The prince of spring doesn't really give me time to answer. And this is why I have prepared for this night and come here now anyway, so the question is kind of moot. In the end he picks up the pace and as I match him, he spins me into a first twirl. The first of many.

  Thankfully I only have to follow his lead. And he is pretty good at providing all the subtle cues I need. There simply is no way I could keep up otherwise, not even with my marvelous sandals and the rest of my enchanted gear.

  The prince's attention is not entirely focused on me. At times his gaze wanders towards the summer queen instead, who in turn is closely watching us. My own gaze is drawn to her too every now and again. She is a marvelous sight to behold as well after all. Possibly the only one beyond the prince, who outshines my own appearance tonight.

  I'd be worried, really worried, if I actually had more time to think on it. As it is, the feeling is a barely perceptible worry at the back of my mind. I have to focus too hard on keeping step with my dance partner. Especially as our movement becomes faster and more adventurous as we keep going.

  Under the watchful eyes of the queen of summer more and more of the people and fey join our dance. There is no stopping it, not that anyone actually tries to. As the number of dancers increases, so does the complexity of our movements, as we have to navigate the joyful, excited and at times already a little tipsy thickening crowd.

  It really is all very exciting and my heartbeat quickens considerably. In fact the more the excitement grows, the less I think about the potential consequences of the night. Am I getting drunk on dance? Is that even possible? Or is there some kind of magic at work I can't even begin to understand? I can't rule out either possibility and in the end I decide to not even bother. It is like it is. I just have to make the best of it.

  I'm so absorbed by the dance, it takes just about every bit of attention I can muster. Even by the time I have no more trouble matching my partner's steps, jumps and twirls, I don't pay much more attention to anything or anyone else. As a result the realization that we are drawing ever closer to the fire and the queen of summer dancing within it comes as quite the surprise to me.

  The heat of the great bonfire makes should make me sweat, but somehow it doesn't. The embers dancing in the wind should sting or in all likelihood set sheer cloth like that of my dress on fire, they don't though. Belatedly I realize that these dancing embers are not embers at all but tiny fey creatures, a little like pixies, except even more delicate. And their movements are not governed by the wind either, not completely anyway. No, they too are dancing.

  I don't get to marvel at this little revelation for long either though, as the dance draws me further away from the fire again, right through a throng of fauns playing various musical instruments.

  Another thing that is impossible to keep track of, at least for me, is the passage of time. I can't even gauge it by the measure of my exhaustion, as I'm not exhausted at all. Not even a little bit, although I probably should be. I'm not even feeling sore in the slightest although we have circled the fire at least several times.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Eventually I find myself breathing hard, as our dance winds down. At the same time I'm not actually out of breath. It's a weird, but not unpleasant sensation.

  The night is far from over yet though. This is curious in its own right. I have been half expecting for the prince to make the one dance I promised him last all the into the twilight of morning. It's not an entirely unreasonable assumption when dealing with fey and especially fey nobility, but it seems I was mistaken.

  As we come to a stop the prince lifts my hand, which he is still holding, to breathe a kiss upon it. A gallant gesture, I have to admit, even if he can't capture my heart like that.

  “Much as I would love to keep going, I can't usurp this night. Not in its entirety. My season is over. There still are other dances for you to dance after all and I can't deny the queen of the season to come the chance to at least ask you for a dance.”

  He winks at me, his expression speaks of mirth and mischief.

  “As sure as spring passes, it'll come around again though. Maybe we can meet to dance again on the eve of midwinter.”

  Before I can open my mouth to answer he gently places a finger against my lips.

  “Hush. Don't make any promises yet. We'll see if you are in the mood when the mentioned night comes around. If you are up for it though, I'd certainly enjoy the company.”

  And just like that is gone and in his place a whirlwind of blossoms spreads out over the clearing. That isn't the only change either. Not by far. Most dancers, both mortal and fey, have withdrawn to the edge of the clearing. Only a few, young women like me, as far as I can tell at a glance, remain out in the open.

  They and something else. Something with fur black as night and eyes that seem to burn like the bonfire. Something rippling with muscles. It's hooves paw the ground, leaving noticeable furrows. The curved horns aren't a laughing matter either.

  My heart misses a beat as I behold the wild auroch bull for the first time. It misses another as I realize that it has taken notice of me too. Oh good gods and goddesses, I'm supposed to leap over this monster? I'm not quite sure how I imagined the creature I would face, but this terrifying and magnificent beast isn't it. Not by a long stretch.

  I'm not the only one who's thoughts are following this path, judging by the reaction of the crowd. There are gasps and murmurs, but I barely take note of any of it.

  I barely hear anything but my own heartbeat. It resounds in my ears like thunder, as we lock eyes, and my mind is racing about as fast as my heart. I don't have much time to think anyway.

  One thing is obvious though. Running away is not an option. Even with my enchanted sandals I'll never outrun this animal. And even if I could outrun it, I would be the laughingstock of not just our village for sure. Never mind that the queen of summer would witness my shameful behavior. No, running really is not an option.

  I have to do as we practiced, even if it looked so much easier back then. With my resolve reaffirmed I lower my head, take one more deep breath and get running, straight at the great horned beast.

  I have no clue what is actually going on in the bull's head. I can't guess what a creature like it might think. Surprise might be among the most likely candidates, as I run straight at it. That doesn't last though and maybe that's for the best. After all my practices session with Feliks, Lotar and Rafal suggests that I'll achieve the best results if I can use the bulls momentum against it. Thus I'm not actually worried but a little relieved instead, when the bull lowers its head, scrapes the ground one last time and charges at me in turn. Weird as it may be, I even smile as we come at each other.