“No, thanks,” said Callie. Her voice crumbled into a pathetic whisper. “I’m not hungry.”
“I insist,” said the waiter. “At least have a drink.”
Before her very eyes, the cups of fruits and sweets blurred and changed like the mermaid tail had. Only, the peaches transformed into golden bowls of clear water and red wines.
Callie gave him a tight smile and lifted the nearest bowl from the tray. She brought it to her lips and pretended to sip the red wine. Its potent fragrance—like rotten grapes and mint—burned her nostrils.
Callie wrinkled her nose and tried not to sneeze.
“It can be too strong for some,” said the waiter. “The more you drink, the better it will taste.”
With that, he turned and glided away to search for another victim of his tricks.
Callie narrowed her eyes after him and inched closer to the wall. There, she poured the wine into a pot-plant. The soil sizzled.
The plant hissed as smoke ribboned up into the air.
Callie didn’t stick around to watch the plant turn into crispy death. She bowed her head and scurried further down the wall, eager to put as much distance between her and the dead plant as possible.
So eager, in fact, that she scurried right into a body as solid as a marble pillar.
Callie grunted and staggered back. She lifted her head and gaped at the solid fae she’d run into.
It was the one from the throne.
Somehow, he seemed taller now that he loomed over her, taller than he’d looked draped over the throne with his long limbs and lazy authority.
Gone was the laziness, and now he blocked her path like a wall itself, and looked down at her. The golden hues of his eyes studied her with a silent, dangerous curiosity.
Callie took a hesitant step back. He didn’t stop her, he just watched.
She chanced another retreat. And he spoke.
“You killed an especially beautiful plant.” His voice was a deep, accented sound that sent chills down her spine.
“Sorry,” she muttered, wide eyes glued to his. “I wasn’t thirsty. I didn’t mean to.”
Callie chanced another step away from him, but just as her damp shoe slid across the floor, he moved.
He swept forward in a single, fluid blur that had her head spinning. When the blur settled, he was standing in front of her again, her lace-curtain clenched in his gloved hands.
Her jaw set as she looked up at him. Callie knew she couldn’t run—it would attract too much attention and she’d be caught within seconds. But she couldn’t just wait for him to strike either.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, washing his gaze over her.
The pallor of his porcelain skin seemed to shine next to the black hair that fell down his face, like the castle’s glow against the night sky.
His pink lips parted, revealing the tips of fangs at the back of his mouth, as he asked, “Are you lost?”
“I …” she began. “I came through a tree.”
“Why?” The sharpness of his voice didn’t match the endless pits of liquid gold that watched her. “You were not with the party who came here. So why did you come?”
“My friend,” she said. “My friend is here.”
The fae’s brow raised, and his eyes glistened with mild amusement. “You have come to take her home, have you?”
His face turned to the side and he looked around the hall. Callie spotted the pointed tips of his ears poking out from his hair. He faced her again and reached out his hand—a hand that ended in fingernails as black coal.
Callie flinched and stepped back. But his hand reached out until it rested upon her damp mane. From beneath his arm, she frowned, her shoulders tucked in on herself.
The just stood there, hand on her head.
“What are you doing?” she grunted, slipping out of his reach. She rubbed her head, as if searching for hair knots or a lethal drop of red wine he might have put there. “What did you do to me?”
“I greeted you.” There was a tedium in his voice, little care for her brewing panic. “It is customary for a member of the court to greet lone wanderers, human or otherwise.” He tilted his head. “What is your friend’s name?”
“Meg—Meghan,” she said. Her limbs were like stone beside her, heavy and motionless, and she wondered if it was her cowardice, or something he had done to her. “Do you know her? Do you know where she is?”
The fae turned his back to the wall and faced the rest of the grand hall. His hands lifted, palms upwards, and vines unfurled from the balconies above.
“Find me the human, Meghan,” he commanded.
The vines curled back up to the balconies and joined together.
