Madness

by Rebecca Grey

  Many of the women sent me unwelcoming glares as they twisted in curiosity, wondering why a nymph was even standing in line with them. It didn’t feel very much like I was a wanted guest.

  The call of an attendant, the one who had organized the line we stood in now, rang out from the platform before the marble staircase. Every name that was called was accompanied by a murmur. The noise of their gossip growing with each woman. I wondered if Dace was still standing there.

  I tried not to let my eyes wander. I tried not to appreciate the beauty of all the women in line with me. My hands clenched into fists to keep them from visibly shaking as I waited. My ankles felt weak with anxiety, making me a tad wobbly in the sparkly silver heels they had shoved my feet into. It made me appreciate the nymph tradition of attending a party barefoot.

  The line before me grew shorter. I twirled a curl with my fingers as I watched. Voices behind me grew loud and excited.

  “LaBelle, oh don’t you look gorgeous!”

  It was the name that made me twist in my gown to find the source. LaBelle. That was who was rumored, as the nymphs who readied me had said, was favored to be queen. It was simply the most obvious match for Dace, everyone thought. Who was this girl? I had to know. Was she beautiful? Was she kind? Would she agree with the alliance with the nymphs?

  Her skin glimmered a deadly blue, like she had been drowned at some point in her life, and sea-green hair was piled on top of her head. Her dress was a lavish white gown. She was ready to walk down these stairs as a bride.

  I glanced down at my blush silk dress the prince had picked out for me. It was so much more plain than LaBelle’s. And she was otherworldly beautiful. I could already imagine her and Dace’s babies toddling around with their perfect skin, perfect hair, and incredibly expensive wardrobe.

  Forcing myself to keep the worry from my face, I plastered on a pathetic smile. It was the only smile I could manage. The attendant's voice grew louder. Every step I took maximized my nerves, until it felt like any strong wind could blow my trembling body away.

  Until there was no one left in line in front of me.

  “Miss Ryker Avery, Leader of the Nymphs and guest from the Heathern Court.”

  The rumble of voices that gossiped as each name was called spiked to an overwhelming commotion before it completely died. I stepped forward onto the platform.

  Large white columns held up the artwork that was considered the ceiling. Paintings of cherubs and gods alike, dancing amongst the moon and the stars. Glowing silver chandeliers with sparkling fae firelight twinkled and cast their light down on the marble floor.

  Fae were gathered in a half circle to watch as guests arrived. At the opposite end from the staircase were three thrones, two occupied by the king and queen, whose faces had fallen to flat indifference. Between us, the dance floor remained empty.

  My heart stuttered, not once, twice, or even three times, but enough that it felt like it might finally stop beating and kill me now, in front of this disapproving crowd. What a way to go. Not my way.

  It must be LaBelle then. I prayed she would make a good wife for Dace, and a worthy alliance to my cause. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I caught a glance of her. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth puckered. It was wrong of me, but I gave her my best ‘eat shit’ grin and began my descent.

  Dace, dressed in a blue suit, embroidered with white flowers, with a pressed white button up, waited. A sly smile rounded the apples of his cheeks. He lifted his chin, beckoning for me to continue down the stairs.

  Yes, that’s what I was supposed to be doing. I needed to walk down the stairs, and for the love of the Mother, I needed to not fall while doing so. With one hand, I reached for the railing, the stone chilled, as if I was the only one who had bothered to use it. Maybe it was bad etiquette. Maybe it would keep me from bouncing my face off the steps on accident.

  Swallowing my nerves, I took a long, deep breath, and stepped down the stairs. Such a silence had fallen on the room that the only noise was the chords of the string quartet that played in a corner, the click of my heels, and the ferocious beating of my heart.

  Part of me wished LaBelle had been before me. That I wouldn’t have to watch him pick her out of the line up and take her to the floor. It would be easier if he wasn’t waiting for me now. If I didn’t have to look him in the eyes as I walked right past him, and pretend to smile as he offered LaBelle his hand after me.

