A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic)

by Elise Kova

  “Good morning.” His voice is husky from the night.

  “Morning.” I break away while I can and swing my legs off the bed. “I’m going to check on the horses, make sure they’re good for the day.”

  “You’re so dutiful. Thank you.” Giles smiles.

  “It’s no problem.” I make my escape as fast as I did last night. I can’t look at Davien when he’s only half-dressed.

  The forest is quiet. The motes of light that are usually fluttering about during the day are still bedded down. They drift upward with each step I take, some still hovering in the air, others returning to the mossy ground for what I presume is a few more hours of sleep.

  I check the horses’ saddles and fetch them some fresh water. There’s a hard day’s ride again today. They should get hydrated while they can.

  “I think I’m going to get a whole bunch of you when I go back to the human world,” I say to my mount, giving her a pat on the nose while Davien’s stallion drinks. “You’re much simpler than people, or fae.”

  “But are they better conversation?”

  The familiar voice has me frozen. I slowly turn to face the speaker. Sure enough, Allor is standing mere steps away from me, her shadowed form cut against the mist of morning.

  “Depends on who I’m speaking to.” The curtness of my tone does little to hide my discomfort at her presence.

  A smug, cat-like grin spreads across her mouth, as if my displeasure is supremely satisfying. “I hope you enjoy speaking to me. I bring good tidings.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m here to let you know that the king is collecting his forces for the attack on Dreamsong.”

  “And how is that good?”

  “His focus is on Dreamsong and not on you.” She sighs dramatically. “I really didn’t think I’d have to spell this out.”

  Oh, she doesn’t. I’ve already picked up on what she’s trying to say. If King Boltov is drawing all his forces for an attack on Dreamsong, then what I think she wants me to assume is that he doesn’t have people who would come after us. But why wouldn’t she say as much outright if it were true?

  “Do you think he will come and attack us?” I try and phrase my question as carefully as possible.

  “I can’t presume to know what the king will do.”

  “Guess.”

  Allor tips her head to the side slightly. It’s a subtle quirk, one most might miss. I read it as annoyance.

  “I’m just trying to figure out how much danger we might be in.” I lay my ruse on thick, trying to look as worried as I’m able to muster.

  “The king’s focus is still on Dreamsong.”

  She’s not answering. I’m on the cusp of all of my suspicions about her being justified. I can feel it. “Has he given any orders for others to pursue us?”

  “I don’t know everything he says or does.”

  “Does he have reason to suspect us?” I set down the bucket.

  “I don’t know the inner workings of his mind, either.” Her hands ball into fists and then relax, as if she’s forcing herself to remain calm.

  “Will we be attacked when we leave these borders?”

  “The world is a dangerous place.”

  “Why won’t you answer me directly?” I demand, voice raising slightly. I don’t give her a chance to reply. I go right for the proverbial throat with my questioning. “Yes or no—will the king send people to attack us once we leave the safety of the borders of the Acolytes of the Wild Wood?”

  “I don’t owe you any answers.” Allor has gone quiet, her voice a deadly hush.

  “No, you don’t. But even if you did, you couldn’t give them to me…because you can’t lie and you won’t tell the truth.”

  She smiles, her lips splitting to show her teeth. They’re like Giles’s—a little too sharp. “You don’t trust me, do you, little human?”

  “I don’t think I have many good reasons to trust you. I don’t think anyone should trust you.”

  “Careful about making threats you can’t back up.” Her eyes flash. Power seems to shimmer off of her shoulders, collecting around the shadowy cowl she wears.

  This is the moment I would back off. If Allor was Joyce, I would cower. I would give up here and now because I had no power, no strength. Instead, I boldly take a step forward.

  “I have the power of the kings of Aviness in me.” I take another step. “I have power Boltov would—has killed thousands for.” Another step, and another. Soon enough we’re mere inches apart and my blood is boiling. There’s a swell rolling. A tide that’s about to crash down on both of us. “You wouldn’t be the first fae who tried to end me. You might not be the last I kill for it, either.”

