"Maypole! Maypole!" someone cried, and the musicians came closer. Sky organized volunteers, male-female, male- female, and handed them each a ribbon. Then, as the music started, the dancers began to move in opposite circles, weaving in and under, over and under each other, and as we watched, the colorful ribbons were woven around the maypole in an even pattern of diamonds. It was beautiful, and I was glad we were continuing this old tradition.

Without speaking, Hunter and I linked hands, keeping one hand each free so we could eat and drink. When night fell, a huge bonfire was lit, and Hunter took me around, introducing me to people I didn't know. Everyone seemed to have a distinct reaction on hearing my name. I was about to ask Hunter about it, but then he pointed out where the star cluster Pleiades would rise, right before dawn the next day. At Samhain, six months from now, Pleiades would rise right at sunset. Beltane and Samhain marked the two halves of the year.

Hunter and I wandered away from the light and noise and music, talking about everything, huge, tiny, sad, funny. I had seen Patrice earlier for just a minute, and she had told me that Joshua no longer needed a feeding tube. His doctors were mystified, but he seemed to be shedding his illnesses like a snake's skin. She held my hand tightly and thanked me several times with an intensity that brought tears to my eyes.

"So Da and I are off to England in a month," Hunter said. We were far enough away so that we didn't need to speak loudly anymore. I sighed.

"Your folks still haven't made up their minds about Scotland?" he asked.

I shook my head. "They've spoken to Eoife, but they really don't understand why there aren't any brochures for them to look at or a Web site."

Hunter laced my fingers with both his hands. "I want you to go," he said seriously.

"I feel I need to," I agreed. "They haven't shot it down-at least not yet. They want to see my end-of-year grades, et cetera. I've actually been carrying good-luck stones in my pockets. The thing is, if you're in England and I'm here, I just don't know if I can bear how far away you'll be. If I'm in Scotland, you won't be so far away, and I won't feel so panicky."

"I know what you mean," he said. "I hate the thought of being separated from you, by any kind of distance or time. But I know I have to go home for a while to see people. Da is doing a bunch of workshops about the dark wave spell, and I'm going to join him for some lectures about this new bubble spell."

"I'm so proud of you," I said, squeezing his hand.

He grinned. "It feels good to do something of real use. To possibly prevent witches from having their powers stripped- witches who have just made bad decisions or are about to. And this could effectively lessen the council's power. Which might pave the way for a new council or an adjunct council."

We stopped then and looked around, realizing we had been walking and talking, so caught up in each other that we had gone farther than we'd meant to. I couldn't hear the music or laughter at all anymore, couldn't see the light from the bonfire.

We were in a tiny clearing, no more than ten feet across, with a perfect overhead view of the indigo night sky and stars. Around the edges of the clearing was an unusual ring of violets-the last violets of the season. It looked magickal, like fairies had created this place. And we had ended up here. It felt like fate, not coincidence, that we were here.

Then I looked at Hunter, and he looked at me. My heart fluttered, and Hunter led me to the center of the violet ring. He sank down on the fine moss and pulled me down next to him. The delicate, sweet scent of the violets perfumed the air around us as we lay side by side, and when I looked up, I felt like I could see all of the sky before me, as if I were flying.

"Morgan."

I looked in his face. He looked unusually solemn, the dancing light in his eyes strangely absent. Slowly he traced one finger down my arm, and I watched as his touch left a tiny trail of sparkling shimmer wherever it touched. Smaller and finer than sparks, lacking heat and leaving only the very faintest tingle, the shimmer continued down my side and onto my skirt, wherever he touched.

I held him to me and touched his face, his angular, carved cheekbones. To me right now in the moonlight, he seemed heartbreakingly beautiful-strong and masculine, familiar and intimately trusted. He had seen me at my absolute worst and still loved me. He had seen me sick, angry, making mistakes, being stupid-and he still loved me. He had been patient and kind, demanding and true. I loved him with all my heart and believed that he absolutely loved me-not because he said so, but because he showed me he did, every single day.

I took his hand and pressed it to my chest. I could feel him shiver a little, which made me smile. I loved the fact that this calm, cool ex-Seeker-a witch who was in control in virtually every situation-consistently lost control when it came to me. Then I coiled my hand around his neck and pulled his face closer to mine. He seemed hesitant, waiting, and to dispel any doubt I opened my mouth and kissed his, hard. I suddenly felt like I had opened a dam and was now being swept away by torrents of water much stronger than I was.

We moved together, our mouths locked, our arms and legs clinging to each other as tightly as they could. Hunter paused and kissed me gently, then pulled back and looked in my eyes, lifting his hand and making a slight motion toward the sky. Immediately I saw movement above, and then we were covered in a soft wave of flowers, flowers raining from the sky-roses, peonies, daisies, too many to count. I laughed. This was the joy of Beltane-this pure love of nature, of life, of love itself.

I looked into the deep green of Hunter's eyes, moved by the intensity of the love I saw there and stunned by the intensity of the love I felt for him. Was it possible for one person to care this much about another? I felt like I couldn't get close enough to him.

Hunter kissed me again, and legs and hands got tangled in my skirt. We were gasping in the cool night air, rolling together so that first he was on top and then I was. I loved having him under me, being able to hold his face in my hands, to feel like what happened was up to me. Which it was.

There, on Beltane Eve, celebration of fertility, life, and love, Hunter and I made our own celebration, our own timeless commitment to each other, our wordless promise to be true to our love, to protect each other, to revere and respect each other always, as long as we lived.

Epilogue

"You are going to miss me so much," Hunter said confidently. Another scratchy announcement said the flight to Cleveland was now boarding.

Morgan laughed. "You think so, huh?" She put her arms around his waist, aware that the flight to London was going to start boarding any minute.

"I know so," he said. Then he lowered his voice and pushed her hair off her neck. "And I know I'm going to miss you, so much."

"It won't be for that long," Morgan reminded him, feeling the telltale prickle of tears at the edges of her eyes. Do not cry, she told herself. Do not waste time crying.

"It will feel like a long time," he said. A man dragging a suitcase big enough to hold a dead bear pushed past them on his way to Gate 17. Hunter moved them a bit to the side. "I have something for you." He pulled a small box out of his pocket, and her eyes flared. Speechless, she opened it. Inside was a silver claddagh ring, two hands holding a heart between them and a crown on top of the heart. On the heart was the rune Beorc, for new beginnings.

"It's beautiful," Morgan breathed, her fingers clumsily trying to get it out of the box. He helped her slip it on.