Revelry

by Chani Feener

  She hated that. Somehow, she’d come to rely on yet another oddity about herself that she wanted desperately to change. Back when she’d been trying to rid herself of the sight, many people had told her the same thing, mentioning how she’d miss it and feel lost. Arden didn’t want to miss this. Didn’t want to get used to these new sensations.

  “Power can be addicting,” she whispered, jolting slightly at the sound of her own voice. With a sharp shake of her head, she got moving, walking around to the side of the store where she’d left her bike chained and ready. It sucked that she would have to use it on such a cold night, but there was no way in hell she was going to call Mavek and ask him to send a car.

  She’d meant it when she’d told him that she didn’t want to run to him for help anymore. She just prayed she’d be able to stick to that sentiment.

  Just as she was about to push off on her bike, her phone dinged in her pocket and she paused. Expecting a text from Tabby, she was surprised to see Eskel’s name on the screen. Clicking the message open, her eyes scanned the brief text.

 

  She was about to shove the device back into her pocket when it dinged a second time.

 

  The corner of her mouth tipped up as she thought about their first conversation at the pizzeria back when he’d first arrived in town. Even then, knowing that she shouldn’t, she’d been unable to resist getting to know him.

  Her smile died. It was also why he’d been dragged into this mess in the first place: her lack of self-control. What she’d told Brix last night had been accurate––she couldn’t control what Eskel did. But she had say over her own actions, and putting him in danger because she felt lonely or sad… She didn’t want that.

  She didn’t want to be selfish.

  The manor looked as it always did, a mixture of gothic beauty and neglect. A fountain sat in the front yard, a stone statue of a woman missing an arm and part of her leg at its center. The ground around it was frozen, the frosty grass untouched, allowed to grow wild under Mavek’s rule. The front gate was made of metal, covered in twisting vines with thorns the size of her fingernails. Lining the gate's bars were iron thorns, a detail Arden had never noticed until she’d begun to change.

  Arden drove her bike straight through the open doors, trying not to let her heart rate increase. She’d done this a hundred times––driven right up this windy driveway and straight to the massive brick manor––but it felt different somehow.

  Candle flames flickered in every single one of the windows, some covered with gossamer curtains that threatened to come too close to the light and catch fire. The front doors, two tall black monstrosities with silver handles, stood ominously at the back of the wide front porch.

  She avoided them, parking her bike farther in than usual and propping it against the side of the house. Typically, the parties held here took place on the grounds in the back—even last year’s Christmas celebration—so she knew where to go.

  The ground crunched beneath her sneakers as she walked, and she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pink coat to hide their slight tremor. After all that had happened, the excitement that she used to feel at arriving here to see Mavek was gone. Only dread weighed in the pit of her stomach, thick like molasses, sticking to her insides as she moved.

  She heard the music long before she’d reached the peeling white wicker trellis that acted as an entrance to the immediate backyard. The notes were high, a mournful tune whistling in the wind. She’d listened to the string instrument enough times now to be able to identify it. She’d never heard him play this particular song before, but Arden recognized Mavek’s playing. Even before she entered the revelry, she knew exactly where to find him.

  The backyard had another porch, this one made of stone, which stretched out into the yard. On its right was the entrance Arden had just used, while the left featured a massive courtyard with sprawling pillars and strings of glowing orb-shaped lights. A large table––usually filled with more food than one could imagine––was now empty save for one thing.

  The Midnight Prince stood at its center, chin tucked against his instrument as he played to the masses below, their eyes lifted toward him.

  He wasn’t paying attention to them, though. He caught Arden’s gaze and held it, the distance between them causing his hazel eyes to appear as black as the night. The lights reflected off his glossy hair, causing a gleam of blue to form around the top of his head almost like a false halo. The temperature had dropped drastically since she’d left Howl Books, but he didn’t seem to mind the bite of winter, dressed only in a pair of snow-white pants and a long pea coat to match. His bare chest displayed his tattoos, the dark lines and bright red ink a sharp contrast to his pale attire.

  If this was a crowning, Mavek must want to remind everyone of the vast number of tithes he’d won over the many decades they’d lived here. He wanted to exert his power, show his strengths. Remind the Unseelie that this was his home, and that they were in his territory, even if this ceremony was about someone else.

  “This is a dangerous place to be, little mouse,” a deep voice resonated from the darkness at her left then, catching her attention.

  Arden tore her gaze away from Mavek, eyes vainly searching the spot in the shadows where she now knew someone stood. Whoever he was, he was tucked against the side of the house, partially shielded by the leaves of a large bush.

  “Oh,” the speaker said then, his surprise apparent, “not a mouse at all I see. My apologies. You must be Arden Archer. I accidentally mistook you for a regular Bloodheart. Please excuse the insult.”

  “It wasn’t an insult at all,” she replied tersely, still straining to make his figure out. Each time her eyes focused on something, her vision grew cloudy and she lost it. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I don’t like being seen,” he told her nonchalantly. “You understand.”

  “I don’t like talking to invisible people,” she retaliated, feigning that she was turning away to dismiss him, pausing only when he chuckled.

