The Faerie Guardian & The Faerie Prince

by Rachel Morgan

  When the oath comes to an end, I walk past Councilor Starkweather and kneel in front of the table where the markings artist sits. I raise my hands and place them, wrists up, on the table. The artist dips his specially sharpened stylus into a pot of black ink and begins to draw the curling pattern onto my skin. It stings a little, but we were all warned to expect that. As he works, he whispers the words of the spell that will transfer the protective enchantments from my trainee pendant to the ink embedded in my skin.

  With a nod of his head to indicate he’s done, the markings artist leans back. Councilor Starkweather clears her throat, turns to the front of the stage, and utters the words I’ve been working five years to hear: “You are now a member of the Guild of Guardians.”

  I stand and turn around, dimly aware of the clapping as I look out at the sea of faces. I catch Tora’s glistening eyes before my gaze is drawn to the back of the hall. I see him standing there, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, watching me with an expression I can’t figure out. I should be yelling Where the hell have you been, but instead I’m so full of joy and excitement that all I want to do is fling my arms around him and do a whole lot of uncharacteristic squealing. And kissing.

  No. I do not want to kiss Ryn.

  I carefully make my way off the other side of the stage and back to my chair. After two more trainees have received their markings, Councilor Starkweather calls Ryn’s name. He saunters down the aisle as though it’s completely acceptable for him to have shown up late to one of the most important occasions of his life. I realize then that my earlier frustration with him has definitely not disappeared.

  By the time he takes his seat, I’ve surreptitiously removed my amber and stylus from the straps around my ankles. I write a quick message and send it to him. You suck as a date.

  From the corner of my eye, I see him slip his hand inside his jacket. A moment later my amber vibrates. I thought this wasn’t a date.

  Oh, so that gives him the right to just leave me waiting for ages at Tora’s house? Pressing my lips together, I write another message. You still have to be on time, jerk-face! I looked like an idiot walking in here alone.

  He leans forward and looks past the two trainees between us. His eyes travel from my face down to my shoes before he sits back and writes another message. An idiot is one thing I’m sure you did NOT look like.

  I don’t know how to respond to that, so I put my amber and stylus away. I keep my eyes directed forward as the last few trainees in our class go up to receive their markings. As the program inches closer to the biggest announcement of the evening, my heart beats out an erratic pattern and I start to feel sick. I want this so badly, I don’t know what I’ll do if that top position isn’t mine. I’ll have to suck it up and take it like a big girl, of course, but my heart will be so many kinds of broken I don’t know how I’ll handle it.

  “The competition amongst certain members of this year’s graduating class has been fierce from the very first day of their training five years ago,” Councilor Starkweather says. I’m not quite sure how she knows that, since she wasn’t present for a single day of our training. I suppose she must have heard stories from the mentors. “They have worked remarkably hard, and I’m sure they’re desperate to know the recipient of the coveted first place position.”

  I clench my hands together in my lap. Oh please let it be me.

  “So, without further delay—” she unrolls a scroll in her hand, which must be for show, because surely she already knows who the winner is “—the top graduate for this year is—”

  Pleasepleaseplease.

  “Oryn Larkenwood.”

  Disbelief. WHAT THE—

  “And Violet Fairdale.”

  Pause. Okay, what?

  “As was the case with only one other graduating class in the history of this Guild, we have two trainees whose stellar performances have managed to earn them the same number of points. Congratulations to Miss Fairdale and Mr. Larkenwood.”

  The scroll in her hand vanishes with a puff of smoke, and applause erupts around me. I feel a hand on mine and see Ryn reaching over the two people between us to pull me to my feet. He lets me walk in front of him up to the stage where we both kneel once more in front of the markings artist and receive the tiny extra flourish on each of our wrists.

  The final few minutes of the ceremony pass in a giddy blur. Before I know it, everyone is standing up, and Flint is lifting me off the ground to twirl me around while Raven and Tora jump up and down like Calla on a sugar high. I laugh. Properly. More than I’ve laughed in years. And my smile is so wide it threatens to hurt my face.