  “Do you think you can kill me?” Allor straightens slightly to look down at me. I gather my height as well. She tilts her head back and points at the vein bulging in her neck. “If you do, I’d recommend you strike here. Go right for the throat. Don’t give me a chance to fight back. Because if you do…that’ll be your last mistake.”

  “How dare—” I’m cut off by Davien emerging.

  “Allor? What’re you doing here?”

  “I came to wish you luck on your passage today.” Allor eases away from me with a smile. “All other messages I’ve left with Katria. I really should be going now.” She jumps back into one of the long shadows cast by the trees and vanishes like smoke on the breeze.

  “What was that about?” I didn’t even hear Davien approach, but he’s at my side. His hand is suddenly on the small of my back. I jump at the touch. “Katria? What’s wrong?”

  A lot. But I focus on the most important. “We should go back to Dreamsong.”

  A scowl crosses his lips. “You know we can’t.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this.” I grab Davien’s shirt, ignoring how natural it feels to reach for him. My voice falls to a whisper. Allor could be anywhere. For all I know, she could have magic that allows her to listen to us from afar. Nowhere but Dreamsong feels safe and she can get to us even there. “We need to go back, circle the wagons, and stand together against Boltov. I’m certain that we can figure out a ritual there with a little more time.” A ritual that Allor has no hand in.

  “We have to keep going.” He grabs my hands. “The sooner the magic is transferred from you to me, the sooner I’ll be able to effectively use it to protect everyone.”

  “Don’t you see? She’s sending us away, beyond the wards, dividing us from the pack. I don’t trust her.” My grip tightens. “She’s playing a game with us and she’s going to win if we don’t stay one step ahead.”

  “That’s just the way Allor is. She has that air about her.”

  “Then she’s ‘just’ someone we shouldn’t be working with.”

  “We don’t have a choice in that.” He frowns. “I know you haven’t liked her from the start but—”

  “I think we’re going to be attacked,” I blurt.

  “Why do you say that?” His eyes search mine, as if he’s looking for a reason to believe me, as though he wants to…but wanting doesn’t seem like it’s enough and I feel my ribs crumble in on my heart at the realization.

  “She couldn’t give me a straight answer to my questions.”

  Davien chuckles. “That’s just fae mannerisms.”

  “No.” I hold him as he tries to step away, jerking him back toward me. “You weren’t here to hear what I was asking. How I was asking.” I wonder if Allor left without saying very much to Davien to sow this very doubt that’s taking root. “I think she’s a double agent and I think we’re going to walk right where they want us. I asked her if the king was going to attack us—yes or no—and she wouldn’t answer.”

  “That’s Allor.”

  “Stop making excuses for her.” My grip finally goes slack. I search his face, desperate for him to believe me. “Davien, who do you believe more? Her or me?”

  He inhales but no words come. I stare up at him, expectant. I wait until I ache, until his silence
is a weight that wounds me with slow, crushing force. He said he loved me, but he won’t believe me. So what good is love? This is just further proof of what I’ve always known—love is good for nothing.

  “I need the magic. Everything can be put right once I have it,” he says, finally. “That is what Vena and all of Dreamsong wish for.”

  “And I want to give it to you but—”

  “No buts. If you are truly on my side then you will help me. Now what did she say?”

  “Just that the king’s focus is on Dreamsong.” I open my mouth to continue speaking but he ignores it, stepping away.

  “We ride within the hour.”

  My hands ball into fists and that same feeling of magic overtaking my better sense returns. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Davien will never forgive me if I turn his magic on him.

  One last attempt. “Davien, can we at least wait until tomorrow? Delay a little? Maybe by changing our schedule we can throw them off.”

  “There is nothing to throw off because there is no attack coming on us. Though we have all the more reasons to hurry.”