  “Touché.” Stepping just slightly out of the shadows, his form materialized long enough that she could see the details of his face. He didn’t appear to be much older than she was, with a soft expression and pouty full lips. What gave him away were his eyes. Ocean blue, the timeless sadness contained within their depths impossible to miss.

  “Who are you?” Arden asked, more wistfully than she intended. With a start, she realized she could hear the sea––waves crashing against a rocky shore, the sound of gulls calling to one another above. The taste of briny air coated her tongue when she inhaled, and she felt a warm breeze caress her skin.

  “Does it really matter?” He tilted his head and a strand of curly black hair fell over one eye. “I think the question that you should be asking is who you are, Arden Archer. Or, more importantly, who you want to be.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Next time,” he said, already stepping back into the shadows. They wrapped around him as if they were alive, shielding him faster than she could blink.

  She was about to go after him, had just lifted her foot to do so, when a strong hand took hers, tugging her back.

  Mavek interlaced their fingers, tightening his grip as if afraid she would pull away. His voice was low and seductive when he spoke, though it lacked the sway she half-expected. “Where are you going, heart?”

  Arden shook her head, because what was there to say? That she was going after one of his strange fae? It sounded weird even to her own ears, and he would definitely use it against her, taking her sudden interest as a sign that she wanted to stay and be a part of his world after all.

  At his back the Unseelie continued to celebrate, most not bothering with glamour or disguises, flaunting their true forms. A few creatures with spindly arms and legs were climbing one of the pillars to reach up and grasp at low hanging leave
s from a nearby maple. Others laughed and watched as a pixie, a small creature no larger than a coke can, was chased around a stone table by a set of sylvans.

  Sylvans had an ethereal beauty, which they used to lure humans into the woods and to their ultimate deaths. Even Arden had a hard time looking away from the two of them, momentarily caught up in the spill of fire-red hair and sharp green eyes.

  She shook her head to break the trance. Far more of them were gathered than she’d ever seen before, even at the Tithe. It made her uncomfortable––worried, even––and she glanced at Mavek suspiciously, her unease only growing when she found that he was staring back attentively. In his free hand he held his violin and bow, and when she glanced at it his grip shifted, as if he knew where her thoughts were headed.

  “The crowning will begin soon,” he told her, easing nearer when a group of Unseelie who looked as if they were made of tree bark walked past, almost close enough to brush against them. “We’re expected at the front. I’ve saved us seats.”

  “I came, didn’t I?” she said, even as he turned and began weaving them through the crowded yard. “That should be enough.” The last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near the actual ceremony. None of this had anything to do with her, not really, and she needed to work on separating herself from all of this.

  When she’d been a Heartless, she’d grown accustomed to being summoned to the manor, attending events and revelries. She’d even convinced herself that the only reason for her presence was duty, not because she’d do anything to be closer to Mavek. She’d been a fool to think that she’d hidden her feelings from him and his people. To believe that she could get away unscathed with loving something like him.

  Arden had spent her entire life monitoring the fae from afar. She should have known better.

  “You hardly dressed the part,” he replied, dissatisfaction clear in his tone and the way his gaze briefly dropped down the length of her body.

  It’d been a small act of defiance on her part, she had to admit, choosing not to change out of her daily clothes. The black jeans and knit sweater beneath her coat were comfortable, and while she might be in the process of changing, she still wasn’t a fan of wearing a skirt in this weather.

  “I was only told to be here,” she said, pretending not to notice the way his jaw clenched.

  Silent the rest of the way, Mavek brought them across the grounds, further from the manor and deeper into the fielded area where at least half a dozen bonfires raged, each surrounded by mini celebrations. Some fae were dancing, while others held morsels speared by sticks over the brightly burning flames, smacking their lips in anticipation.

  Just past the largest bonfire, a long table had been set out. All ten chairs had tall, curved backs, and were made from a polished wood. Arden had never seen the set before, but was also distracted by what had been organized across the tabletop.

  Each place setting was composed of an ivory plate rimmed in gold, accompanied by a wine glass filled halfway with a deep, dark, blue liquid. The plates were empty, but the knives and forks hinted at the feast to come. A large candelabrum crowned the center of the table, the biggest source of light outside of the vibrant moon hovering overhead.

  Mavek led her to one end of the table, lowering her into a seat at the right before taking the head for himself. A few others already hovered there, but as soon as the Midnight Prince settled into his chair, suddenly the rest followed.

  Titania floated forward, her long silver hair cascading over her thin shoulders. She was dressed in a gossamer gown with pearl beading, and a necklace wrapped around her throat that appeared to be made of seaweed. She took the spot on Mavek’s left, eyeing Arden with a coy half-smile as if trying to get a feel for her. Arden kept her expression blank. Once upon a time, she’d been jealous of the Unseelie queen. She’d hated seeing her touch Mavek, but now…

  As if reading her thoughts, Titania slowly lifted a hand and ran the tips of her oval-shaped nails down the length of Mavek’s arm. Her eyes, the color of an oil spill complete with rainbow sheen, lighted with mirth.

