Page 46 of Wild Thorns

“The way you talk about each other, you and your brothers. It’s different from most families I’ve seen.” I struggled to find the right words. “Like you actually know each other, not just the surface stuff.”

He was quiet for a moment. The road curved ahead of us, the preserve visible through the trees on our left, and I could hear the distant sound of music drifting from town.

“We grew up close,” he said finally. “Closer than most.”

I felt his attention on me, steady and warm. When we rounded the corner and the festival came into view, he paused.

"Ready for chaos?"

"Bring it on."

The Founder's Festival was exactly what Jasper had promised: organized chaos on a grand scale. The town square had been transformed into a maze of booths and stages, the air thick with the smell of frying food and fresh-baked sweets. A bluegrass band played on the main stage while children ran past with cotton candy and sparklers.

The first thing I noticed, after the bunting, after the string lights beginning to glow as the sun dipped lower, were the crowns.

They were everywhere. Children wore them, circles of twisted ribbon in pink, yellow and sky blue, trailing streamers that caught the breeze. Teenagers clustered in groups, their crowns more elaborate: paper flowers woven into wire frames, silk ribbons layered in gradients from sunset orange to deep violet. Even adults wore them, though theirs tended toward simpler designs: a single band of ribbon, a twist of braided paper in muted golds and greens.

A little girl darted past me, her crown askew, its purple streamers flying behind her like a comet's tail.

"What's with the crowns?" I asked.

"Festival tradition." Jasper adjusted something on his collar, I realized with a start that he was wearing one too, a simple band of deep green ribbon that I hadn't noticed against his dark hair. "Everyone wears one. Prince and princess for a day."

"You're wearing one."

"Obviously," he grinned. "I'm a prince. Didn't you know?"

"Your humility is inspiring."

"It's one of my best qualities." He tugged me toward a booth draped in ribbons of every color imaginable. "Come on. You need one too."

The vendor, an elderly woman with silver-streaked hair and nimble fingers, looked up as we approached. Her booth was a riot of color: simple paper crowns for five dollars, more elaborate ribbon-and-wire creations for twenty, and a few truly stunning pieces displayed on velvet stands; intricate weavings of silk, wire and tiny crystals that caught the light like trapped stars.

"Jasper Voss." She smiled, showing a gap between her front teeth. "Back for another year."

"Wouldn't miss it, Miss Delphine." He gestured to me. "This is Serena. She needs a crown."

Miss Delphine's eyes sharpened on me with the same assessing look I'd been getting all day. "The girl staying at Thornwood."

"That's the one."

She studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Blue, I think. To match her eyes." She was already reaching for ribbons, her fingers moving with practiced speed. "Sit down, child. This won't take but a minute."

I sat on the stool she indicated, and her hands began working above my head, twisting and weaving. The ribbons were cool against my hair, soft as flower petals.

"First festival?" she asked.

"First festival."

"Then I'll make it special." I could hear the smile in her voice. "The crowns are an old tradition here. Goes back to the founding, they say. Everyone wears one on festival day: prince and princess, king and queen. For those who will never wear a crown of cypress, this is their day to be—"

"Serena!"

Jasper's voice cut through the moment. I turned to find him standing a few feet away, his hand extended.

"The band's playing our song."

"We don't have a song."