Callie gawked up at them, watching as they merged into a single, long vine that slithered above the hall.
It journeyed farther out, until it reached the platform where the dancers swept around to the tune of the harp and flute.
The vine stopped and tangled in on itself.
“Your friend is there,” he said.
Before Callie could sprint for the dancing crowd, the fae grabbed her arm in a grip so tight that it drew a wince from her crumpled mouth. His grip slid down her arm to her wrist where it loosened. Then he guided her back to him.
Callie gazed up at him, caution swarming in the sapphire hues of her eyes, and held her breath.
He studied her, gaze slipping from her tangled hair and flushed cheeks, to her lips and—finally—her eyes. “What is your name?”
She swallowed back a breath of relief. She’d been certain he had meant to harm her, to twist and snap her arm, or condemn her to a life of horrors. “Callie.”
The fae ran the pad of his thumb over her wrist. “Callie,” he repeated, the rich bite of his unearthly accent roughening the sound of her name. “I am Rain,” he added. “High Paladin, and this night’s watcher of the court.”
He lifted her wrist, bringing her hand to his face. For a startled moment, she thought he was going to bite off her hand—but then he raised it higher, and placed it on his head.
It was the same greeting he’d done to her.
Rain released her hand and she stepped back.
“Follow the vines,” he said with a curt nod. And then he was gone—a blur of a shadow had moved by her, but when she spun around to watch after it, it had vanished completely. And she found herself staring at the naked waiter instead.
The waiter spared her a look, an unnerving one full of malice. He smiled such an awful smile that Callie shivered. Then, he ducked into an alcove and vanished as well.
She spared it a moment’s thought before she looked back up at the vines. They still curled above the platform, deep into the packed crowed.
Callie raced towards them before they could disappear and leave her to wander the crowd in search of Meghan alone. The vines were her map, and it was a map she needed to get her friend, then get the hell out of the fae realm.
Even with the vines above to guide her, Callie struggled to not lose her way.
The dance-floor was even more congested than what it had seemed from off the platform. Each time she moved forward, her arms had to press into her sides as she slid between bodies as though they were brick walls closing in on her.
Her gaze darted up and down between the vines and crowd. The constant buzz of panic lingered within her, stirred by the threat of the vines disappearing.
Still, each time she touched her eyes back to the vines, they were still there. The intimidating fae hadn’t lied to her. And then she wondered, can they lie? Or is that a mere slice of fabrication to the very real stories about them?
Callie didn’t intend on finding out.
All paths were clogged as she neared the vines. A circle of fae blocked her way.
Callie reached up on her tip-toes and looked over a fae’s shoulder.
There were two humans in the middle of the circle, spinning round and round and round. Dizziness stung the back of Callie’s eyes just watching them
twirl.
One of the humans was a little boy, wearing clothes from another time. His trousers were pressed and striped with thin white lines, and a matching vest covered his white shirt. And blood stained him in patches.
Callie could see the glisten of tears in his eyes, but he danced, never stopping. The circle of fae cheered and laughed.
Callie thought it best to avoid them.
Just as she made to step backwards and dip away from the circle, something hit her back. It almost felt like a hand shoving her forward. Her body was thrust into the back of a fae, and her forehead smacked off metal armour.
Rubbing her pounding head, Callie stumbled back and squinted up at the fae she’d collided with.
Slowly, the fae turned around to face her.
Her fine features and sloped nose were sprinkled with a light layer of moss, and in place of eyebrow hair were blades of grass.
The fae looked down at her through thin slits of black that reminded Callie of the pebbles back at the lake.
Callie recoiled and tried to sneak away. But the fae stuck out her hand and snatched her wrist.
“Away so soon, human?” she said, her voice low like the wolf’s.
“Sorry,” muttered Callie, trying to tug her wrist back. “Someone pushed me—I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
“A dance to repair the slight, perhaps?” said the fae. A viciousness in her black eyes gleamed brighter than the armour she wore.