  At the last step, I smoothed my silk dress over my thighs and turned to look at Dace, awaiting his direction. But it felt like more than just looking at him. I was really seeing him. His white eyelashes danced like crystals of ice as they brushed his sharp cheekbones. They framed the intensity of his lingering gaze. The line of his jaw tightened and chorded, his lips pressing together before they opened in a wild, healthy, grin. He looked the part of the prince. And I wanted him to be my prince. My heart ached with a wish that I finally fully admitted to myself.

  The point of his chin lifted. The nod that I had so much wished for and dreaded all at the same time. I lifted my foot to drop the final step and meld in with the crowd.

  Dace’s hand appeared in front of me. I couldn’t hear the sharp breath that was stolen from my lungs over the exclamation of the crowd. Their constant need for validation of every thought and outrage rising once more.

  I glanced up at the king and queen who hadn’t moved, hadn’t altered their uncaring expressions, and looked down at his waiting hand. It didn’t feel real. This was all some sort of messed up dream. Surely, I was about to wake up and be totally deflated.

  I could turn him down, I thought. The girl's voice still rang in my head, ‘No one would deny the prince's hand and the chance to be queen.’ No one, not even me. Not when it was all I secretly wished for just a moment before anyway. If this was a dream it wouldn’t hurt to say yes.

  Yet, Dace’s hand, as I hesitantly took it, was firm and inviting. Completely, and utterly real.

  Confident, as he always was, he led me to the empty dance floor and pulled me up to his chest. The smile on his face never faltered, his attention never drifting from me to the crowd. Because Dace never needed validation in what he was doing, he just did it. Behind us, the attendant called the name of the next girl, who would be upset to find that the nymph was somehow favored.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, letting him lead me in a simple step around the floor. All around us, fae watched with displeasure. Though I caught one knowing smile. Jesseline held a bubbling glass up in salute as we made eye contact, her hair slicked back behind sparkling diamond earrings. She looked like a different person in the green, skin-tight gown.

  Dace leaned closer, his soft lips brushing against my ear, “I’m choosing my bride.”

  “You still have time to change your mind,” I breathed. “I’ve only been favored.”

  Dace straightened himself and watched me with furrowed brows. He licked his lips, looking around me for a moment before he said, “I’ve already made my choice.”

  “You can’t marry a nymph.”

  I wanted to laugh, I practically did as I spoke. This was a moment of insanity, that’s what this was. I was probably crazy too, for thinking this could really be an option.

  “If I can’t marry you, then I won’t marry at all. And if my mother cannot accept that then she’ll have to find another way to keep the people on the streets from throwing her ass off the throne.”

  His eyes fixed on his mother behind me as he spoke. The seriousness in his voice curled through me. The sound of his rich voice at my ears sent heat down to my sex.

  “Did you not notice the way I’ve flirted with you? Is my game so far off that you never saw my attraction to you?”

  “I, uh, I just thought that you were making a game of it. That you couldn’t be serious. You just wanted me to fawn over you, like every other girl.”

  LaBelle had made her way down the stairs. I could feel her eyes zeroed in on my back, burning against my skin. The dress Dace had
picked revealed my back completely, a self conscious worry. Scars marred my skin. Divots of skin were missing and uneven from my beatings over the last five years.

  Dace ran his hand over the planes of my back, pulling me closer to him until there was hardly any space between us at all. “I’ve wanted you for all my life, Ryker.”

  Fear zapped through me, making me rigid. It was everything I’d just admitted that I wanted, and it was terrifying. Under the scrutiny of an entire court of people who didn’t want me here, it was overwhelming. I wanted to hide, I wanted to run to Daethian or Hattie and tell them everything just so they could tell me it’s okay. That if this is what I wanted, then we would find a way to work it out. But my best friend and my sister were not here right now.

  “What do we do next?” I said as the song came to a close.

  “You’ll come stand by me, while I sign a public decree accepting my rights to the crown back. Unfortunately, after that I will have to take dances with all the other options,” he said the word with a hint of disgust. “But it doesn’t change anything.” He squeezed my hand, walking us up to his parents.

