Enchanted Summer

by Samantha Rose

  The rage simmering inside of the young princess threatened to tear her apart. It was so strange for anyone to feel so much resentment in such serene a place as the Enchanted Forest, but dryads were immune to certain types of magic, so they could feel the whole specter of emotions, unlike the human souls visiting the place.

  Ariadne dropped her cutlery on her plate. The food tasted sour, just like that whole conversation, and she wasn’t hungry anymore.

  “Are you trying to say that I’m stupid?” Her head snapped up and her eyes bore into her father’s, who, unlike her, remained calm and collected. He casually took a crystal goblet from the table and drank from it. “I’m not a child anymore. I can perfectly understand what is going on.”

  Both of her parents shared the same hair color as her, but while her mother’s hair was as long as Ariadne’s, woven into a multitude of intricate braids, her father’s was cropped short. The only feature they didn’t have in common was eyes. Her father had green ones, and her mother had blue.

  “Ariadne.” Her mother frowned slightly and shook her head disapprovingly. “Please, behave.”

  Ariadne folded her arms over her chest and took a deep breath. It happened every time she opposed her father or argued with him in any way. Her mother was always short of shutting her up. She herself scarcely disagreed with him, preferring not to meddle in his business. That’s how she was raised, Ariadne supposed, but she could never understand it. She secretly hated that her mother tried to instill the same level of obedience into her.

  Ariadne ignored her.

  “This is the way our kind has lived for thousands of years,” her father continued. “You can’t change everything just on a whim.”

  “Who even set those rules?”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The Forest itself,” he replied. “Nature.”

  “That’s not true!” Ariadne cried. “Nature gave us our powers. It didn’t write any laws.”

  “It implied it. Every power comes with the rules regarding it, and you can’t deny it.”

  “This is ridiculous. You’re trying to attribute the existence of those laws to the Forest itself, while it was our folk who invented them all along.”

  She could barely sit still in her chair anymore. Her whole body was shaking.

  “One day you will understand,” her father said, still impassive. “It’s not uncommon for your age to be selfish.”

  “Selfish!” Ariadne cried out. She got to her feet in mere seconds, her eyes glittering with frustration. “I’m the one who wants to help, while you and all our ancestors just sat on a shiny throne for centuries, doing nothing, and that makes me selfish?!”

  She threw her napkin on the table. She was done here. So done.

  Before her mother could stop her, she was flying out the door and through the maze of sparkling hallways, up the winding staircase, and into her personal chambers. She slammed the door shut, the wind chimes under the ceiling tinkling agitatedly in her wake.

  Ariadne dropped down onto a chair by her vanity and released a long exasperated breath, rubbing her temples. Then she looked up and caught her reflection in a mirror.

  Her long white hair occupied most of it. It swept past her waist and cascaded down to her knees, curling just slightly. Slowly, Ariadne ran her fingers through it. As her breathing evened out and her heart stopped galloping in her chest, a decision formed in her mind, growing stronger with every second.

  She reached across the vanity and opened a wooden box encrusted with gems. From the inside of it, the princess extracted a pair of scissors. The metal gleamed in the ray of light filtering through the roof made of crystal as she bunched all her hair at the nape of her neck and cut it.

  A soft knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” Ariadne said.

  She knew who was coming before she saw her face reflected in the mirror. She wouldn’t have let anyone else in.

  Lady Bronwyn’s concerned expression transformed into the one of horror as she regarded her ward and the heaps of snow-white hair scattered all around her vanity table.

  She gasped, clapping her hand to her mouth. For a moment, she just gaped at it all.

  “Your hair!” she exclaimed as soon as she could speak. “W-what have you done, Highness?”

  Ariadne could swear she had never seen her tutor so shocked.

