The next morning dawned with unusual brilliance, even for the Summer Court. Ali woke to find sunlight streaming through her window in tangible rays, as if the approaching solstice was concentrating the very essence of summer into visible form.
During breakfast, the great hall hummed with excitement. Fae nobles discussed preparations in musical whispers while servants hung additional decorations—garlands of flowers that bloomed in cascading waves of color, chimes that played fragments of ceremonial songs when the warm breeze touched them.
"Final fittings today," Sage reminded Ali as they finished their meal. "And then joint rehearsal for the ceremony." She lowered her voice. "I heard the Queen herself will be observing."
Before Ali could respond, Melody-in-Moonlight appeared beside their table. "Good morning, dear ones," they said, though their eyes lingered on Ali. "We'll need to adjust our lesson schedule slightly. The ceremonial preparations take precedence."
Ali noticed how the morning light seemed to dance through Melody's silver-white hair, creating patterns that reminded her of moonlight on water. The light pendant grew warm against her skin, and she had to resist the urge to touch it.
"Of course," Ali managed, proud of how steady she kept her voice despite the flutter in her stomach. "When should I—"
"Now, if you're finished," Melody interrupted gently. "We have much to prepare, and time grows short."
The music pavilion had been transformed overnight. Delicate archways of flowering vines framed the space, their blooms opening and closing in time to the subtle magic that filled the air. Various instruments had been arranged in a complex pattern that Ali recognized from her light-weaving lessons—a ritual circle designed to focus and amplify magical energies.
"The solstice ceremony requires perfect harmony," Melody explained as they positioned Ali within the circle. "Each tribute must contribute their voice to the greater song, but none should stand out too distinctly."
They demonstrated the ceremonial music, their fingers drawing notes from the crystalline harp that seemed to capture and hold the essence of summer itself. Ali watched, entranced by both the music and the graceful movement of Melody's hands.
"Now you," Melody said, holding out Ali's flute. As she took it, their fingers brushed again, and Ali felt that same shiver of awareness despite the summer warmth.
She began to play, trying to maintain the proper balance between contribution and constraint. The light pendant pulsed gently against her skin, helping her find the right notes. But as the music built, she felt something else building too—a deeper harmony that seemed to rise from her very core.
Melody must have sensed it too, because they stopped playing abruptly. "Ali," they said, their voice carrying a note of warning. "Remember what we discussed about control."
"I'm trying," Ali replied, frustrated. "But the music wants to... to grow, to change. Can't you feel it?"
For a moment, something like longing crossed Melody's features. "What I feel is irrelevant," they said softly. "We serve the court's harmony, not our own desires."
The weight of unspoken meanings hung in the air between them. Ali opened her mouth to respond, but just then Twilight-Stars-Dancing arrived with several other musicians for the group rehearsal.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of careful practice. Ali found herself positioned between other tributes, their combined music creating the foundation for the fae nobles' more complex harmonies. She noticed how the ceremonial songs seemed designed to subsume individual voices into a greater whole.
During a brief rest, Twilight-Stars-Dancing approached her. "Your control has improved," he said quietly. "But don't suppress your gift entirely. The ceremony requires real magic, not just mimicry."
"I don't understand," Ali replied. "Everyone keeps telling me to control my music, but also to let it be real. How do I—"
"Balance," he interrupted, his dark blue hair catching the sunlight. "Like all things in the fae courts, it's about finding the right balance." He glanced at where Melody-in-Moonlight was instructing another group of musicians. "In everything."
The afternoon brought final dress fittings, where Ali found her solstice gown had evolved overnight. The captured sunlight in its fabric now moved like liquid gold, and the ever-blooming flowers seemed to sing tiny harmonies when she moved.
"Beautiful," Melody said from the doorway, making Ali start. They had changed into their own ceremonial attire—a gown that seemed crafted from moonlight and summer shadows. "But perhaps a final adjustment..."
They stepped forward, fingers weaving a subtle spell that added a shimmer of twilight to Ali's gown. The magic felt like a caress against her skin, and Ali had to fight to keep her breathing steady.
"There," Melody said, their voice slightly husky. "Now you'll blend perfectly with the ceremony's transitions from day to night."
Their eyes met in the mirror, and for a moment Ali saw something deep and wild in Melody's gaze—a hint of the ancient magic that lay beneath the court's carefully maintained surface. Then Melody stepped back, their expression smoothing into its usual serene mask.
"Remember," they said, their voice returning to its teaching tone, "the ceremony requires perfect harmony. Any disruption, any unexpected magic..." They trailed off, but Ali understood the warning.
That evening, during the final rehearsal, Queen Mirabelle observed from her throne. Ali could feel the Queen's attention whenever the music approached the deeper harmonies that seemed to flow naturally from her playing. Each time, she carefully pulled back, keeping to the prescribed patterns.
But later, preparing for bed, Ali found herself wondering about Twilight-Stars-Dancing's words regarding balance. The light pendant projected another small image—this time of Melody-in-Moonlight in their ceremonial gown, their expression holding that same wild magic Ali had glimpsed in the mirror.
"Two days until the solstice," Sage said sleepily from her bed. "Are you ready?"
Ali touched the pendant, watching the image fade. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "Everything feels... intense. Like the air before a storm."
She didn't add that the intensity had as much to do with certain feelings she was trying desperately to control as it did with the approaching ceremony. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if it was possible to find balance when your heart insisted on singing its own song.