  His father’s hand had lifted to rub at the shadow of a beard that was growing along his jaw as he watched us approach together. Queen Couley’s back was straight as a board, her hands resting against the arms of the throne. Her features were frozen, her skin an even porcelain. A beautiful statue.

  “This is who you present to us as your favored bride?” she finally said slowly, enunciating every single word.

  “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it, mother?” His smile grew cocky as he lifted my hand in offering.

  Standing from her seat, the queen's navy-blue gown danced with gems that tinkled against the ground like tiny bells. She flicked her wrist and a few nymphs carried out a table and a chair. A scroll, pen, warmed wax, and a crown rested on the wood. The nymphs looked up at me with genuine smiles as they set it down before us and scuttled back to wherever they had come from.

  The crown was clear crystal, almost like it was carved out of ice. It didn’t melt against the table, which put my theory to rest. Dace let go of my hand and sat down at the table.

  “It’s really been such a pleasure doing business with you. I’m so lucky to have parents just as loving as you.” Every word was a pointed dagger aimed for his mother. The tension between them felt like a thick fog in the air.

  No matter how much I wanted to believe that he meant it, I couldn’t help but believe that he’d change his mind. There was the rest of the evening for him to talk with other girls, for him to talk with LaBelle.

  Here my mind became a terrible rebel to the way I tried to smother my hope. I watched Dace as he smiled, leaning over the documents. He brushed the hair away from his forehead with those long fingers. It made me wonder what it would be like if he touched me like that. A reckless, mindless caress. It wasn’t a fun game my thoughts made me play. He was a prince, the people's king. I was merely the face of rebellion. A nymph who has bewitched her way into winning a prize so much bigger than her.

  NINETEEN

  Dace

  I know it was right of me to entertain these other women, just enough to make my mother feel content. But it was much harder to keep my gaze from drifting her direction. Everything about her was as my vision deemed it, down to her hesitance in taking my hand. She looked more than the part of a dream come true, she looked like a fucking angel.

  “In my spare time, I like to sew, or occasionally tend to the gardens with my nymphs. Father says I have the greenest thumbs,” the drone of LaBelle’s voice went in one ear and out the other. I nodded along, though.

  “What do you do in your free time?” she continued.

  Ryker stood on the edge of the crowd, a sparkling brew made here in the Twinity Court in her hand. She smiled and laughed with Jesseline, who still managed to look like a killer. On occasion she looked up to watch me. Something was distant in her gaze. Was she enjoying her time here? I hoped to the gods that she was.

  “Dace?” LaBelle said with a little bit more force, drawing me back into the conversation I was supposed to be having.

  “I,” I cleared my throat, thinking. “I like to drink. I enjoy training with my daggers.” The feeling of their weight at my hip was sorely missed as I changed into my formal wear. But for comfort, one was tucked into my sock.

  “Those sound like a dangerous combination,” she giggled, trailing her finger over my shoulder.

  “Yes, but that is why I refrain from doing them together.”

  With the exception of that one time. But I don’t really talk about that. The point was, don’t drink and play with knives. My arms felt tired from constantly keeping one hovering over her waist without actually touching her. I knew my parents wanted me to like LaBelle, but she was incredibly boring. Not to mention, overly perfumed.

  I missed Ryker’s scent. Even from this distance, if I took a deep enough breath, I was able to catch the smallest hint. It was probably just clinging to my clothing.

  As we spun with the music, the other couples finally out on the dance floor, I caught a glimpse of long blue hair and silver eyes. My attention snapped to my friend-turned-enemy. I pulled away from LaBelle with the smallest of bows, keeping Torrance in my eyesight.

  Torrance was the reason I had lost my crown to begin with. He was the person who led my parents to the refuge. The bastard had some serious explaining to do. That, or I could rip his head off his shoulders here and now, that seemed fair enough to me.

  “Please, excuse me,” I mumbled, turning on my heels before the song was even over. LaBelle was already flabbergasted behind me before the words had completely left my mouth.