  “I cut it down,” she explained as coolly as she possibly could. “Don’t you remember me telling you at least a hundred times how sick I was of always having to take care of it? It takes too much time and energy, and I think it’s unfair and even cruel to burden servants with such trivial a task. Just as I wouldn’t want to spend my own powers on such an unnecessary matter. Besides, I never liked having long hair. I’ve always wanted to cut it, but my parents never listened.”

  “But your mother loved it!” Lady Bronwyn lamented. “She will be devastated to find out.”

  “She’ll live through it. It’s hardly the end of the world. And this is my hair, after all. Out of all the things in this kingdom, I should be allowed to make decisions at least regarding that.” Ariadne smoothed the tips with her fingers. “Now, would you come here and help me to trim the ends?”

  Ariadne blinked, and she was back in the living room, the slightly warm cup of tea still on her lap. Her short hair tickled her cheeks, reminding her of that day. She liked it. It suited her much more than the long one and made her stand out in the long line of her ancestors, all of whom had hair down to their knees. It was somewhat of a family tradition, and she was the first one to break it.

  Her parents weren’t pleased, of course. Her father pursed his lips and said nothing, but his gaze clearly told Ariadne that it would be another thing to add to his long list of her misbehaviors. And her mother even cried. Ariadne lied when she tried to pretend that it wouldn’t bother her at all. Seeing her mother’s tears made her heart ache more than she expected. But despite it, she still held firm to her decision. After all, she had done nothing wrong.

  Ariadne caught Nate watching her curiously from the other side of the piano. He played a little and said a thing or two while she was taking a trip down the memory lane. But he didn’t insist on her replying.

  “What are you thinking about?” he finally asked when he caught her looking at him.

  Ariadne blinked again, the last of her memories fading away. “Nothing,” she said simply.

  Her heart was filled with so many emotions. So many conflicting feelings. She wanted to share, but at the same time, she wasn’t ready to share. Wasn’t sure she should share. And somehow he understood and didn’t press her.

  Ariadne was incredibly grateful for that.

  Just sitting with him, drinking tea and listening to him play the piano and share his thoughts on this or that from time to time, was enough.

  That night, Ariadne lay sleepless on her bed in the guest room. The events of the passing day and her late conversation with Nate turned over in her head while a moonbeam penetrating the window played on the skin of her arm, making it shimmer.

  “Can I ask you something?” the memory of Nate’s voice echoed in her head.

  He’d called out to her across the hall before stepping into his own bedroom about an hour ago.

  Ariadne whirled around, her eyebrows slightly arched. “Yes?”

  Nate cast his eyes aside for a moment. He seemed to hesitate before forming up a question.

  “That world … which you came from …” He paused, then gazed into her eyes. “Did you have anyone there?”

  Ariadne’s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes grew larger; she hoped Nate didn’t notice.

  “W-what do you mean?” Her voice trembled a little.

  Nate’s gaze was firm on her. “Parents,” he answered calmly. “Friends. Any other acquaintances. Anyone who would miss you.”

  Ariadne let out a tiny breath of relief.

  “Yes.” She nodded much more confidently. “I have lots of them.”

  Nate’s eyebrows creased. H
e was silent for a moment.

  “And do they know that you’re here?”

  The question seemed to pin her to the wall—like a butterfly on a collector’s table. She knew she had every right to refuse to answer. Say it was none of his business and shift right there and right at that moment so that he could ask no more questions.

  But she couldn’t do this any longer. The more time she spent in his company, the more she wanted to open up to him, share her deepest feelings and concerns—the way he did with his music.

  Ariadne cast her eyes to the floor. “They’ve probably … figured it out already,” she murmured.

  She didn’t glance up until she heard Nate speak.

  “So … they don’t know?”

  She wasn’t sure if the hesitant tone of his voice meant he was judging her or just not sure what to think. Knowing him, it was probably the latter, but Ariadne couldn’t help but think how much she wanted him to understand, to be on her side.

  She heard him take a breath. Before she could start to explain, he spoke again.

