We passed the hours wandering the parks of Canterlot, and ended up at the famous donut shop on the boulevard as the sun was going down.
Tea Rose was looking more and more uncomfortable about her lack of fancy attire. The short cheongsam she’d brought for the event was looking plain in comparison to the elaborate gowns on the fine ponies we were now watching make their way to the castle entrance.
“It’s embarrassing,” Tea Rose sighed. “I should have figured nothing even my parents could buy me would look like it belonged at the Gala.”
I shrugged. I found the whole fuss distasteful. We’d already talked about my intentions to go au naturel, which she agreed was better than wearing anything I owned. I suggested that she do the same, if she really felt self-conscious about it.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” she sighed with regret, nibbling at her chocolate donut half-heartedly.
We heard the fanfare herald the opening ceremony of the gala. Tea Rose didn’t look up.
“You want to see Gaiety’s grand entrance, whatever that is?” I asked.
I could see that Tea Rose was caught between being sick of donuts and not being ready to face a crowd of Equestria’s elite yet. We’d been looking forward to this night since we were gifted surprise tickets, Tea especially: it was hard to believe how much her enthusiasm had dwindled over the course of the day. There was something she wasn’t telling me, but I could also tell that now wasn’t the time to push her.
When she was ready, we made our way down the road to the castle, her dress still tucked away in my saddle bag.
The line to be greeted by Princess Celestia extended from the castle almost to where we stood on the grounds. We joined it.
I found myself wondering if the princess had ever personally read the dissertation on Equestria as an authoritarian state that had got me denied acceptance into the princess’s own School for Gifted Unicorns when my enrollment officer got her hooves on it.
I looked at Tea Rose to ask how she thought our ruler would feel about it, but stopped when I saw the quiver in her delicate features: she was trying not to cry.
“Whoa, Tea,” I said gently, recognizing one of her attacks of anxiety. I was lost on what to say next. “Everything’s fine, Tea. Come on.”
The line inched forward. We were a solid five minutes from meeting the princess, at least.
I could see her from where we stood. The portraits I had seen of her did her physical presence no justice. Her resplendent, eternally flowing mane made the rest of her look all the more steadfast and imposing, like the still point of the turning galaxy. Everypony who was looking in her direction was compelled to bow, and I was no exception.
Tea Rose was bowed lower than anypony else. She didn’t raise her head as we shuffled closer. Some of the ponies around us were getting pretty excited; the young pegasus directly in front of us was squealing and beating her wings in anticipation.
Tea’s ears perked up once we were in hearing range of the princess. I think she was comforted by the sincere graciousness in the princess’s voice as she welcomed personal friends and new faces with the same warmth.
Then we heard the reaction of the giddy pegasus in front of us to the princess’s soothing salutation. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she spluttered, “you look amazing!” I looked up to see her companion looking embarrassed for her. And I saw Tea Rose look up too.
I stepped up first. The princess looked me straight in the eyes as she said with a smile, “Welcome” — and I felt it. Now, I’m not the biggest fan of our ruling monarch, but staring into her gentle lavender eyes made me feel guilty for ever having criticized her. The experience was a little hypnotic, as I realized once she turned her gaze to Tea Rose.
Tea had seen Princess Celestia before, and her reclusive younger sister, at a ceremony to commemorate the tenth anniversary of Princess Luna’s return. But it was apparent that she, too, had never exchanged words with the princess.
“I hope you have a wonderful night,” our supreme ruler said to both of us.
“Thank you,” said Tea, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t said anything.
“Yes, thank you, Princess,” I said awkwardly, and we trotted forward into the grand ballroom.
Unsure of what to do, I spent a minute scanning the room for Gaiety, and spotted her following a group of ponies into the roped off VIP section at the far end of the hall.
She was hard to miss — her foamy mane and tail were shimmering, sprinkled with glitter. I was drawn to her even before I recognized her.
I looked at the buffet table with regret for having filled up on donuts.
Tea started walking out towards the garden, and I followed her. We weaved our way through the thickening crowd and slipped out into the cooling night air of the castle’s main courtyard.
A number of ponies were already claiming their places for the fireworks display that was to come later.
We found a place along the back wall that would not make such a good vantage point, but which lent us all the more personal space — even some privacy — because of it.
We made ourselves comfortable and I slung off my saddlebag and emptied it of most of its contents: the pieces of Tea Rose’s small hookah pipe, a pair of tongs, a bag of shisha, a box of coal, a small bottle of water.
