As they get nearer to the center of the maze, they meet other kin on their way to the revelry. All of them are young and dressed in bright colors, often with flowers and feathers embellishing their already glittering appearances.

We are woefully lacking sparkle.

“If we want to surprise them with our appearance, I can just take off my veil,” Croi thinks to her other self, grinning.

“What’s so funny?” Tinder asks.

“I just realized that we are very underdressed for the occasion,” Croi says solemnly.

“You are, not me!” Tinder says, and flies in front of Croi so she can take a look. The pixie is dressed in a gown woven with brown and gold threads. Little daisies decorate her hair, while gold pollen gives her face a soft glow.

“Glamour?” Croi asks flatly.

“Yep!” Tinder replies. “Forgive me my vanity. Do you want me to—”

“Nope.”

“Sorry.”

Their conversation peters out as they reach the two trees that construct the entrance to the center of the maze. Croi stops behind the tree and peeks into the space. The center of the maze is much larger than she thought it was, and it is full almost to the point of choking with kin. A trio of musicians are playing on one side, and people are dancing in the middle. Tables laden with food are located on the sides. Kin talk, laugh, and flirt; they all appear deliciously free of worries.

Croi looks at them and feels her entire being ache with a feeling she cannot find the words for. Is it grief, envy, or sadness? The taste is bitter in her mouth; her eyes are hot, and her chest hurts like her heart is breaking, one crack at a time.

“Aren’t we going in?” Tinder asks.

“You go first,” Croi replies. She senses the pixie hesitate and nods at her. Tinder launches off Croi’s shoulder and plunges into the crowd. A long moment passes before Croi takes a step inside and then only because she can no longer deny her hunger.

She walks over to the food tables, wondering what delicacies they offer. The first thing she sees are clusters of white grapes, the kind she saw in the garden. These are moon grapes; they are ripened by the light of the moon rather than the sun. Breads of several kinds, sweet and savory, occupy a large portion of the table. Desserts made of sugar and cream, cakes with filigreed icing, candied dates, edible flowers stuffed with meat, fish thinly filleted kept fresh on ice, chilled wishing water, and so much more.

Croi takes a grape and pops it into her mouth discreetly. Sweetness bursts in her mouth, and she hums in delight. Maybe she will fill a plate and leave, eat somewhere else with her mask off.

“Come here!” someone says in a loud whisper in front of her. Croi opens her mouth when she recognizes Mabh, whom she saw not an hour ago in the grape garden. Now Mabh is pulling a younger Aodh by the hand. Food forgotten, Croi follows them out of the center of the maze to a more secluded corner not far away.