  “Either way, it’s your life. You have every right to decide how, where, and with whom you want to spend it.” He shook his head, chuckling. “I’m certainly not the right person to tell you what to do and what path to choose. But if you’d ever want to discuss anything—or need a sounding board—you know where to find me.” A gentle smile touched his lips. “Good night, Ariadne.”

  He was almost through the door when she’d found her voice.

  “You are the first person to tell me that.”

  Ariadne didn’t perceive how or when one of her hands clenched the other, and her wings had probably started to tremble uncontrollably again. It was one of the things she hated about herself—always being an open book, every single emotion spilling out from her at the slightest shift in the atmosphere.

  Nate halted at the entrance to his bedroom, clutching the door handle, staring at her. His lips parted a bit, but then he smiled again.

  “You were my first listener.”

  Ariadne froze. She wanted to say something to him, but all the words seemed to evaporate from her mind. A moment later Nate wished her good night once again and closed the door, a smile still lingering on his lips, and she’d found herself alone in the empty hallway, her hands clutched to her chest.

  And now she couldn’t sleep.

  Ariadne blinked away the image of Nate smiling at her from the doorway and got up from the bed. She threw open the window and perched on the windowsill, letting the cool night breeze play with her hair and wings.

  That morning, she woke up and immediately set off to find Nate. As he usually woke up earlier than her, Ariadne thought she’d find him in the kitchen. But he wasn’t there, and the living room was empty as well. His car was still parked in the driveway, and he wasn’t in any of the bathrooms, so that left her with only one option. Ariadne lingered for a few moments by the door of his bedroom, brushing the doorknob two of three times before finally twisting it and peering inside.

  Back at home, breaking into somebody’s personal chamber—especially if it was a bedroom of a male unrelated to you—was considered highly inappropriate; scandalous even. But Ariadne knew that in this world rules weren’t as strict. And even if they were, as soon as she stepped in, she couldn’t bring herself to go back.

  Nate was sound asleep on the bed, the early morning light turning the tips of his light brown hair almost golden. Ariadne barely noticed how she tiptoed across the carpeted floor, inching closer and closer until she was leaning over him, exploring him like a precious jewel in a case.

  His ears weren’t pointed, and there was no glimmer to his skin. No wings at his back. No power emanating from him. And yet there was invisible magic in the air all around him. She could swear there was a whole universe hiding inside of him.

  Ariadne didn’t realize what she was doing—how close she had come to touching his face—until his eyelids suddenly trembled, and a moment later he was blinking at her, so surprised to find her by his bed.

  A memory set Ariadne’s face on fire. She buried it in her hands, shaking the feeling of embarrassment away. What was she thinking? Who did she think she was to let herself come so close to this human?

  What was she even doing there? She didn’t belong in his world. The time was ticking away.

  Ariadne shook her head and blinked away the tears of frustration that had almost welled up in her eyes. A swarm of moths from the garden surrounded her, and the glowing flowers chimed somewhere in the distance—a sound so familiar to the dryad’s ear. Ariadne stretched out her hand, letting the insects explore her honey-scented skin. In any world, they were always drawn to her, big or small; and they always followed her commands.

  Leaning back against the window frame, Ariadne cast her eyes to the big glowing crescent of the moon and just for a moment let herself imagine how different her life would be were she somebody else.

  Fourteen

  The next day, she was following Nate as he walked along the row of similar-looking two-story houses. Hidden inside her own little bubble of light, Ariadne moved from one bush to another, concealing herself from the curious eyes of humans—even though there weren’t many of them around that afternoon.

  Unlike the previous day, the weather was much cooler, hazy sunlight filtering through the overcast sky. They had breakfast in the morning, during which they barely talked at all, and then Nate asked if Ariadne wished to visit his friends with him. Having not much else to do, she agreed right away; and as soon as he was ready, they set off.

  Nate said they could drive there if Ariadne wanted, but both of them didn’t feel like sitting in the stuffy car that day and preferred to walk—or, in her case, fly—to their destination.