I began the delicate task of assembling the hookah telekinetically. My magic isn’t well-tuned to precision work, and I took the tongs in my mouth to work with the coal.
Tea Rose chose this moment to initiate conversation. “D’you think coming here was a mistake?”
“O’ coursh no’,” I mumbled, nudging the coal into place on its tray.
“Everypony’s judging us. I didn’t want to disappoint Gaiety, but she doesn’t even have time to notice.”
I put the tongs down. “At least we got to see it for ourselves.” I know that was why I’d come.
We sat there together and took turns breathing grape-flavoured smoke from the hookah pipe. Tea’s tension eased.
By the time the pyromagics hit the sky, we were quite alone in our corner of the garden, and quite enjoying it. The scenery was amazing, the aromas of all the different flowers perfectly blended to create a heady fragrance worthy of the spectacular landscaping. In comparison, the masterful display of fireworks was strikingly garish.
They were so loud, too, that we barely heard something from the sky crash into the bushes only feet away from us.
“Was that one of the garden critters?” Tea asked, turning in that direction. We’d been keeping our eyes open for members of the princesses’ menagerie, but they were even more elusive than we’d been told.
As if to answer her, a large four-legged creature scrambled out of the bush, wings twitching.
The flickering light of the fireworks revealed the full form to us: a light body speckled in lime green; lime-coloured feathered hooves; large pink pegasus wings; thick pink mane, pink tail, and the face and snout of a runty dragon. Though the rest of the creature, which I guessed to be female, closer resembled a pony.
Tea opened her mouth, but at that moment the creature turned her full glare on us, as if defying us to make some comment on the entrance she’d made, or alert the royal guard to what was apparently an act of trespass.
We did neither, and she began looking around the garden restlessly, as though she weren’t sure what to do next.
“Nice night for it,” Tea Rose ventured, smiling nervously.
The trespasser didn’t appreciate her sense of humour. “If you’re a pony,” she snapped, tossing her mane in a petulant kind of way.
Tea looked openly confused. “What?”
“This is the biggest, grandest party in Equestria and my kind have to gatecrash to see it.”
Tea frowned at her, and looked at me uncertainly. “It’s been an annual celebration to commemorate the unicorns’ founding of Canterlot every year since they completed its construction. It’s historical that it’s held between ponies — at that time there weren’t any griffons or zebras or”—she waved a hoof in search of a word—“snarks, in Canterlot.”
The gatecrasher prickled. Tea’s use of the “S” word had clearly offended her and she took a wide, defensive stance.
“It’s discrimination,” she growled, stamping a hoof warningly. “Celestia rules over more than just ponies, and there’s more than just ponies here now! I’m proud to be a qilin, and if Celestia’s not proud for me too, she can get bucked.” I could see the shimmer of tears in her scowl, and my heart ached for her. Of course she was a qilin — a race I’d read about, but a race almost never seen in the region. I’d never even seen an accurate illustration of one. Qilins were among the more enigmatic races that were thus the object of some stigma to the pony population.
I shot Tea a look for using the word “snark”, a slur referring to “imaginary creatures” that had come to be used for such races less understood by the pony population.
Our uninvited guest was hurt. She looked ready to bolt, but reluctant to move into sight of the other gala attendees. She shuffled on the spot.
“What are you going to do?” Tea asked in a more careful tone. “What were you planning?”
“I don’t know,” she said, tossing her head again in annoyance. “I just want to make a statement.”
“You should get out there where everypony can see you, then,” Tea goaded.
“I will,” the qilin huffed, and trotted purposefully into the open garden.
I looked at Tea, she looked at me, and we waited and listened a moment before following after her to watch what happened.
By the time we peeked around the long bush that obscured our corner of the garden, the royal guard had been alerted. Our new acquaintance had apparently done something to upset the garden crowd. She was now backing up and cowering, but three pegasi guards were moving in on her as though she posed some kind of threat. They announced their intention to escort her off the grounds, and she complied, red-faced.
A sharp, quiet apprehension moved through the assembled crowd as the four took off and flew into the distance. The feeling spread quickly through the rest of the party-goers, and there was no salvaging the night after that. We packed up and weren’t nearly the only ponies to leave early.
We got one last glimpse of Gaiety as we walked back through the main hall. I took in her outfit this time, a light, close-fitting frock overdesigned in a complicated modern style. She fit right in with the cluster of classy young ponies that hung about her. Tea Rose followed my gaze, and just as quickly looked away.
I decided against saying anything about it. We had a long wait ahead of us back at Central Station.