  Torrance’s eyes lit up as he saw me approaching. He plucked a second drink off the tray of a server walking by and extended it toward me. “Dace, I’m so glad to see--”

  His words were cut off as my fist traveled through the air and struck his face. Blue hair and the slur of the words he meant to say were tossed over his shoulder as his head snapped to the side. Liquid from the drinks sloshed from their cups and covered his suede shoes. Fae around us gasped, some even took a step back.

  “You fucker,” I hissed. “Do you know how many nymphs you killed?”

  Torrance rotated his jaw and handed both drinks to the nearest fae. “Okay, I may have deserved that.”

  “You deserve to meet the same fate as those whose bodies couldn’t even be laid to rest.” Anger boiled inside of me, my hand reaching for the knives that were not on my waist. It would be fitting for Torrance to have a slow, painful death. That idea was the only thing that kept me from using my bare hands to rip his head from his spine.

  “Well, would you let me explain,” he said with a smirk.

  “You can explain from your grave if you don’t knock that nasty little smile off your face.”

  The smile faltered, but he didn’t lose it. “I was only following my commands. It was seen that I was supposed to lead them to you. I’m not about to test my fate with the gods. A simple misunderstanding, you see.”

  “What I see is a man whose nut sack is about to be up his damn throat in about five seconds if he doesn’t get the fuck out of here. I don’t care about the visions from the gods.”

  “Dace, you know I’m not one to miss out on these free drinks,” he laughed easily.

  “Dace,” Jesseline coughed at my side.

  “What?” I snapped.

  The crowd around us watched with wide eyes. My father stood from his throne to watch our interaction. If Jesseline wasn’t about to stop it, he sure would, especially if it meant keeping my mother from getting embarrassed by my rash behavior. I pointed at Torrance.

  “It would serve you well to disappear from my sight.” I closed my jacket where it had come unbuttoned and forced myself to walk away. My fingers itched to wrap around his throat or to string him up by his toes. Torrance deserved to pay in some way for his actions, and I didn’t care if it was god-ordained or not.

  My
attention trailed the mass of partygoers. I observed the fae who drank and danced and cheered. Some remained reserved, I noted that it was mainly members of my parent’s court, the ones who strongly supported my absence. But it wasn’t them I was looking for.

  “Ryker stepped out for a minute,” Jesseline said, her eyes never stopping her swift surveillance.

  “Stepped out, where?”

  She shouldn’t have left. I should have made it more clear that with her being my favored proposition, she was a target to those who wanted that position. I cursed under my breath and jogged up the stairs and out of the ballroom. On the platform, I could hear the keys of a piano randomly being plucked at in no particular rhythm. I followed the sound to one of the small rooms that was also often used for parties, smaller gatherings of course.

  Ryker was perched on the edge of the piano bench, her fingers pushing at the keys. The servants had ironed out her curls and they hung loosely over her shoulder. I stepped into the large, empty room and just took a breath of her intoxicating scent.

  Her eyes jumped from the piano to me, her body jerking upright in surprise. “Oh, you scared me,” she laughed, tilting her chin down. The curtain of her hair covered her bashful blush.

  “Why did you leave the party?” My hands found a home in the pockets of my pants as I moseyed my way to her. I looked at her, then the piano, and quietly sat beside her.

  “You and Jesseline are about the only ones who want to see me there. Just needed a break from all the judgmental stares, I guess.”

  “Ah, yes. My parents' court is famous for that. I’ll tell you a not-so-secret secret.” I looked around the room, then whispered, “They look at me like that, too.”

  Ryker’s laugh was effortless, a small chuckle she swatted away, her hand coming to rest on my arm. Her smile melted as she noticed what she had done so easily without thought.

  Despite the way she drew her hand back, I pulled up my sleeves and reached for the piano keys. The instrument was like second nature to me. Growing up, my parents had said I was to practice at an instrument of my choosing, and since Torrance and every other boy who came along to my classes wanted to pluck at the strings of a guitar or ukulele, I knew I had to be different. So I was rebellious and picked the piano. Though I could easily pick up a ukulele if I wanted. Practice had been nearly every morning for an hour or two, for almost fifty years. My favorite maid helped to teach me when I wished to sneak away from my other lessons.