  As she passed one human garden after another, Ariadne couldn’t hold herself from pausing from time to time to offer her help to creatures in need. Unlike in the forest, most of the plants in the gardens were well cared for, but an occasional cry for help still reached her dryad senses. Branches broken by a recent storm, a neglected potted plant hanging on the front deck, dying from thirst and the lack of nutrients, a random insect—a bug, or a butterfly fallen into a birdbath—all called to her attention.

  She picked up a fallen gardenia flower from underneath the potted plant itself on one of the porches, and barely escaping a red fluffy cat who had launched at her from the windowsill, dashed toward her companion.

  “Here you are,” Nate chuckled, spotting her in the air above him. “I was starting to think that I’ve lost you.”

  How many times do I need to tell you? Ariadne thought to herself. I always know where you are. You just need to trust me more.

  And she dropped the gardenia flower into his palm.

  Or at least she hoped he’d catch it—and he did.

  Twirling the flower between his fingers, Nate examined it curiously. “Hey, what’s that?” He sniffed it. “It smells kind of unusual.”

  I really should teach you the names of the plants, Ariadne contemplated. I know you probably think it’s trivial, but one day you’d thank me for that. But oh, look at that poor old apple tree!

  And she left him again, rushing to aid another creature in need.

  By the time they’d reached the house, Ariadne felt a bit exhausted and out of breath. It concerned her a little—she was sure that her energy levels were still pretty high. But she’d never experienced such fatigue back in the Enchanted Forest, and the thought left her uneasy.

  How long would she be able to sustain herself away from the source of magic?

  Nate rang the bell, and immediately they heard the barking of the dog coming from the inside of the house. A moment later, the front door opened.

  “Nate!”

  Ariadne recognized her right away, even though she looked much different than yesterday. Wearing just a plain T-shirt and leggings, her hair tousled and half-wet—probably from the shower she’d just taken, and with no makeup on, Mimi looked much younger than before. Withou
t having to feel for her energy, Ariadne knew that she was highly abashed to find Nate at her doorstep.

  “Hello, Mimi.” Nate flashed her a smile.

  Mimi’s face turned red in milliseconds.

  “I thought … my package had arrived …” she murmured, still staring at him in disbelief.

  “I texted Ray earlier and asked if we could come. I thought he’d told you.”

  Mimi started shaking her head, one of her hands brushing a heap of hair away from her face, when she paused and looked up at Nate, her eyebrows twisted in puzzlement.

  “We?” she repeated.

  But before Nate had a chance to answer, the barking grew louder, followed by somebody’s yell, and a moment later a giant furry dog jumped out onto the front porch.

  Ariadne went rigid. Instead of taking off and hiding in the nearest foliage, which she usually did in such circumstances, her first instinct was to shift and clutch at Nate’s arm. Mimi almost stumbled back at her sudden appearance, but she quickly recollected herself and dove down to capture the dog.

  “Shhh, Ollie, it’s okay. It’s our friends. Don’t you remember Nate?” She ruffled his fur, holding onto him tightly.

  But the dog’s attention was hardly on Nate as he crouched to the ground, growling viciously.

  Feeling her touch on his back, Nate reached out and took Ariadne’s hand. She squeezed his fingers back.

  A second later, footsteps sounded from the hallway, and Hanna appeared at the door. Her eyes swiftly traveled from Nate to Ariadne to Mimi holding Ollie to the floor.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “It all makes sense now. Hello, Nate!”

  “He’s never been like that!” Mimi glanced up at her friend. Ollie struggled in her grip.

  “That’s because she’s here.” Hanna nodded at the fairy. “Dogs can sense supernatural beings.”

  Despite her fear, Ariadne flared up at the word. “I’m not a supernatural being!”

  “Well, you are.” Hanna shrugged. “At least, in our world. And we’d better hide you somewhere before he goes crazy and hurts somebody.”