  “But—”

  “I need my magic to protect Dreamsong and the more we delay the greater the risk. I have spoken on this and I am your king.” His voice raises at the end to a near shout. Davien points at the ground, as though he is trying to stake the very earth as his own.

  “No…” I shake my head. “You are not my king. You are the Fae King. And I am clearly nothing but a lowly human vessel housing your magic. So fine, we ride, Your Majesty. But if there is blood today then know it is on your hands.”

  I turn back to the horses and ignore him as he storms back into the safe house.

  The border of the Acolyte’s territory on the north is nothing more than a break in the trees. As the sun hits my shoulders, the same crawling feeling as the last time I crossed through the great barriers that surrounded the forests of Dreamsong inches up my back, causing shivers. On the other side, I am exposed and more alert than ever.

  But there is just more forest ahead of us, at least until we reach a glassy lake. The trees on the other side are sparse, with moss hanging off their skeletal arms. The ground looks lower, wetter. More like a marsh than the firm earth we’ve been riding on for the past day and a half.

  However, what is most notable is the wall of swirling fog that obscures even the sun. It’s impossible to see more than one tree deep. Anything could hide in that milky mist.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Davien says softly.

  “The fog of histories, fog of kings, the rite of passage kings of lore traversed to be blessed in the ancient waters of the Lake of Anointing,” Giles says as if reading from a storybook.

  “So this isn’t the Lake of Anointing?” I whisper to Giles. He shakes his head.

  “I find rumors of haunted places to be greatly exaggerated.” Shaye nudges her horse, guiding it around the lake. We three share a look and follow behind her. “Usually, it’s just places someone wants to keep others from and doesn’t know how to do it better than some silly story.”

  “It’s not a silly story.” Giles catches up to her. “Why do you think King Boltov never came to anoint himself?”

  “Because he anointed himself in the blood of his enemies and didn’t need a lake to validate his claim to the throne after that?” Shaye’s words are dry and peppered with bitterness. I swallow thickly at the thought. My eyes are already scanning the mists for Allor. She could be anywhere in that murk. And she is just as bloodthirsty as the king I know she serves most faithfully.

  “Because he knew that the fog would refuse to let him pass since he wasn’t a legitimate heir of Aviness. He would be lost forever.”

  “We will have no such trouble,” Davien proclaims.

  “I hope we have no trouble at all,” I say under my breath. None of them hear me. My mare whinnies and shakes her head. I pat her neck and give a soft shushing noise. “We might find it to be slow going through here.”

  “They’ll calm once we get in the fog,” Davien says confidently.

  “I doubt that, unless horses are different in your world than mine.”

  “We don’t have time to coddle them.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting to coddle them,” I mutter. There’s something about this place that has me on edge too.

  “We’ll ride nose to tail so we keep visibility,” Shaye suggests.

  “And hopefully we don’t encounter anything in the fog that would separate us.” I see Giles’s throat tighten as he swallows nervously. I wonder just what he thinks lies in wait for us on the other side of this magic mist.

  “Just in case, take these.” Shaye hands out compasses to each of us. “As long as you keep heading north, you’ll either intersect with the old road that heads toward the Aviness keep by the lake, or the lake itself. Should we get separated in the fog, we’ll meet there as soon as we’re able.”

  I’m familiar with compasses; as the daughter of a trader lord I’ve seen many. But this is unlike any compass my father ever owned. Instead of the spinning needle underneath a panel of glass, the compass is completely flat and made of wedges of crystal fused together by magic. The normal indicators of North, South, East, and West have been etched into the stone. The direction and facing is indicated by one of the wedges illuminating a ghostly green color. As I turn in my saddle, wedges fade and illuminate depending on where I’m facing.

  “Are the cardinal directions the same in Midscape as they are in the natural world?” I know this isn’t the time or place for a lesson on Midscape’s geography, but I’m too curious not to ask.