  Everything is perfect.

  The ballroom is part of the Guild, but the décor makes it appear as though it’s outside. The walls are draped with silver ivy, flowers, and tiny glow-bugs. Enchanted stars twinkle against the darkened ceiling. Snowflakes float toward the floor but disappear before touching anything. It looks like a winter wonderland.

  Round tables form an outer ring around the room, while the center is occupied by a dance floor. In the middle of each table is a tree carved from non-melting ice with various edible treats dangling from each branch. Pieces of glass that gleam when they catch the light are scattered across each table.

  It’s beautiful, but instead of admiring the room with Tora, Raven and Flint, I’m searching it for Ryn. One of our ‘rewards’ for coming first is that we have to open the dance floor—another horrifying requirement I’d forgotten all about in the build-up to graduation.

  I’ve almost done a complete circle around the room when I hear a voice behind me. A voice that manages to make my insides curl up with happiness one second and burn with annoyance the next. “Hey, Sexy Pixie.” I turn around. Ryn looks amused as he asks, “Looking for someone?”

  Definitely burning with annoyance.

  Without a word, I grab his arm and drag him beneath a curtained archway into one of the many small rooms leading off the ballroom. I don’t know what people are supposed to do in here—powder their noses, or make out, perhaps—but it’ll do just fine for the confrontation Ryn and I are about to have.

  “Where have you been?” I demand. “Did you forget you were supposed to meet me at Tora’s house? Did you forget you were graduating?”

  “Violet, there is no way anyone who’s spent the past few days around you could possibly have forgotten about graduation. I didn’t forget anything, I just got held up Underground.”

  “Underground?”

  “Yes, I had to fetch something.”

  “You had to fetch something?” I can’t believe how unconcerned he is. “Underground?”

  Ryn nods. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”

  I shake my head. “What could possibly be so important that you would risk losing your life and—more importantly—missing graduation for?”

  Ryn holds his fist up and opens his fingers. A gold chain slips down and dangles from between his thumb and forefinger. Hanging from the end of the chain is a gold key. A gold key with tiny outspread wings.

  The tokehari my mother left me.

  I’m certain my heart comes to a complete stop before jumping into furious action. Goose bumps rush across my skin and breathing suddenly becomes difficult. “Where did you get that?” I whisper.

  “Underground.”

  Moisture coats my eyes and distorts my vision. “But … when … how did you find it?”

  “It took a little while.” Ryn steps behind me and loops the necklace over my head. The metal is cool against my skin. “I went back to the singing well I threw the necklace down all those years ago and started there. A beautiful piece of jewelry like this always leaves a trail, especially Underground.” His fingers brush my neck, lingering for a moment as he attaches the clasp. “It wasn’t easy to track, but I figured it was worth the effort.”

  My head spins as Ryn comes to stand in front of me. “So … every time you’ve had a bruised eye or bleeding lip in the past few weeks, it’s because you’ve
been Underground searching for my necklace?”

  He lifts a shoulder, smiles in a way that does weird things to my stomach, and says simply, “I thought it was time I got it back for you.”

  My chest rises and falls unnaturally fast. Oh crap oh crap oh crap, why do I feel like doing something completely, utterly crazy like pushing Ryn against the wall and pressing my lips—

  Friend, friend, friend, blares the sensible part of my brain like an internal security alarm. I squeeze my eyes shut and give my head a small shake. That’s right. Ryn is just my friend. Anything more than that would almost definitely end in disaster, a broken heart, and yet another person leaving me.

  So instead of embarrassing myself, I open my eyes and say, “Thank you.”

  Ryn gestures toward the archway. “Well, now that you’ve forgiven me for being such a terrible date-but-not-really-a-date, shall we do this dancing thing?”

  Seventeen

  We head back out to the ballroom and find the table with our names on it. Honey and her Seer boyfriend are at the same table, and Honey jumps up to throw her arms around my neck while telling me she always knew I’d be the top graduate. I go rigid before awkwardly patting her back; I’m pretty sure we’ve never hugged before.

