by Elise Kova
“Such hardship for you.” I smirk. “You struck me as wanting to be king. So I would think that them not showing you proper respect would upset you.”
A thoughtful expression relaxes his brow. His lips part for a soft sigh and fall into an easy smile. He runs a hand through his hair. I watch as every silken strand cascades back into place, the braids he’s woven through it snagging slightly on his fingers.
“I think there will be years for me to enjoy the trappings of kingship. For now, I want to see this world as an ordinary man—as much as I can be ordinary—to understand the struggles of my people. To feel their needs as I live among them. And even when I am king, I should hope that my subjects see me as a man as much as their king. As someone with his own hopes and dreams and desires.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly. “What is it?”
I hadn’t even realized we’d stopped walking. The square has faded away. The squeals of laughter? Gone. All that remains is him and the music in a triumphant symphony.
“I think you’ll be a great king.” I really do. So why does my chest ache? Why am I already feeling the edges of a hurt I was trying to avoid?
Davien’s hand lifts and hovers by my temple. He hesitates. I don’t know if I want him to touch me or not. The ground under my feet has changed in more ways than my simply coming to Midscape. Even if I can return to the human world, everything will be different. My world changed irrevocably when I fell into that fire.
He brushes a stray hair behind my ear lightly and whispers, “Why do you look so sad about that?”
“Because…” When you’re king, that means I won’t see you again. It means you won’t be right here…within arm’s reach.
“Because?” He shifts slightly closer to me. I am his sole focus. He’s joined me in this bubble I’ve made where everything else has fallen away. For once, I know he’s looking at me and not the magic within me. If I held my breath, would time stop? Could I use the magic within me to build walls around us to keep everything else out?
I have my answer in the form of Giles and Shaye crashing in on our moment, bringing with them a noisy reality.
“What’re you two doing?” Giles asks. Shaye lifts her eyebrows, glancing between us skeptically. I’m distracted by the crown made of glass on Giles’s brow.
“I was about to get crowns for Katria and myself,” Davien says, lowering his hand and crossing to the stall we’d been headed toward. Shaye hums, narrowing her eyes slightly. Her usually threatening aura is diminished some by the ring of pink roses across her forehead.
Davien returns promptly, handing me a similar crown. But instead of roses, the flower is one I don’t recognize.
“What’re these?” The flowers are pink and purple, with dozens of thin, long petals.
“Aster,” Davien answers as he holds the crown over my head. “May I?”
“Sure.” I try and sound casual but my throat is so thick I almost choke on the simple word.
“Women wear the crowns of the last flowers to bloom before winter, men wear replicas of the glass crown to bring strength and leadership needed to endure the coming winter,” he says thoughtfully, running his fingertips lightly over the crown’s flora. I have never been jealous of a flower before…but here I am.
“Interesting choice of flower and color.” Shaye continues her examination of me. I feel as if she’s sizing me for a dress. If she was, that’d explain the sensation of not being able to measure up.
“I’m sure it just happened to be the one Davien grabbed.” Giles takes Shaye’s elbow.
“There are many over there.” Shaye hangs on the topic, refusing to budge as Giles attempts to guide her away. “Was it a careless choice? Or is there more thought behind it?”
Davien’s brow knits slightly and he looks at Shaye from the sides of his eyes. Agitation ripples off of him.
“What does aster mean?” I ask. I know very little about flowers other than some rudimentary knowledge of edible ones. The language of flowers was one my sisters learned. There was never an extra seat at the table during their lessons for me.
“It’s—” Davien looks back to me with panic flashing in his eyes. He hangs on the next word a little too long, searching for what to say. For the first time I wonder what it feels like for a fae to try and tell a lie. Does it hurt? Do rocks fall from their lips like in the old stories? Or…does he taste metal, too?
“Oh! I can’t believe I found you, miss!” Raph materializes out of nowhere, wedging himself between Davien and me. It’s only then that I realize how close we’ve been standing. As soon as I take a step away, the world sharpens once more. The noise, the people, the celebrations that carried on, oblivious to Davien and I. Raph thrusts a lute into my hands, the motion sets his miniature glass crown crooked across his brow. “Toldja I’d get you one. It’s even pretty decent if I do say so myself.”
I take the lute as though he’s passing me a babe. I cradle its neck, treating it with all the gentle care it deserves. It’s not as nice as Mother’s, not by half. But it’s fine enough make.
“What did you make her give away to get that?” Davien looms over Raph ominously.
“Just a song, and I let her decide all the conditions of it!” Raph holds up his hands, backing into me. I rest a hand on his shoulder protectively, looking up at Davien.
“I made sure I was careful on what I promised.”
“And did you get that through upstanding means?” Shaye asks.
“Or the kind that Uncle Giles is going to have to bail you out of trouble for?” Giles looks a little too excited about the prospect.
“I got it properly,” Raph says defensively. It’s not a clear answer, and I smirk. I really hope the lute wasn’t stolen. But I don’t hope that to the point that I’m going to give it back without playing at least a little. The strap is already over my shoulder, my fingers plucking the strings as I tune. “Are you going to perform now?”
I glance over my shoulder at the platform where the musicians are. “I’m not going to interrupt.”