  “As far as we can tell,” Giles answers. “Which, make sense, given that the Natural World and Midscape were once one.” He looks to Shaye. “How do we know these will work in the fog? Isn’t it supposed to confound anyone not of Aviness blood?”

  “There’s one way to find out.” Davien starts ahead. For once, I can’t read him. I don’t know if the fog is playing tricks with him, putting him on edge just like the rest of us—or if he’s merely eager to get to the lake, that way he can get the magic from me and we can be done with this whole affair.

  “I’ll lead,” Shaye declares, riding in front of him.

  “Shouldn’t I?” Davien sits a little taller in his saddle.

  “My king, if they’re going to attack, I would rather they attack me first. That way I can buy you time to escape if need be.” It gives me some relief to think Shaye is planning for the possibility of an attack. “You’ll be after me, then Katria, and Giles will take up the rear.”

  “Very well. If it is what the head of my future armies thinks is most strategic, then I will listen to you.” Davien falls into place behind Shaye.

  At least he listens to someone, I think bitterly as I get my horse behind Davien, Giles taking up the rear, just as Shaye instructed. There’s a single moment of quiet hesitation. There’s no wind, no birds chirping, or crickets singing. Everything is still, with the exception of my thunderously beating heart. It’s so quiet I’m surprised they can’t all hear it.

  “Here we go,” Shaye says softly. The silence breaking sounds like a scream. She moves forward.

  Her horse struggles the second she tries to enter the fog. It shakes its head and stomps. Shaye forces it to carry on. It looks as though the beast is trudging through deep water, or sand, or tar. It’s obliging her, but every step is more difficult than the last.

  Davien begins to have trouble as well, but it goes away as he crosses the wall of fog. The mist parts for him, curling like ghostly tentacles around him. I’m close enough that I can trail in his aura. Giles only seems to get the tail end of it, and his horse struggles too.

  “Further proof that the real reason why Boltov never tried to take, or dismantle, the keep at the Lake of Anointing was because there’s no way he would be able to get an army through this fog. What’s the point of protecting something no one can get to?” Giles says. Even though he’s right behind me, his voi
ce is distant and muffled. Space is stretched around us. What was once a condensed forest is now uncomfortable expanses of nothing. The ground beneath the horses’ hooves is muddy and rocky. Very little grows here.

  “I suspect you’re right.” Davien appraises how the fog is parting for him.

  “Let’s hope it’s not parting so you can embark on one of the horrible trials of lore,” Giles says.

  “I told you not to worry about those tales.” Shaye’s tone betrays an eye roll. “I assure you that they were just invented to keep people away.” Even though she says that, it’s clear there’s magic in the air here. Even I can feel it.

  It’s as if a thousand invisible hands are running over my shoulders and arms. I can almost see my clothes being pushed by forces I cannot comprehend. The air remains perfectly still, so I know it is not some rogue breeze that’s rippling the fabric.

  “How do you explain the mist parting for our king then?” Giles asks.

  “It’s likely a barrier, yes. But haunted ghosts keeping the Lake of Anointing safe? I doubt it.” Shaye’s steely bravery is unyielding. I wonder what would frighten the woman. I don’t think I ever want to meet it. “However, if you’re scared, you can certainly turn back,” she taunts.

  Davien snorts. “We shouldn’t separate.”

  “There’s no way either of us would really abandon you, Your Majesty. Isn’t that right, Giles?” Shaye twists in her saddle, looking back. I can see her face clearly as her expression goes from mischievous teasing, to wide-eyed shock, to panicked horror. “Giles?” she repeats with a whisper.

  I look behind me. It’s only mist.

  Giles is nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 25

  “Giles?” I call out.

  “Shh,” Shaye hisses. “Don’t make any noise.”

  “But—”

  “Ride next to Davien,” she commands, leaving no room for questioning. I do as I’m told.

  “Shouldn’t we look for him?” I whisper.