  After Honey lets go of me, Dale and a girl not from the Guild join our table. Dale gapes at me before saying to Ryn, “Dude, I thought you were joking.”

  Ryn wraps his fingers loosely, but somehow protectively, around my wrist. Honey looks between the two of us, apparently as confused as Dale. “Obviously not,” Ryn says. “I told you I’d be here with Violet, and I meant it.”

  “But …” Dale’s eyes slide to me, then back to Ryn. “You don’t even like her. You’re the one who’s always telling everyone else all the things that are wrong with her.”

  “Well, I guess I need to tell you something else now,” Ryn says before I can remind Dale that I’m standing right here. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said any of those things.”

  Everyone at the table stares at Ryn, including me. Did Oryn Larkenwood just admit to being wrong about something? His hand still clasps my wrist, and his thumb moves slightly against my skin. It’s almost imperceptible, barely a movement at all, and I’m sure he doesn’t even know he did it, but it sends a shiver racing up my arm.

  I look down at our joined hands just as Councilor Starkweather appears next to us and says, “I won’t be making any announcement about the first dance. When the music changes, that’s your signal.” And with that she sweeps away, the simple black dress she had on earlier replaced now by a flowing red gown. Everyone else in the ballroom seems to be taking their seats, as though they know something is about to happen. Not wanting to be the last one left standing, I pull my arm out of Ryn’s grasp and reach for the back of my chair.

  He stops me. “Music’s changing. You don’t get to sit down until you’ve performed your dancing duty.”

  Crap! My feet freeze to the floor as panic sets in. You can do this, I silently instruct myself. Move forward. Don’t trip. Just relax and allow the spell of the music to guide your feet through the dance. It’s as easy as that.

  “Interesting,” Ryn murmurs as we head slowly to our doom.

  From the way he says it, I know he wants me to ask. “What?”

  “You’re actually nervous.”

  “Am not,” I respond immediately.

  “Your pulse is jumping in your neck. Your hands are sweaty.”

  I move to wipe my hands against my skirt. “Don’t.” Ryn catches one of my hands. “You don’t want everyone to know you’re nervous, do you?” He loops my arm through his and leads me to the center of the ballroom. He holds his head high. I can just about feel the confidence oozing from him.

  “You’re enjoying this,” I whisper.

  “What, being the center of attention, or knowing that you’re nervous?”

  “Both.”

  After a pause, he says, “Maybe just a little.”

  We reach the center of the horrifyingly huge room, and I turn to face Ryn. I certainly can’t wipe my sweaty hands dry now, but I don’t want Ryn to have to touch them either. I hurriedly mutter the spell that Aria and Jasmine always use to dry themselves off after training. The music changes once more, and I can sense from the magic that we’re just moments away from having to start the dance. Panic rises in my chest and threatens to claw its way out of my throat.

  I. Don’t. Dance.

  “I don’t know what you’re panicking about,” Ryn says, putting my left hand on his shoulder and holding up my right hand. “You danced perfectly well at Zell’s masquerade.”

  “If I remember correctly, you pulled me onto the dance floor without my consent.” I swallow, trying to push the panic down. “And I didn’t have an entire ballroom of people watching me.”

  Oh dear Seelie Queen I’m going to trip in these heels and land on my butt and my dress will tear right down the middle and everyone will see my ridiculous enchanted underwear and—

  “V, you have to stand a little closer to me if this is going to work,” Ryn says, interrupting my panicked thoughts.

  “Right,” I whisper. I feel the spell of the music wrap around me as I step closer to Ryn. My feet get ready to move, and I certainly hope they know what to do because all I can think about now is how close Ryn’s chest is to mine. Close enough to feel his heat. Close enough to smell his—

  And then I’m dancing, swept away by the music and the magic and Ryn’s arms guiding me. We spin graceful circles around the floor. Ryn lets go of me and I twirl beneath his arm, laughing at the same time. It’s so not me, and yet I find I’m actually enjoying it.

