The Invitation

“We’ve got mail,” Aerin trills loudly, bursting through the front door of the Glade family house. 

The sudden noise jolts Clara out of her early morning trance. The gears in Clara’s mind, which are so rarely halted, spin back into action, and the sleepy fog that had engulfed her quickly disperses.

Clara sets her mug of tea down on the kitchen table in front of her. Glancing through the oval window leading out into the foyer, Clara catches a glimpse of her elven mother as she closes the front door with a large stack of envelopes clutched in her right hand. All but a strand of Aerin’s short, sand-colored hair hangs loosely behind her pointed ears. 

“Looks like there’s a little something for each of us,” Aerin says as she flips through the envelopes and slips her shoes off by the door. An excited grin spreads across her face, and she plucks one of the envelopes out of the stack.

 Aerin glides through the foyer toward her nymph wife, whose attention is still firmly planted in her book. Aerin waves the letter in front of Iris’s face as she passes her lounge chair.

Iris absentmindedly reaches for it with her free hand, but Aerin pulls it away playfully and sets it back on the stack as she continues walking to the kitchen.

Sighing, Iris rolls her eyes, but an amused smile sprouts on her lips. She sets her book upside down on the arm of her chair to keep her place and lifts her teacup from its spot, cradled in her lap. After a quick sip, Iris charms the cup and leaves it floating in the air beside her. 

With a yawn, she removes the blanket from her lap and reluctantly stands up. She stretches her arms overhead, letting her large lavender wings unfurl like a blooming flower.

“Stella, come downstairs. You have mail,” Aerin yells as she passes the staircase, entering the kitchen and bringing with her a blast of cold air from outside. 

The sun hasn’t been up long enough to return warmth to the dry air of the Celestian desert, but the earthen walls of their home still hold enough of yesterday’s warmth to keep the cold from penetrating inside until now. 

Clara’s lavender wings wrap instinctively around her like a shawl to keep the breeze from her bare shoulders. Being only half-nymph, her wings are much smaller than her mother’s and can’t fully cocoon her. At least they provide some protection from the chill. 

Clara takes another sip of her tea, letting the heat seep into her body and warm her from the inside. In just a few hours the heat of the day will make Clara miss this morning chill, but not yet.

“Good morning, Clara dear,” Aerin says lovingly as she sets the pile of envelopes on the kitchen island and adjusts one of the spaghetti straps of her pretty, yellow sundress. Clara shivers at the sight of her mother’s bare arms, but Aerin is obviously oblivious to the cold. 

Elves like Aerin and Stella have a natural tolerance to both cold and heat, making the daily temperature fluctuations in Celeste easy for them. Clara often wishes she had inherited this resistance from her elven genes, but alas, the only elven traits she seemed to acquire were her pointed ears and the inability to fly.

Aerin smiles and plucks another cream-colored envelope out of the stack, sliding it onto the table in front of Clara.

Clara’s gaze falls to the envelope, and her forest green eyes glint with recognition as she sees her name written in a familiar script. The handwriting is unmistakably his, though, it has been almost a decade since she’s seen it. 

She lowers her mug to the table so gently that it makes no noise as it meets the counter. Clara stares at the letter but makes no move to reach for it. She barely registers the soft, fast footfalls of her sister running down the stairs. 

At the bottom of the staircase, Stella swings herself around the banister, her long golden hair flowing behind her. She skips into the kitchen grinning broadly. As she comes to a stop next to her mother, her hair catches up to her and cascades around her shoulders. 

“Good morning,” Stella says with a smile, kissing their mother’s cheek as Aerin hands her an identical envelope. It’s the same size, shape, and cream color as the one still sitting untouched on the table in front of Clara. As Stella turns it in her hands, Clara can see it has the same handwriting. 

Iris is the last to make it into the kitchen with her teacup floating along behind her. She makes her way around the kitchen island to stand next to her wife.

“Good morning, love,” she says, wrapping an arm around Aerin’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” Aerin replies with a smile, handing Iris another cream envelope. 

Clara’s eyes dart to Stella as she hears the sound of ripping paper. She sits frozen as Stella pulls the letter from its wrapping. Clara’s breath catches in her throat as her little sister’s sapphire-blue eyes flick from side to side, quickly reading the words enclosed.

Stella squeals with delight. “Amor is hosting a pairing ceremony, and we’re invited! That’s so exciting!” she squeaks.

“Pass,” Clara says with a delayed exhale, sliding her unopened letter off the edge of the table with a flick of her wrist. It falls with a satisfying thud into the trash bin below, and Clara lifts her mug smugly to her lips to take another sip. 

“No, Clara, we are definitely going,” Iris says quickly, rounding the kitchen island and reaching into the bin to retrieve Clara’s letter. “I haven’t seen Marigold in so long.” Iris pauses as she recalls the last time they had visited Floria. “Twenty-eight years now? Has it really been that long?” She looks toward Aerin for confirmation. 

“I’d say we’re long overdue for a visit,” Aerin confirms with a nod. 

“Plus, a pairing ceremony is an important milestone in a nymph’s life. We should all be there to support Amor,” Iris adds, pointedly placing Clara’s invitation back on the table.