“It’s like the tavern,” he says. “Anyone can go and play.”
“It seems rather full up there…” Part of me is slightly nauseous about performing before all these revelers. The other part longs to be on the stage once more, lute in hand.
“I think you should.” Davien’s deep voice cuts through my objections with ease. “I’d love to hear you play again when I can gaze upon your face, rather than just the back of your head.”
How am I supposed to say no to that? “How many times did you listen to me in the woods?”
He gives me the gentlest smile. “Enough to know that you’re better than half the people up there right now.” Davien rests his hand on mine over the neck of the instrument. “Go and play, for me. Fill my world with your song.”
I give a small nod. My eyes stay trapped with Davien’s as my thoughts are tangled up with him to the point that I’m nearly tripping over my feet. The song the band is playing is swelling. Music is glittering in the early night and I tear myself away from that magical man to duck and dash on light feet to the stage.
At the steps that lead up to the platform, I hesitate. The words of Joyce and Helen are still whispering to me. But, day by day, they seem to echo from a place farther and farther away. They’re not of this world. They don’t know this Katria. A Katria who is bold and plays music for and with fae. I dash up the stairs, jumping the last two steps.
The music catches me and my hands are moving before my feet touch the rumbling boards of the platform. I fall into step with the other musicians as we move and sway, serenading the crowd. There are no words to this song, no familiar melody. Yet the sound is so sweet that I could cry. I twirl with a laugh as my fingers speed over the strings; my heart races in an effort to catch up.
The musicians play around me. I recognize them from the Screaming Goat and we all share conspiratorial smiles. The man who seems to be leading the troupe gives me a nod of approval, raven hair falling over shimmering t
attoos inked over his brow.
My turn about the stage reaches an abrupt stop as I lock eyes with Davien. He’s right in the front, Raph propped on his shoulders. Both are looking at me, but I only have eyes for Davien the man. He’s procured a crown, and even though it’s identical to all the other men’s… it’s different on his brow. He’s their prince, hidden in plain sight among them. That crown—the real one—was made for him. The sight of it reminds me of how precious little time I have left with him.
Hear me, a new voice within says, spurred by how fleeting this world is. Hear my song, this one is for you and only you. Hear it now, because I may never have the courage to play it again. I don’t know whose heart is beating in my chest. But it’s stronger than the one I’ve known my whole life, surer. It has wants and needs all its own and seems to assure me with every feverish beat that it will not be denied.
I will not be denied.
Davien’s lips part slightly. His brow softens. His cheeks pull up into a relaxed smile, more sincere and sweet than I’ve ever seen from him. It lights up his whole face brighter than the fae magic glittering overhead with the flaps of dragonfly and dove-feathered wings.
I play until the song has ended—far longer than I expected. In the lull I sneak off the platform. It’s darker on the ground. I didn’t realize how deep night had fallen underneath the glowing bell-flowers that magically illuminated the performers.
“You were amazing!” Raph claps his hands as Davien puts him down. The two have made their way to me. “Thanks for letting me hear.”
“Of course.”
“You were amazing,” Davien echoes in a whole different way, one that makes my heart skip a beat.
“But, uh, miss, I’m gonna need it back now.” Raph taps the bottom of the lute. “Y’see, I kinda borrowed it. You didn’t really say you had to keep it. And… Sorry.”
His words become weaker, softer, no doubt because he sees my expression. I can’t conceal my longing and regret. I curl and uncurl my fingers around the instrument, convincing myself that I can let it go. It was fun while it lasted, just like this whole world.
“No,” Davien says. “Raph, you tell whoever it is that I will personally see they have a new instrument.”
“Huh? Really? You can do that?”
“I can.”
“It’s all right.” I hand the lute back to Raph. I don’t know the history of this lute. It might be as sentimental to someone else as my mother’s lute is to me. A fine instrument like this is meant to be passed down, between family, between friends. “It was worth it just to play. Thank you.”
Raph takes the instrument and scurries away. It’s wrenching to see it go. But I already have a lute back in the human world. One far finer and far more meaningful than any I could ever find here.
“I suppose it’s for the best.” Davien encroaches on my space. One hand lands on my hip, gliding around to the small of my back. The other laces fingers with mine. “If you were holding a lute, I couldn’t dance with you.”
“I’m not much of a dancer.”
He tilts his head back, narrowing his eyes skeptically. “I think you are.”
“You think wrong.”
Davien leans in, placing his lips on the shell of my ear. “I’ve spent months watching how your body moves.” His hand presses lower, gripping my flesh. “You have music in you, and the grace of a dancer.”
“I don’t—” I don’t get to object. He sweeps me off my feet, drawing forth a soft yelp of surprise. His toes crunch under my heel. “I told you I’m not a good dancer.”
“Stop worrying so much. Just move, Katria. Move with me.”
His voice, that tone…as sumptuous and slow as a bow drawn across the lowest note on a fiddle. The demand resonates within me like the tumbling of the feet in the square. I press my hips against his. Every shift of his weight moves his thighs against mine. I follow on instinct, not worrying about the fool I must look because—when my eyes meet his—there’s only him.