Callie shook her head. Her dried hair whipped her cheeks. “I shouldn’t. I’m meant to be looking for my friend. I have to go.”
The fae dug her nails into Callie’s wrist, drawing little drops of blood. Callie winced and yanked back, so hard that when the fae let go, Callie crashed to the floor.
She scrambled back to her feet, clutching her wrist to her chest. The fae’s nails—or were they talons?—were drawn, as if ready to strike her, but the black slits she had for eyes were fixed ahead.
Callie traced her steady gaze over her shoulder. But she saw nothing other than dancing humans and fae, a sobbing man tap-dancing with his bleeding feet, and—the naked waiter.
The waiter stared at the armoured fae. His orange eyes were calm, but there was a twist to his dark lips as they parted at the sides.
It wasn’t a grin. It was a silent snarl.
Callie whipped back around to the fae that had tried to force her into the dance. But she’d already turned her back on Callie and went back to watching the humans dance in the circle. But she didn’t cheer or cackle anymore.
Callie shot the naked waiter a cautious look—to which he only smiled—before she shoved back into the clustered crowd and followed the vines.
The crowd thickened the deeper in she went. More humans passed her by in twirls and curtseys. All of them wore signs of pain; tears in their bloodshot eyes, bruises on their calves, lethargy in the limpness of their movements.
With a glance up at the ceiling, she saw that the vines were directly above her. But when she brought her gaze back down and scanned the dancers, there was no sign of Meghan anywhere.
Callie only saw unfamiliar humans dance like puppets on strings.
Had the High Paladin tricked her? It was possible...it was likely, but for what purpose?
Callie shook the doubts from her head. Her eyes lingered between face and face, searching for the fake-tanned skin she recognised, the orange hair, the green eyes.
Callie tilted back her head and gazed up at the vines again—they started to wither. The ropes coiled into each other like a pit of snakes and blackened into crisp ash. Then, it rained down on the dance-floor like snow in hell.
Meghan wasn’t there.
The High Paladin had tricked her.
He had sent her into the middle of the snake pit for nothing.
Furious, Callie swerved her gaze to the far wall where the altar stood high. The tips of the thrones pointed above the crowd, but the one she’d first spotted the High Paladin on was empty. He wasn’t there to enjoy the little show he’d created.
Just as Callie was about to push through the crowd to keep searching, someone grabbed her arm and hauled her backwards. Callie staggered into bare, heavy arms that wrapped around her, caging her against a hard figure.
A cry escaped her lips. She lunged forward, trying to break away from the arms around her body, but they were as solid as metal bars in a prison.
“Dance with me,” whispered a voice at her ear.
Callie suddenly stopped fighting. Her gaze drifted down to the arms that held her, and then even further down to the bare legs behind hers. It was the waiter.
And she remembered that he was naked.
“Don’t touch me!” screamed Callie. Her legs kicked out as her arms hit at nothing. “Let me go, let me go!”
His arms only tightened around her.
Callie gritted her teeth and swung back her elbow. Jolts of sharp pain shot up her arm. He might’ve been naked, but she suspected that beneath his skin were sheets of metal.
As she cupped her elbow and groaned, his hold loosened slightly.
“Dance with me, and I’ll take you to whoever you search for,” he purred into her hair.
Callie knew better than that. The wolf had warned her not to dance.
In search of a weapon to use against him, she dove her hands into her pockets and rummaged around. But she’d changed her clothes—and then she realised. She’d been a fool and left the phial of salt in her bag. Tucked away in the alcove.
Callie let out a shuddered breath.
“Oh, what a shame,” said the waiter. His whispered voice was drenched in disappointment. “There she is.”
Callie stilled. There who was?
“Meghan?” she squealed.
Her head whipped to the side, her eyes trailing his gaze. He looked over at a dozen humans, jumping around in a circle as they held hands. And one of them had hair like orange peels.
