. But now he takes a step back, out of the siren’s snare, and reason sinks in. Peter’s magical radar lights up, cluing him in to who she really is. Color drains from his face as the realization congeals.

  “Ivy, you’re . . . a siren?” Fairies murmur as the hurt in his words fills the air. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She tries a few innocent “Who, me?” eyelash bats before realizing those tricks won’t work here. “Well, technically, I wasn’t until a few minutes ago. . . .” She trails off, acknowledging her own lame excuse.

  Anger rolls into his eyes. “But you were, before, and you knew what would happen if you had access to dust.”

  “Not . . . officially.” Ivy bites her lip, ashamed. “But I had hoped.”

  Peter’s peachy wings flutter out to his sides, incensed. “You played me.”

  “No!” she cries, and the tears are falling so fast, I worry she won’t be able to properly explain herself. Surely crazy, I intervene.

  “She couldn’t manipulate you, Peter. She didn’t have her powers. And more than that, she was dying,” I reveal, transforming Peter’s expression from rage to confusion.

  “Y-you . . . what?” he stammers.

  Ivy nods, cheeks wet. “It’s true,” she whispers, wiping her face. “Without my magic, I was fading away.” The fairies chatter among themselves, unsure of how to react to this news. Clearly they’re uncomfortable with a siren being restored, but they wouldn’t just let another magical creature die, would they?

  Ivy takes a tentative step toward Peter, but Papa stands firmly in the way.

  “You’re a siren. You knew exactly how to get what you wanted, and you used my son and my family to get you there,” the patriarch insists.

  “It wasn’t like that,” she vows. “I mean, yes, I did come here hopeful for a cure, but then I got to know you and . . . things changed.”

  From the crowd, Jane appears, peeking out like a frightened woodland creature. She tiptoes over to her brother, a crown of flowers sitting atop her minty strands. “Pete, try to hear her out.”

  He glares at his own sister, unsure of who to trust. “Why should I? All she wanted was a wish!” He flaps his wings, floating a few inches above. The heat of the moment is taking over, our arguments losing steam.

  Keeping her eyes on her brother, Jane stands strong despite the chaos. “You don’t understand what’s going on. You don’t see what I see!”

  “And what’s that?” Peter crosses his arms with a cocky air. The sassiness does not suit him.

  All eyes turn to Jane: the weirdo, the outsider. If she reveals his match to be a siren, one of the most mistrusted magical beings there is, that’ll be it. The final nail in her coffin. She’ll be crucified—not literally, but no one will ever want to listen to her ever again. To be an abomination, and then match her brother to one? No. That would not sit well. And yet that is the truth. Not something she chose, but something that’s real. And something that needs to be known.

  So I step in, taking a bullet in the name of love, as I’ve done so many times and will certainly do again.

  “This siren is Peter’s match,” I announce to a horrified crowd. You’d think I’d said “Babies taste delicious!” the way everyone recoils in disgust. A couple of fairies actually cry out in shock, but I don’t let their repulsion stop me. “The two of them are destined for each other. I’ve seen it in both of their eyes, and it’s beautiful. Peter saving Ivy today was an important step in their love story. As their relationship continues to flourish, they’ll need your support. Your acceptance.” Mama Wisteria buries her blubbering pink head into Papa, whose face freezes like he just saw Medusa. Peter, losing the will to stay airborne, slowly touches down, eyes glazed in an unreadable expression. Excitement? Abhorrence? Embarrassment over my totally broadcasting his meant-to-be in front of literally everyone he knows? Whichever it is, he’s dumbstruck; I could probably knock him over with a feather.

  Ivy, on the other hand, is all lightness at the revelation. She covers her mouth to conceal her joy, but there’s no shading the sparkle in her eyes, which dance my way with a silent “thank you.” Two halves of a whole stand inches apart, miles of questions and unknowns between them.

  “I know some of you may be wary of matchmaking and how that magic works,” I continue, “but this is a good thing. No matter the union, nothing bad can come from two people in love.”

  “That’s enough!” Papa yells, silencing the crowd with his raised cane. “I won’t let this recklessness continue. You all need to leave, immediately.” He turns to his shell-shocked son, voice dropping several octaves. “Including you.”

  This demand snaps Peter back to life. “I had nothing to do with this!”

  “You had everything to do with it!” his father screams back. “You let yourself get tangled up in this mess, blinded by a dark kind of magic. This is not how we raised you.” Papa swings back to the rest of us, rage burning fr
om ear to ear. “Get out! Now! All of you!”

  Without a second thought, Peter takes off, flying straight toward the canopy until he disappears into the night. It’s kind of overdramatic, to be honest, yet I’ll give him points for tantrum flair. Rose takes off after him, as the rest of the fairies freak out, shrieking and crying out like the floor is suddenly made of lava. In the panic, Charlie and Amani manage to grab hold of Ivy, protecting her from the yelps of confusion and hysteria. But I can’t leave without checking on Jane, the only being standing still in the frenzy.

  “Hey.” I crouch down, placing my hands on her tiny shoulders. Her lip quivers, but she bravely forces a sad smile. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess. I don’t know,” she says, her small voice hard to hear among the commotion. “I didn’t think revealing my brother’s match would happen like that.”

  “Matchmaking is nuts,” I try to reassure her. “The reaction is hardly ever what you’d expect.” She looks at me, long and deep, and I know my future partner is dancing through her mind. I desperately want to know what she sees, but with everything that just happened, it’s not the right moment at all. Jane hardly looks ready to deliver romantic fates, what with all the confusion swirling around us. As much as I crave my match, I don’t want to pressure her, especially if the outcome isn’t what I’m hoping for. I know what it’s like to watch an adult’s hopes and dreams fall apart; I can’t pass that burden onto her tiny shoulders. I don’t think any of us could handle any more bad news at the moment. As much as I’d want her to, I understand now that she’s too young to help me.

  “Amber,” she whimpers, lip trembling. “What’s going to happen to my brother?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be okay.” I force a smile, knowing I have to be strong for her.

  “Can you help him?”

  I swallow down a groan. “Jane, I barely know him, and he just flew away to . . . Gods know where!”

  “But if anyone can help him, it’s you and your magical friends!” she yelps, tears forming in her sad little eyes.