A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic)

by Elise Kova

  “Gather the power of kings—the power that does not belong to you. Take that foreign magic and cast it to its rightful owner,” Vena instructs.

  I inhale on Davien’s exhale. Everything is thrown off for a second. I quickly get back in sync. This whole ritual is hanging on me and I’ve no idea what I’m doing. The longer I’m trying the more frustratingly apparent it is.

  But I have to try.

  I begin to focus on every inch of my body. I focus on the muscles of my feet as they press into the ground, keeping me stable as the rest of me feels like it’s trying to fly away. I focus on my stomach, still doing flips at the way Davien continues to stare at me. I focus on my physical body to the point that it fades away. As if once my mind has understood it, then it no longer needs to be considered.

  Then…what’s left is song. That thrumming beat I heard when I fell into the fire. The music of ancients, all singing together in a chorus that’s highlighted by my mother’s voice.

  That must be the magic. Magic is happiness, warmth, familiarity. Pure power should make someone feel good, after all.

  I have to let it go. This wasn’t meant for me. And yet, it already feels as though it’s one with my blood. As though there’s no way I could ever untangle it.

  Still, I have to try.

  Holding the necklace tighter, I imagine the power flowing down my arms, much like the magic I saw flowing through the trees the first night I tried to escape. Davien’s face is illuminated. I dare not break our eye contact. But I can only assume that it’s working.

  “Now say the words,” Vena commands softly.

  “I give this magic to you. Take the—” I don’t get to finish.

  Magic explodes out from me with a sharp snap. I’m sent backward, landing awkwardly on Vena. Davien is staggered, brought to his knees. Even Allor is on the ground. The necklace is sent flying, skittering across the floor to land far away from all of us, miraculously unbroken.

  Davien curses. “Why didn’t it work?” He looks between Vena and Allor with an accusatory stare. Somehow I’ve avoided his blame and ire.

  “It was a first attempt.” Vena helps me off of her with a kind smile. At least she’s not cross for how we landed. “Rituals rarely go smoothly the first time, especially ones that are adjusted and adapted as they’re being performed.”

  “I need that power,” Davien growls.

  “You will have it. And we have time to get it.” Vena stands and brushes unseen dust and dirt from her flowing clothing. “She is safe here as long as the magic is within her. Our borders are secure.” Vena looks to Allor. “Does King Boltov have any inclination of what’s happening here?”

  “He has no idea what’s happening in Dreamsong right now,” Allor says a little too easily and smiles a little too widely for my liking.

  “Then we have time.” Vena extends a hand to me. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine.” I take her hand and stand, swaying slightly. “A little tired, I suppose.”

  “I imagine that would take it out of you,” Vena says thoughtfully. “We should adjourn for the day.”

  “But—”

  “Exhausting her will do nothing.” Vena interrupts Davien’s objection. “We’ll try again tomorrow. And Allor, if you hear anything or find anything that might help, let us know.”

  “Of course. Now, I should return before any of my fellow Butchers wonder where I’ve gone off to.” She gives a little wave and steps over into the shade of Vena’s throne. With a puff of smoke, she’s gone. I look around the room, searching for where she could come up next.

  “Don’t try looking for her; she’s likely already out of the city. She has a unique talent for shadow stepping over long distances, which makes her very useful to us,” Vena says.

  “Butchers,” Davien mutters.

  “Are you sure we can trust her?” I dare to ask. Vena arches her eyebrows. “What is she giving them?”

  “Nothing. They’ve no idea she’s working for us.” Vena seems to bristle at the fact that I would accuse her of any ill design when it comes to this arrangement. I suppose I can’t blame her. I am an outsider. But I can’t shake this feeling…

  “She’s gone from the High Court for a very long time. Plus, her answers…didn’t you hear how she avoided anything direct?” I say.

  “You should leave the management of Dreamsong and the Acolytes to me. You focus on regaining your strength so we can try again tomorrow.”