  “See?” Ryn says. “This is easy. And you might possibly be having fun.”

  The magic guides me as I step out of Ryn’s arms, twirl behind his back, and catch his hand. “You might possibly be right.”

  He pulls me back into position. “Oh, I forgot to tell you something,” he says. He leans forward and his lips brush my ear as he whispers, “You are more beautiful than any other girl in this room.”

  A shiver races down my spine and across my arms, and with it, the wall I built up to hide all the not-just-friends feelings I’ve had about Ryn cracks. Maybe it’s the rush of winning, or the unexpected joy of spinning around a dance floor, or the giddiness produced by Ryn’s whispered words, but all of a sudden I can’t hold it in anymore. A dam of emotions—those stupid, stupid things I do my best to stay away from—crashes through the wall and drenches me in everything I’ve been trying not to feel.

  Instead of fighting it, I close my eyes and let myself go. I feel the muscles of his shoulder beneath my hand. The frame his arms create is strong, secure, but I want those arms tighter around me. Much tighter, much closer. I want there to be no space at all between us.

  I. Want. Him. So. Badly.

  I want to kiss him, laugh with him, cry with him, share every moment of my future with him, because no matter how many awful things he’s done in the past, I can’t shake the undeniable feeling that when his arms are around me, I’m home.

  I’m also screwed because I’m never telling him any of that.

  With a shuddering breath, I look up to find him watching me. A smile lifts the corner of his mouth as he leans forward once more and whispers, “I knew it.” For one heart-stopping second I’m certain he somehow knows everything I’m thinking and feeling, but then he adds, “I always knew Bran had a thing for that library assistant with the blonde and purple hair. See him over there, chatting her up?” He twirls me beneath his arm, and I catch a glimpse of Ryn’s mentor with his arm around the shoulders of the Guild’s library assistant.

  “Oh, yeah.” I laugh, mainly because I’m so relieved that Ryn was talking about Bran and not the tumult of emotions coursing through me.

  The dance floor begins to fill up as other couples join us. “This is getting boring,” Ryn says. “Let’s give the old people something to talk about, shall we?” And with that he pushes me away from him.
I spin out, jerk to a halt with my hand still attached to his, then spin back. He catches me before my back hits his chest and dips me so low I can see the whole ballroom upside down. He swoops me around, my hair brushing the floor, then pulls me up, twirls me once more, and catches me around my waist. He lifts me up into the air and shouts, “Woohoo!”

  “Ryn!” I gasp. Councilor Starkweather has a hand covering her mouth, and she isn’t the only one. Half the ballroom is staring at us in shock, and the other half appears to be suppressing laughter. “Are you insane?”

  He places me gently on my feet just as the music morphs into a new dance. “Insane enough to ask if you’ll dance a second dance with me.”

  I tilt my head to the side, considering it. “Apparently I’m insane enough to agree.”

  Ryn’s dazzling smile sets butterflies off in my stomach. He takes a step toward me and holds his hands up, palms facing me. The spell of the music urges me to do the same thing. Our hands touch, and I’m not sure if the tingling I feel is real or imagined. My gaze is locked on his as we move slowly, rhythmically, in time to the music.

  Backward, forward, twist under.

  My face is hot. It’s probably red, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. I can’t even convince my eyes to look away from his. I wonder what he’s thinking. He’d probably be horrified if he knew I want to throw myself on top of him and tear his shirt off. I’m kind of horrified myself.

  Step to the right, step to left, twist under.

  He glances down for a second, and I wonder if he’s looking at the gold key or, well, at the part of my chest that my enchanted underwear has ‘enhanced.’ My skin burns hotter as my gaze moves down to his lips. I want to know if they feel as soft as they look.

  Backward, forward—

  Click.

  A sudden realization strikes me. Something so obvious, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it hours ago. Ryn catches himself before standing on my feet, and I notice then that I’ve stopped moving.