  A sharp sensation stabbed the center of Arden’s chest, and she was horrified to find herself reaching beneath the table for the knife tucked into her boot. The move was subtle, and she doubted anyone had seen her hand twitch, but when she glanced at Mavek her breath caught in her throat.

  He didn’t move away from Titania, his body gone still, allowing the queen to continue playing with the cuff of his sleeve. Just as the tease in Titania’s movements was clear, the challenge in his eyes was impossible to overlook. They wanted to get a rise out of her, working together either on purpose or as a happy coincidence. Arden felt a rush of heat color her cheeks and clenched her jaw, hoping they’d interpret the flush of embarrassment as annoyance.

  She used to be jealous, she reminded herself vehemently. Not anymore, because she and Mavek were over.

  The table was completely filled now, and someone at the far end cleared his throat, putting a stop to the nonsense taking place among the three of them. Arden pulled her gaze away and turned.

  Brix, in the same body as the one Arden had first met him in, was now across the table from Mavek at the other head seat. His red hair was wild around his narrow face, as if he’d merely finger combed the locks a moment prior. He was dressed differently than usual, the rust-colored coat with golden buttons more formal than she’d seen him wear. Beneath it was a forest-green dress shirt only partially buttoned, the collar open to expose the choker––fashioned from a twig––at his tanned throat. A small leaf hung from its center, still alive.

  He rapped his fingers against the tabletop in a move very akin to the Erlking, drawing everyone’s attention. The revelry came to a sudden and soundless stop. All bodies paused, heads turning his way. No one bothered moving any closer, stilling where they were, whether that was next to the bonfire or all the way across the field at the manor.

  “Are you ready to begin?” an Unseelie Arden didn’t recognize asked. The male was seated at Brix’s right, dressed in a blue so pale it was practically white, and would probably pass for human if not for his eyes. Silver, they shone like coins catching the light from beneath the shallow waters of a clear stream. His head turned her way and he smiled, though he didn’t lift his gaze.

  Arden’s spine stiffened, and then she noticed a different male seated next to Brix reach for his fork. He lifted it and placed the tines down against the table, spinning the handle almost absently, but with enough force that the tip of the utensil started lightly carving the smooth wooden surface. His wavy chestnut hair was styled off his forehead, paired with a brown suit that hinted more at business professional than Unseelie reveler. He hadn’t bothered with a coat, clearly unaffected by the chill air.

  Outside of the three she knew, the others around the table didn’t look nearly as regal as the two strange fae. She figured they must be stand-ins, present to give the appearance of a full set. The rest of the regents in this realm were probably too far from here to attend.

  “We shall begin,” Titania announced then, finally pulling her hand away from Mavek so that she could clap them together.

  The sound echoed, and a second later a tall fae stepped up to Brix’s side, holding a tarnished golden tray. A crown rested there, thorny looking, with small leaves made of gold and copper tucked between the metal vines. He presented it to the male with the fork, and waited.

  For a moment, all the male did was stare, face angled away so that Arden couldn’t make out his expression. Then he clucked his tongue and reached for the item, picking up the crown and standing at the same time, forcing the servant to retreat from the table in order to make room. He stepped around, coming up just behind Brix, and brought the crown to hover over the top of his head.

  “A king has passed and a prince has risen,” the faerie began, his voice lifting on the wind to be carried off to those far from them, “so here we gather to crown anew. From this night forth, he shall be keeper of the Night Market and ruler
of all fae who dwell within its confines. Do you accept this regency, Lutin Brix?”

  “I do.” Brix sat still, his hands flat on the table, eyes straight forward. It was hard to tell if he was staring at Mavek, or if the Midnight Prince was merely in his line of sight because of their seating arrangements. “I accept the role, and all its accompanying responsibilities.”

  “Then I, the King of Wonder, hereby officially crown you the Autumn Prince. With this crown, let your power grow so that you can protect your station and its people.” He settled the crown atop Brix’s head, then stepped back and took his seat once more.

  The silence stretched on, all eyes on Brix as his crown began to glow, dimly at first, before brightening so intensely Arden had to look away or risk being blinded. As quickly as the light had come, it diminished, and when she was able to glance back, she saw that Brix’s skin had taken on a glittering sheen.

  Conversation restarted almost immediately followed by the sounds of music and laughter, the revelry picking back up as if someone had hit play again.

  “An Autumn Prince carries the power of the setting sun within him,” Mavek was suddenly whispering into the curve of her ear. “From now on, Brix will glow.”

  It wasn’t overtly evident, similar to if someone had taken pale, golden body glitter and rubbed it over every inch of exposed skin.

  “Even if he changes form?” Arden found herself asking, watching as Brix and the pale fae at his right both lifted their glasses in a toast.

  “Even then,” Mavek clarified.

  “It’ll be harder for him to hide.” That was the main ability of a Lutin. They were shapeshifters. What did it mean for him now if he could no longer fully rely on that power?

  “He’s stronger now than typical Unseelie,” Mavek told her. “As a prince, anyone who isn’t also royal will be inclined to follow his orders. It won’t be easy to harm him, and no lower level fae would risk trying. There’s no need to worry.”