Meghan...
Callie wriggled out of his grasp. Too easily, the waiter released her. Surprised, she whipped around to face the naked waiter, but then it all happened in a blur.
Before her gaze could fix on him, he lunged at her, scooped her in closer, and spun her in a circle. Then, he let her go, a malicious smile on his blackened lips.
Callie staggered back and gaped at him. Wearing only his smile, the waiter melted into the crowd.
Then, she looked down at her feet as she caught her balance. They tapped on the floor. And they wouldn’t stop.
“Callie!”
Callie sucked in a sharp breath and spun around. Meghan had spotted her and danced through the crowd to reach her.
“Callie! What are you doing here? You need to leave!”
Meghan froze.
Callie had gone to speak, but the words collapsed in her throat. Slowly, they both looked down at Callie’s feet. They didn’t tap gently on the stone anymore. They slid across of the floor, then criss-crossed. Callie’s whole body was forced to spin around, and as her face met Meghan’s again, all the colour had drained out of her.
She was dancing.
No matter how hard she willed her legs not to move, she couldn’t stop.
“It’s too late,” said Meghan, twirling. “You shouldn’t have come here, Callie.”
5
Callie danced.
Meghan had been swept away by a fae. They’d waltzed into the crowd, out of sight. Callie had tried to chase after them, had tried to beat her legs into submission. But they had another ruler now. The music controlled them, the flutes and the harps.
And Callie soon realised that the music never stopped.
When the beat picked up and the melody spiralled, so did Callie’s feet. She hopped, dipped and spun until her toes bruised in her sneakers. When the beat slowed, her hips swayed and her arms hung at her sides.
There was one constant—the eternal ache of the eternal dance.
Callie pirouetted closer to a band of humans. The music’s hold over her allowed it. But she didn�
��t see Meghan anywhere.
Then, a wisp of black caught her eye.
Over the heads of the crowd, up on the first level of the altar was the High Paladin, Rain. He lounged on his throne again. The pools of shimmery gold pierced through hall and sliced right through her.
Rain watched her dance from a distance.
It was impossible for Callie to count time in the court.
The sun outside never rose, the party never stopped. But the shreds of fatigue that plagued her body told of days gone. The only way she managed to count the days was by watching the altar, watching when one throne was occupied, then the fae would leave, and another would arrive.
There was rarely more than two fae on the altar at one time.
Callie suspected they were taking turns on overseeing the hall.
So far, she counted three brutal, enduring, trying nights that stretched across forever.
Each step of her foot, twirl on her toes, or slide of her legs, leaked more blood into her boots. They squelched like they had from the lake water.
The pain in her legs had dulled to a constant ache, but her arms were the parts of her body she felt the most.
With her eyes closed, she swayed on the spot and held her arms above her head. They moved from side-to-side, heavier than bags of sand, pulling down against her tired muscles. All the blood had drained out of her arms and gathered in the balls of her shoulders.
It was on that day—the fourth, she guessed—that she and Meghan found each other again.
Callie was dancing by the wall at the edge of the crowd when Meghan appeared. Callie didn’t see her at first; her eyes were shut tight to cage in the tears that welled.
“Callie,” came a croaked sound.
Her eyelids sprung open.
Down the wall, underneath the constant glow of the torches, was Meghan. Her shoulders were slumped, but her head moved; a slight bounce that fought against the needs of her body.
The friends locked gazes and gravitated towards each other, feet dragging over the ground, arms curving into swan-like shapes.
As Callie reached her, she saw that Meghan wept silently.
“We need to stop,” whispered Callie. The hoarseness of her voice startled her. It was the first time she’d spoken in days, but it sounded as though she’d never used her voice before. “I can’t do it anymore. It hurts.”
Feared Fables Box Set: Dark and Twisted Fairy Tale Retellings, (Feared Fables Box Sets Book 1) Page 15