As Iris steps away to refill her teacup, Stella steps forward and snatches up Clara’s envelope. Tucking a strand of her golden hair behind one of her pointed ears, she begins tearing into the invitation.

“I’m surprised at you Clara,” Aerin states, drawing Clara’s attention momentarily away from the invitation in her sister’s perfectly manicured hands. “You used to look forward to our Floria visits. I mean you basically learned to read calendars by counting down the days to our next trip.”

“And the hours and the minutes,” Stella retorts, pulling out the invitation and quickly scanning it. She must have found what she was looking for because a devilish smile spreads across her face.

“I know you and Amor have sort of lost touch lately, but you were a big part of each other’s childhood, and I think you would regret not being there for him on such a big day,” Iris says.

“Remember your pairing ceremony?” Aerin laughs, smiling at Iris and nudging her with the back of her hand.  

“You mean our pairing ceremony.” Iris chuckles, catching Aerin’s hand in hers and spinning her around. 

“Well, it certainly didn’t start that way,” Aerin jests, slipping her free arm under Iris’s and pulling her into a tight embrace. She raises their clasped hands, leading her wife in a quick turn around the kitchen island. Iris smiles and rolls her hazel eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Clara says “I’m pretty busy getting ready for the Beltane council meeting. As you know, I will finally be presenting my proposal for my garden design. Plus I can’t leave the farming tower in the middle of the dry season,” Clara says, grasping for excuses to stay home.

“Bullshit!” Stella interjects. 

Aerin gasps and releases Iris, turning to repremand her daughter, but Stella dismisses her reaction with a wave of her hand, keeping her electric eyes focused on Clara. 

“I’m sure Jan and Greg can handle things just fine without you and if not, farming always has fae willing to fill in. And your proposal to the council isn’t until the seventy-third of Laolisil. We should be back from Amor’s pairing ceremony by the forty-third,” Stella says, countering Clara’s excuses expertly. 

“Plus,” she continues “I know for a fact you’ve had your presentation ready to go for years now. You’re just obsessing over minute details, and what you really need is to get out of your head a bit.” Stella moves around the kitchen island so she can put her hands on Clara’s shoulders. “And what better way to do so than by being a candidate at a Florian pairing ceremony?”

“Candidate?” Clara’s mind catches on the word, and the devilish grin returns to her sister’s face. 

“Oh yeah, Amor has invited us to attend as candidates,” she says waving Clara’s invitation in front of her. Clara takes the invitation and scans it. 

Sure enough, it reads “Amor Aiday invites you, Clara Glade, to participate in his pairing ceremony as a candidate.” followed by the dates and locations of the various events. 

“Fuck,” Clara whispers. 

“Girls, language!” Aerin reprimands. 

“Clara, sweetie,” Iris interrupts putting her hand on Aerin’s shoulder to soothe her. “If you really don’t want to go, you’re old enough to stay here on your own, but…” she pauses, trying to find the right words.  “I’m not sure what happened between you and Amor, but maybe this would give you two the opportunity to work things out.” Seeing the skeptical look on Clara’s face, Iris adds, “I’m not saying you have to explore a romantic relationship with him, but your mother and I would like to see you two repair your friendship, and who knows, maybe inviting you as a candidate is Amor’s way of extending an olive branch.”

Clara rolls her eyes. “Isn’t the whole point of being a candidate in a pairing ceremony about exploring a romantic relationship with the host?” Clara asks. 

“Not necessarily,” Iris responds. “I mean yes, the point of a pairing ceremony is for a young nymph to find a romantic partner to bond with, but it’s common for friends to be invited as candidates. In Florian culture it’s considered an honor to be a candidate, and some fae would consider it rude to invite an eligible guest as anything but.” 

Iris looks to Aerin for assistance, but their younger daughter tags herself in.

“Please, Clara, give it a chance,” Stella begs, “Remember when we were young, and we would play dress up and pretend we were candidates in a pairing ceremony? All the dances and the frilly dresses. Forget Amor! It would be so much fun to actually participate in one together. Please?” 

Clara hesitates, meeting her sister’s pleading gaze. 

It is a fact well-known and often exploited by Stella, that Clara has a hard time saying no to her younger sister. 

“Fine,” Clara agrees, bubbles of regret forming in her stomach the moment the words leave her mouth.

“Fabulous!” Stella exclaims. “Don’t worry about packing. I’ll handle the outfits so I can make sure our dresses complement each other without being too matchy.” She kisses her sister on her cheek and disappears up the stairs before Clara can change her mind.

Clara glances back at her mothers, already regretting her decision while simultaneously worrying about what exactly her sister would be expecting her to wear. Her mothers give her sympathetic smiles. 

Clara sighs, downing the rest of her tea in one big gulp before heading up to her room to change for work. At least she wouldn’t have to agonize over what to pack, and ultimately, she knew her sister would pick things that would suit her.

Fashion was Stella’s superpower. 

Stepping into her room and closing the door behind her, Clara sighs again. She looks at the invitation still in her hand. Silver stars decorate the edge of the thick card, the dates of the various dances written in a beautiful bold font.

Clara slides open her dresser drawer and grabs her work clothes. She changes, brushes her hair and teeth, and then she is off to the farming tower.