  “You mean the management to me, don’t you?” Davien says, locking eyes with Vena.

  “Of course, Your Majesty. A slip of the tongue. I’m not accustomed to you being here.”

  “See it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Would you like us to stop working with Allor?” Vena asks Davien and folds her hands before her, clearly confident she already knows the answer.

  “No, she’s proved her use. And if she ever steps out of line or becomes not useful…then we’ll kill her.” Davien starts for the door. He pauses, glancing at me. “You, come with me.”

  “What?”

  “I want to speak to you.”

  I glance to Vena, who just shrugs. Thoroughly confused, I follow Davien out of the audience chamber. We emerge back into the meeting hall, now empty of all except the various attendants and a few unfamiliar faces in a corner.

  Davien’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me toward him. His wings unfurl with a shower of sparks.

  “Wh—” I don’t get to finish.

  “I’m going to fly unless you tell me not to.” He locks eyes with me once more and our sides melt together.

  “Take me away,” I whisper. He wraps me in his arms and leaps for an open archway along the top of the gathering hall. In a breath we’re out of that oppressive building that reeks of our failure to separate the magic from me and stepping into the open air.

  Chapter 19

  With a flap of Davien’s wings, we break away from the hold the earth has on us and soar through the skies above Dreamsong. My heart is in my throat once more, stomach doing flips. But not with terror.

  I feel safe in his arms, I realize. He holds me with easy security. As if, even with my broad shoulders and strong hands, I’m no trouble to him.

  My fingers tease his hair at the nape of his neck lightly. The long strands are raked by the wind, away from his sculpted face. The wind shifts and his gaze turns from the horizon to where he’ll put his foot next. He catches me admiring him and a flush covers my chest and cheeks.

  Davien chuckles, but says nothing about my staring. His foot hits the pointed spire of a building, like a feather balancing on a needle, and he pushes off once more. We start our ascent back to the cotton clouds drifting as effortlessly through the blue sky as us.

  “May I ask you something?”

  “I believe you just did.”

  I roll my eyes and he chuckles.

  “Yes, Katria, what is it?”

  “Why is your flying more like jumping than the other winged fae?” I look around us. Davien soars higher than most of the others. But only at the crest of his arc. Then he comes back to earth as others sustain their altitude.

  “Ah,” he says with a soft sigh. “That…”

  “Is it because of your wings?” I ask.

  “Do you want to hear me answer your question? Or should I just let you speculate?” Davien laughs and I give a sly smile. We touch down, this time on the railing of a balcony, and shoot up once more. The rooftops of Dreamsong glisten with the sunlight. Gilded gutters and glass shingles catch the early dawn. “Yes, it’s because of my wings. And they are weak because of my being forced to grow up in exile. I was far from this land—my homeland—and all its magic. Think of our power as a muscle. It languishes from lack of use. And I had precious little magic to use in the Natural World to train myself.”

  “So your wings were tattered from not being used?” I glance over his shoulder at the beat of his wings. Even though they are frayed and thinned at the edges, holes punched through
as though he was shot down once by archers, they flap with power and force. They seem stronger than the first time we flew. Perhaps I’m not the only one becoming more luminescent in this world.

  “Among other flaws in my magic,” he admits. It sounds painful for him to do so. Which makes it all the more meaningful when he continues. “It’s why I could never let you see me.” His grip tightens slightly. “I couldn’t even so much as glamour myself when we first met, or dismiss my wings when I wished. You would’ve known exactly what I was from the first moment. I was a pathetic, weak creature.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is.”

  “You fended off a Butcher to save me.”

  His eyes dart toward mine, lips parted slightly. I have never paid more attention to a man’s lips before. And he seems to be just as keen on mine. I imagine him staring at my mouth as I spoke, blindfolded. The thought nearly has me squirming in his arms.

  “Oren did, technically. I could only flee.”

  “You charged in and saved me.”

