Meggie laughed. “Her Majesty’s as down-to-earth as they come.”
“You’ve met her,” Frode murmured, awed.
“She eats here at least once a week. Lillirelda had her first solids here.” Meggie smiled. “I’ve known the queen since she was a recruiter. Taylor tried to propose here.”
“I’m sorry.” Val raised her eyebrows. “Tried?”
“He had a terribly difficult time of it, dearie. Her Majesty…well, she was an OPMA major then, was trying to capture Nimue. She was very busy. Poor soul. I’ll never forget him sitting here alone, eating the waffle topped with whipped cream he’d used to hide the engagement ring.” Meggie giggled.
Frode’s face froze into a mask of horror, but Bodil leaned forward, absorbed in the story. “How did he propose in the end?”
“He decorated their apartment and invited a group of friends,” Meggie explained. “When she got home from capturing Nimue, he was there. Oh, and he brought her mom from the human world, too. Broke a few laws, but they forgave him.”
“It’s possible to bring humans to Avalon?” Val exclaimed.
Meggie nodded. “Under certain circumstances, dear, like close relationships. In this case, since Rosa is Julie’s adopted mother, it was fine.”
“I didn’t know that,” Val admitted. “I know Rosa is human, but it never occurred to me that she didn’t know about the paranormal world.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it? She fit right in. Now, let me get your dinner ready.” Meggie bustled away.
“Strange to think that King Taylor, of all people, had trouble popping the question.” Bodil gave Frode a pointed look.
His cheeks blazed, and he glared at her. “I suppose.” Frode cleared his throat. “Tell me, Eiravel, what brings you to Avalon Town?”
Val met Bodil’s eyes, and they shared a knowing smile.
“Little spark?” Frode prompted.
Val sat back. “It’s kind of a long story...”
“Stay close,” the brownie instructed. “Many of these plants are carnivorous.”
Val followed him down a stone-paved footpath in the botanical gardens behind the palace. “I was here for my knighting ceremony,” she reminded him, “but never in this part of the garden.”
“Few ever have that privilege.” Dylan’s tone softened. “It is a path I often walk.”
The tenderness in his tone made Val hesitate to ask why. She gazed at the trees surrounding the path. After a nap in Genevieve, she felt wide awake. The cool air that stirred the willow trees’ trailing fronds made her skin buzz with life. Creepers spread over the willows’ trunks, covered in purple flowers whose thick fragrance filled the air. They shaded the path, their delicate branches fragmenting the moonlight.
“This place is both secret and sacred to the Pendragons,” Dylan whispered. “You are greatly privileged to be here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Val promised.
The brownie waved a hand. Willow fronds parted in front of them, and Val stepped into a broad clearing flooded with silver light. Her boots sank into thick grass, but she didn’t look down at the lush lawn under her feet. The statues at the center of the clearing commanded her full attention.
They were life-sized representations of Lunar Fae carved from selenite. No, Val realized. Not carved. They were far too lifelike to have been cut with any tools Val knew. The glittering crystal reproduced every detail with smooth perfection: the spreading butterfly wings, the slightly parted lips, and even individual eyelashes.
She didn’t recognize the male fae, but she knew the woman beside him. She’d seen her face on dozens of TV programs and Avalonian dollar notes.
“Queen Esmerelda,” Val whispered.
“Indeed,” someone rumbled beside her.
Val whipped around, and her heart stuttered. A tall Lunar Fae stood beside her, magic oozing from every pore. His diaphanous wings were shot with black veins, and a silver beard spilled down the front of his royal-blue robes. His bearing was imposing, but smile lines crinkled his eyes, which held a sparkle of mischievousness.
“M-merlin,” Val croaked.
Merlin raised his chin. “Do you see, Julie? This is the type of respect I deserve as the most powerful mage in all of Avalon.”
“Yeah, whatever,” the queen yelled across the clearing. She stood with five other fae, knights in the High Magic Division, and returned to her conversation with them.
Val opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again.
“Starstruck, are we? I don’t blame you. I am quite splendid,” Merlin informed her.
“Stop basking in her awe and get over here,” another fae ordered.
Val’s knees were weak. Sir Bedivere stood at the center of the clearing beside the fae who’d spoken, whose face from the dozens of pictures she’d seen in history books as a kid. That was King Arthur Pendragon. There was no mistaking his pale skin and black hair. He gave her a friendly wave.
“What do you want, Artie?” Merlin demanded.
“Clarification on configuring the artifacts for optimal thaumatechnical wave harmony,” King Arthur responded.
“What?” Val squeaked.
Merlin patted her on the head. “Nothing you need to understand.” He strode to Arthur.
