Moon's Flower (Kingdom, #6)

Moon's Flower (Kingdom, #6) by Marie Hall


Dedication


Several months back I was pretty sure that Hook’s Pan was going to be my final installment of Kingdom, but because of overwhelming fan support for the series to continue I promised you all that I would. I’m thankful for each and every note sent my way because the truth is, writing this book helped me to realize just how much I LOVE this world and it’s characters and I may not have figured that out unless you all encouraged me to keep at it. So this is to every single one of you readers who begged for more. A writer is nothing without her fans…





Chapter 1


“Come, gather ‘round now. Gather round.” Danika spread her arms, silently urging the little ones to gather round the crackling glow of blue fairy flame. Her call echoed through all of the white rose flower garden. The moon was aglow tonight, brighter than usual and impossibly huge. Each craggy pock and dark mark stood out in shocking, bold relief. The trees danced with movement as the golden trail of light from fairy children heeded Danika’s call.

“Come, come. Hurry now.” She rushed them on. “The moon will not stay in the sky for days, the story must be told. Now, come on.”

“Danika,” a flower sprite squeaked, her thick brows bunched in consternation, “what is the rush? We do these tales every year and every year ye act the same way. Hurrrry, hurry. Bah.” Her accent grew stronger, the iridescent lilac dress she wore glimmered from the flickering campfire. Violet eyes pinned her with a disgruntled little glare.

Wind song rained down from the leaves in the trees.

The excited chattering of hundreds of twinkling fairy children created a circle around her. Danika smiled.

“Genevieve, as chipper as ever, I see.” Danika gave her a tight, little smirk. “Always great to have you here.”

The sprite stuck her tongue out, with her large pointed ears and cherubic face, she appeared more child-like than the little fairies surrounding them, not like the thousand year old flower sprite that she actually was.

“Dani. Dani!” The girls cried in unison. “Story time? We love stories. Who is it about this year, Dani? Tell us.”

The girls were dressed in the garbs of their birth. Tree fairies wore dresses of bark, flower fairies came in all colors and shades. Some wearing voluminous blue bonnets, others draped in the crimson red rose, some wearing vines of twisted baby’s breath. Their wings buzzed excitedly, their smiles were large and expectant and Danika ate it up.

This was her favorite time of year. When the nip of frost tickled her nose, the air smelled crisp and clean and white, and the fairy children learned a hidden story of Kingdom.

Stories so old that few remembered, few knew. Save for the keepers of the fairy tales and Danika. Because, well, she was old and often times got bored and liked to study the stories so long forgotten.

The tales of betrayal and desperate love, of heroic acts and spiteful deeds. Like the one tonight, the sad, lonely tale of the Man in the Moon.

Although this hadn’t been a tale she’d ever needed to study, this was a tale imprinted on her heart.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh.” She drew her hands up and down, placing a finger upon her lips. Her iridescent dragonfly wings buzzing loudly. “Calm down, or there’ll be no story tonight.”

A beautiful little primrose fairy clapped her hands. “Oh, Dani, I wait all year to hear your tales. What is it tonight, Dani? Tell us, please.” Her big, brown eyes sparkled with delight.

Smiling, puffing her chest out with a wee bit of pride, she waited until an expectant hush fell across the crowd. Even the churlish sprite seemed to lean in when the air around them crackled and sparked with anticipation.

“Tonight is the tale of the Man in the Moon,” she pronounced solemnly.

“Man in the Moon,” Genevieve curled her nose, wagging a doll like finger in front of her upturned nose, her high-pitched voice grating on Dani’s sensitive ears. “Come, come, Danika. I’d much rather hear the tale of the princess and the frog, or even of handsome Midas and his deadly golden touch. Why, even Humpty Dumpty would be preferable to the Man in the Moon. What a dreadfully boring man he is.”

Sighing, Danika rolled her eyes. Attempting to ignore Genevieve’s obvious attempts to needle her into throwing a tantrum in front of the children. But she would not do it; Danika was the epitome of professionalism.

Most of the time anyway.

Slipping the wand out of her vest in such a way as to keep it hidden, she muttered an incantation under her breath. A tiny little spell, one that would make the toadstool Genevieve currently sat on into a thorny, wooden barb.