  He seems frustrated and embarrassed by my trying to pay him a compliment. I can relate to that discomfort. “I should have been able to do more…”

  “That was another thing you wanted the power of the old kings for, wasn’t it? To restore you to the fae you would have been if you’d grown up in Midscape?”

  “Yes.” He glances at me with longing. Once more, he’s looking through me, not at me. He’s looking at the power that’s his.

  “I’m going to do my best to give it to you,” I say softly. “I promise I am.”

  “I know.”

  Before anything else can be said, he descends. This movement has a bit of finality to it and I tighten my grip slightly around his neck, bracing myself against him for when we meet the ground. Of course, our landing is as delicate as the rest of his flight has been.

  We’ve landed on a vacant plot on the far edge of the city, at the edge of the mountains where the forest is encroaching on the valley. All of the houses of Dreamsong are packed together, right on top of each other. It didn’t fully strike me how closely until I saw this empty lot. Giles and Oren stand together, engaged in a heated debate over a book that they don’t so much as glance up from as we approach.

  “I see you’ve made a lot of progress while I was gone,” Davien says, that deep voice of his silencing the argument and bringing all eyes—mine included—to him.

  “We just started for the day,” Giles says with a dramatic sigh. “We’re trying to decipher the instructions Vena sent us out with.”

  “Show me? I’m certain I can help.” Davien steps forward.

  Oren turns the book, holding it out so Davien can flip through the pages. I look around his side. There are pictures of houses and their various parts on the left-hand pages and instructions on the right. Whoever made the drawings had a meticulous attention to detail. Every joist and joining has been carefully labeled and marked. The instructions detail everything from supplies, to timing, to words that need to be said and actions that need to be performed.

  “Is this a spell book?” I ask.

  “It’s a record of rituals, yes.” Davien continues flipping to the pages marked with silken bookmarks.

  “It was passed down in my court,” Giles says fondly. “Rituals from a different age, when the Court of Pillars were the best builders in all of Aviness.”

  “So if I do this—” I point a finger at the instructions on a random right page “—then I get this?” I move my finger to the left page, where there’s a detail of an awning over a door.

  “Simplified, yes.” He nods.

  “Though you likely won’t be doing anything. These are for fae.” Giles chuckles.

  “You speak too quickly about things you don’t know, Giles. Always a shortcoming for you,” Davien says plainly.

  “Pardon?”

  “I brought Katria here because I thought she might be of critical use to us.”

  “You’re going to have her help with a ritual?” Giles balks.

  “I’m going to have her perform one. If she’s up for it.”

  “Excuse me?” It’s now my turn to share in looking at Davien in disbelief. “I’ve never—I don’t know—you saw how it went earlier.”

  “How it went earlier is exactly why I brought you here.” Davien looks at me. “You don’t do well in confined spaces. You struggle with instruction and rules.” I suppose that’s not entirely untrue. “And you clearly were uncomfortable around Allor.” That’s definitely true. “None of that makes for a positive environment to use magic in. I thought this would be a project you could be enthusiastic about—you like working with your hands. You enjoy building things. And you prefer to have a purpose stemming from a clear goal. We’re working on something important for all of Dreamsong.”

  I force myself to ignore just how much detail he has gathered about me and my personality, instead asking, “Which is?”

  “A tunnel into the mountain,” Giles says eagerly. Oren gives him a sharp nudge. “What?”

  “It’s supposed to be a secret.”

  “Who is she going to tell?” Giles throws his hands in the air. “We’re basically her only friends here!” I blink several times and my chest tightens. He catches the expression and hastily adds, “Sorry, I mean, that came out harsh—”

  “You think you’re my friend?” I whisper.

  All three of them look at me now with strange, unintelligible stares.

  “Well…yes. Unless that bothers you?”

  I shake my head quickly. “Not at all. I’m not familiar with friends. Never really met many people. My family kept me inside. A lot.” I force laughter, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere but no doubt making it worse.

  Davien gently grips my shoulder and squeezes lightly. “You have friends here, Katria.”

