Free Elfmoon by Leila Bryce Sin Page A

without harming or influencing humans. If Roxy and I planned to dance to raise magic, The Garden was the only place we could legally do it. When humans talked about dancing, it was a physical expression done to music; when people like me talked about dancing, we meant sex. And though we lived in a tenuous harmony with the human community, they still weren’t comfortable with all of our customs, and our freedom with our bodies was definitely one of the things that still upset a good deal of the humans.
    “Yes, to both,” I said as we walked into the fairway and were struck with the noise, heat, and smells of so many foods, fires, and people. It was wonderful. I was happy with the jean skirt and black tights I had worn with my favorite flat leather boots and light sweater. Though the night was cool and I was chilled walking here, it was so warm inside the festival you couldn’t tell.
    “Good!” Roxy said with a little clap and jump, making her dark curls bounce behind her. We had both left our hair loose, knowing the chance of keeping our hair pretty and neat in an updo was a longshot, especially if we visited The Garden. Other than our hair, Roxy’s outfit was totally different from mine. She was wearing her gold sandals that laced all the way up her claves and a very short summer dress that tied at the back of her neck; if you pulled that tie loose, the whole thing would fall off. I doubted she was wearing anything under it. I laughed quietly; I knew she was more excited about The Garden than the bonfire, but she’d go to both with me if I wanted. I did want; I wanted to breathe in the smoke, let it wash over and through me to cleanse me and make me feel new.
    “But first,” I said, “I am eating something.” I quickened my pace and weaved through the crowd, angling towards a booth that had the most intoxicating smell emanating from it. When I got to the front of the line, I found that they were selling pastry wrapped sausages.
    “How many?” the brownie man asked, his pointy, brown fingers clutching a pair of metal tongs.
    “Two, please,” I ordered, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet as I took the paper wrapped goodies from him, passing him a few coins before handing one of the sausage rolls to Roxy. We turned and melted back into the crowd as we unwrapped our treats, biting into them and groaning in pleasure as the pastry flaked in our mouths and the hot juices burst to life. By the time we were through the first row of vendors, we were licking our fingers clean and searching for an ale booth.
    With our honey mead in hand, we strolled through the vendors selling trinkets, magical amulets, and all manner of things. Roxy snickered behind her cup as we passed a group of human girls inquiring about love potions from a Dark Elf of the North. Dark Elves were so rare in our area, and so mysterious, the guy could have been selling them tadpoles for headaches and the girls would’ve paid double for them. I stopped at a jewelry booth to admire a necklace with a star made of twined ivy as I sipped my mead. The mead was thick and rich, sweet and salty.
    “A star of the Shide,” a man said at my shoulder. I turned to look at him, lowering my cup. The man was taller than me by about half a foot and his shirt clung to round shoulders – I always liked a nice pair of shoulders – hanging loose at a narrow waist. His was an easy smile and I noticed one of his incisors was chipped.
    “Excuse me?”
    “The charm,” he said, nodding towards the necklace I had been eyeing. “You see, the star is made of intertwining ivy and leaves, and there are tiny chips of amethyst braided into the design. It is a star of the Shide.”
    “The Shide,” I repeated, pronouncing it shee as he did. “You mean the fair folk?”
    “Aye, exactly.” His accent slipped, making me quirk an eyebrow at him. He smiled at me again. I noticed the sparkle in his bright green eyes, and I knew the matching green of his shoulder length