“Is that really true?” Laurel asked in wonder.

“That’s how I learned it.”

The scene returned to the flowered clearing where Puck—a Fall faerie of remarkable skill, Tamani informed Laurel—was instructed by Oberon to create a potion that would make Titania fall in love with the first creature she saw, in payment for her mishandling of Camelot. And since he was a benevolent king, he also tried to help the humans. “After all,” Tamani explained, “he couldn’t let them actually enter Avalon and take a golden apple, but he didn’t want to send them home with nothing to show for their pains.”

Laurel nodded and turned her attention back to the ballet. The story continued in a familiar manner, now that she knew what play it was—Lotus and Darnel both chasing after Hazel, Heather being left loverless, and everyone dancing in intricate, frenzied patterns that made Laurel’s head whirl.

Then the scene changed back to the faerie bower and, after Puck placed his potion in Titania’s eyes, a huge, hulking beast came lumbering in. Laurel couldn’t tell if the beast was an illusion or an elaborate costume. “What’s that?” she asked. “Isn’t he supposed to be a man with a donkey head?”

“He’s a troll,” Tamani said. “There is no greater disgrace among the fae than to fall in love with a troll. It just doesn’t happen without serious derangement—or some kind of magical compulsion.”

“What about the part where all the men are putting on a play? That’s where the guy is supposed to come from.”

“Shakespeare put that part in by himself. There’s no weird play in the original story.”

“I always did think that was the lamest part of the story. I thought it should end when the lovers wake up and are discovered,” Laurel said.

“Well, it does,” Tamani said with a grin.

Laurel watched silently for a while as the dancers continued the story and everything began to be set right. Just before the final scene, Titania came back on and danced the most beautiful solo Laurel had ever seen to the sad strains of a soft lament. Then she spun and swooned at Oberon’s feet, offering him her crown.

“What just happened?” Laurel asked when the dance was over. She couldn’t bear to ask during the solo—it was too lovely to take her eyes off of even for a second.

“Titania begs forgiveness of Oberon for her misdeeds and concedes her crown to him. That means that she admits she was never truly the Queen.”

“Because of Camelot?”

“Because she was a Fall faerie.”

Laurel frowned as she considered this. But the scenery changed quickly to the clearing where the lovers awoke from their enchanted sleep and danced a joyful double pas de deux, and were joined by the full corps at the end. When they stepped forward for their bows, the audience on the ground floor seemed to rise as one to applaud the company. Tamani rose from his seat as well and Laurel jumped up to join him, clapping so hard her hands began to sting.

Tamani placed a firm hand on her arm and pulled her downward.

“What?” Laurel said, pulling her arm away.

Tamani’s eyes darted back and forth. “It’s not done, Laurel. You don’t stand for anyone below your station. Only your equals, or your superiors.”

Laurel glanced around. He was right. Nearly everyone in the balcony was clapping enthusiastically, faces lit with broad, beautiful smiles, but no one was standing except her and Tamani. She raised an eyebrow at Tamani, turned her face back to the stage, and remained on her feet as she continued clapping.

“Laurel!” Tamani said sternly under his breath.

“That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen and I am going to express my appreciation as I see fit,” Laurel said flatly, continuing to clap. She shot a quick look at him. “Are you going to stop me?”

Tamani sighed and shook his head, but he stopped trying to get her to sit down.

Slowly the applause faded and the dancers ran gracefully off the stage, where the scenery had melted into stark whiteness. About twenty faeries in bright green lined up at the back.

“There’s more?” Laurel asked as she and Tamani took their seats again.

“Fire dancers,” Tamani said with a broad smile. “You’ll love these.”

A deep boom from a large kettledrum sounded. At first, it was just a slow, steady beat. The green-clad faeries moved forward as one, taking slow, marching steps in time with the drums. As each line reached the front of the stage, they raised their hands, sending beams of multicolored light skyward. A second later, enormous showers of sparks exploded above the crowd—almost eye level with the balcony—beautiful, vivid colors in rainbow hues that made Laurel blink against their brilliance. It was better than any fireworks display she’d ever seen.

A second drum began to sound in a quicker and more intricate rhythm than the first, and the faeries onstage changed with it. Their dance turned acrobatic, faeries flipping and leaping to the front of the stage instead of walking. A third drum started, then a fourth, and the performers’ pace and motions grew frenetic with the beat.

Laurel watched, transfixed, as the fire dancers performed, twisted, and tumbled with remarkable skill. Each time they reached the front of the stage, they put up another light show. Rays of light fell like raindrops over the audience, and spinning balls of fire careened through the coliseum, trailing bright sparks that faded into glistening jewels before extinguishing themselves. Laurel was torn, watching first the acrobats, then the fireworks, wishing she could watch both at the same time. Then, when the beat of the drums became so fast Laurel couldn’t figure out how the faeries kept up, they all tumbled to the front of the stage, releasing the fireworks from their hands all at once, creating a curtain of sparkles that dazzled almost as brightly as the sun.