  “I finally make friends and they’re a world away.” I’m still laughing. So why does it hurt? Pain flashes through Davien’s eyes, as though it’s his chest tightening and not mine.

  “Just a Fade away,” Oren reminds me. “One we’re fairly well versed in crossing.”

  “Right. So, this project is a tunnel into the mountains?” I quickly try and divert the topic away from me.

  “Yes, just in case Boltov attacks. At least some of Dreamsong will have a place to escape to,” Giles says solemnly.

  “How many?” I can’t help but ask.

  “Not enough. Though we’ll do our best.”

  “Why don’t you two start?” Davien suggests. “Katria and I will watch for a bit so she can get a sense of it.” Davien retreats back to the beaten path that lines the front of the lot, motioning for me to follow.

  I look back out over Dreamsong. I can see the entire city from this vantage as it slopes down around Vena’s main hall. Hundreds of displaced people and families, living in danger…struggling and fighting to reclaim a homeland that they might never see again and, even if they could, might not be the same when they return.

  That feeling is so foreign to me that I have to struggle to comprehend it. I’ve never felt that drawn to anywhere. I’ve never had somewhere I would fight at all costs to get back to.

  Davien’s manor? I suppose? I’m fighting to get back there. But even that…it’s just a house. It’s not my home. Maybe I could turn it into my home someday. But for now, it’s just a place to lay my head. Is that what I’m struggling to get back to? Is that the best I have to hope for in life?

  “Your thoughts are heavy,” Davien interrupts my contemplations.

  “What?”

  “Your shoulders hunch slightly when you’re thinking about something sad.” He runs his finger along the ridge of my shoulder from my neck to the edge, where it hovers.

  “Do you really think we’ll be able to defeat Boltov?” I ask softly, avoiding the truth of what I was thinking.

  “I do. We have to. I refuse to entertain any other option.” Davien turns his gaze over Dreamsong as well with purpose. “And you know what?” />
  “What?”

  “Even though none of this is happening how I intended, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re meant to be here, with me, while I do this.” He finishes his sweep of the city and his attention lands on me.

  “I’m holding you back.”

  “You’re helping me learn. Forcing me to take time to become acclimated to Midscape before I have full use of my powers. Teaching me to be still and patient—that I can’t charge ahead and defeat Boltov overnight. I shudder to think of what might have happened if you weren’t here to force me to slow down.”

  His mouth tugs into a smirk at one corner. The look is a bit sultry, in an entirely unintentional way that makes it all the more irresistible. Davien doesn’t realize just how attractive he is, I realize. His appeal is like his magic. It was unused in the human world. A muscle that went unflexed for such a long time that he doesn’t even realize the strength he has. Soon enough, he’ll realize that power, too. And then women will be fawning over him left and right. A handsome prince returned from exile to claim the throne… I bet there are a hundred fae like Laura who will trip over themselves to be with him.

  And where will that leave me?

  Forgotten, back in the Natural World.

  You never had a place here to begin with, a nasty voice seethes in the back of my mind. You were never even meant to be here. Or with him.

  “I’m doing all that?” I arch my eyebrows skeptically, keeping my reservations to myself.

  “And more.” Davien reaches for my hand and then thinks better of it, as if he can read my mind. “Oh, look, they’re going to begin.”

  I do as he commands, relieved for the distraction.

  There’s a small pile of supplies off to the side that Oren and Giles are moving—materials I would and would not expect to find for building. It’s everything from lumber, to blocks, to geodes—cracked like eggs, their shimmering, crystal yolks catching the sunlight. There are buckets of paint and brushes, one of which Giles picks up.

  He begins to dribble paint along the ground, murmuring as he goes. Meanwhile, Oren is taking some of the smaller tree limbs and placing them at the four corners of the outline Giles is making. At the top of each of the rough posts he places a crystal, the branch magically weaving around it to hold the stone like a jewel at the top of a scepter.