My chest against his. His arm encircling my waist. His tunic, cut low, reveals the firm plane of chest I saw in the moonlight back in the woods. His crown a shimmering reminder of just how forbidden he should be to my very human hands. I’m breathless and not just from the dance. I gasp, barely holding back from begging for more—I want everything I’ve always denied myself.
I want to dare. I want to dance. I want to be someone I have never been even if it’s only for one night.
The music stops and cheers erupt. People clear the square as the musicians take a break. But Davien’s eyes are only on me, breaths heavy.
“You need to come with me.”
“Anywhere,” I pant softly.
Everything is left behind as Davien pulls me into the main hall of Dreamsong. There are a few people milling about. The celebration has spilled across the city, painting it with song and joy in the colors of autumn and winter grays. He leads me upstairs and all the way to the door at the end of the hall.
It’s his room.
The four-poster bed is boxy, simple, not the ornate furniture I’d expect of a king. It’s made of a dark wood, the grains catching the moonlight like currents in a river. Navy, velvet curtains reveal more pillows than I’d expect. He has an armoire, desk, and sitting area that opens to a small balcony overlooking all of Dreamsong.
Davien guides me to the chair positioned before the opening. He sits next to me, our thighs touching. His hand still lingers on mine.
“Sing for me again,” he whispers.
“What do you want to hear?” I breathe. I couldn’t sing right now if I tried. My throat is too tense. Mind blank.
“Anything.” He lifts a hand, cupping my face and dragging his thumb lazily along my lower lip. “As long as I can watch your lips.”
“I can’t think of a single song.” My cheeks are burning.
“This is why I never wanted you to look at me,” he says slowly, a smirk curling his mouth dangerously. He looks as if he intends to devour me. “Because I knew if you did you’d be stunned into silence. And I never wanted to see you quiet.”
I laugh with more conviction. I’ve never had anyone tell me they wanted to hear me before. Feeling heard and seen is more intoxicating than too much faerie mead. “I thought it was because if I looked at you, you could never let me go?”
It’s his turn to chuckle. “You remember that.”
“I remember every single night we spent together in excruciating detail.” I shift, our thighs brushing, pressing closer together.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“As do I.”
“Davien…” I search his eyes for an answer I know I can’t find without asking both him and myself. “What am I doing here? What are we doing right now?”
Davien hooks my chin, directing my face upward. He leans a bit closer. “I don’t know…but I think I like it. Do you?”
“I—I don’t want to be hurt.” Anything more than a whisper would feel like a scream now. He’s so close. A breath away. A mere quiver and my lips would be on his. A shiver tickles my spine, tempting me to test the theory.
“I would never hurt you.”
Truth. My eyes prickle. How can something be both truth and a lie at the same time? How is it possible for him to mean something completely and yet I know it’s untrue? “All of this will hurt me though.”
“All of what?”
“All these feelings. I know how this ends.” It ends with a cold house and a one-sided marriage. It ends in emotional warfare with words sharper than any steel.
“Then let’s not worry about them,” he suggests casually.
That is everything I hoped for. “Can it really be so simple?”
“I told myself when I married you that I could never love a human.”
“There is no way I’d ever love you.” Or anyone else.
“Good, then we’re on the same page.” He keeps leaning forward and I keep leaning back. Soon I’ll be flat against the armrest and sofa
. Soon he’ll be on top of me. Heat rushes throughout my body.
“No emotions?” My eyelids are heavy. Every blink is longer than the last. His lips curve like a scythe, and I am ready for harvest.
“No love.” It sounds like a promise. “Though, if you let me, I will make you feel.”
“Feel what?” My voice quivers.
“Everything.” The word hangs as he waits for my objection. This is the point of no return I saw coming days ago. Everything about him is forbidden, everything screams of heartache. But I will not be my father’s daughter. I can indulge in these physical needs without falling in love and giving all that I am in the process.
Can’t I?
Before I have a chance to reexamine, his mouth crashes on mine.
Chapter 21
He tastes of spiced honey. His skin smells of wood shavings from our earlier work and of smoke from the fires that lit the square below. His hair tickles my face and cheeks, curtaining around us, protecting this moment from the cruel world that will collapse on us all too soon.
I brush my fingertips up his sides, running them over the expanse of his chest. The shirt he wore today is almost open to the navel. It hangs invitingly and my fingers brush against his hot flesh. A groan escapes me and he inhales sharply, as if trying to consume the pleasure his mere existence elicits in me.
Davien shifts his weight. One hand is beside my head, the other cups my cheek. He guides me with light pressure against my jaw and probing from his tongue. I’ve kissed before, once, but it was nothing like this. The butler’s boy—back when we could afford a butler—was only a year older than I and we were both little more than curious adolescents.
But Davien kisses me as a man. It’s better than every teasing dream and indulgent fantasy I could ever concoct. I knew how a man and woman fit together conceptually…but nothing could’ve prepared me for the actual feeling of it.
His tongue slides against mine and I arch upward. I can feel his lips pull as he smirks once more. My brows knit. I hate that he’s getting amusement from my pleasure. I know I’m inexperienced and he has likely had hordes of women throwing themselves at his feet.