A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic)

by Elise Kova

  As we break through the brush and stand above the smoldering remains of the brilliant city I danced in the streets of not more than three days ago, I’m proved right.

  Chapter 31

  Dreamsong is nothing more than a charred husk. I’m reminded of the smoldering embers of a fireplace, shining like angry stars, glowing with vengeful heat, sparking flames to consume whatever fuel still remains. I think I’ve left my body for a second, because I don’t realize that Giles is shaking me until the third time he calls my name. “Katria.”

  “They burned it, all of it.” All that magnificent craftsmanship, gone up in flames. Even if the fae can make things quickly with rituals, it’s still a tragedy. Then my thoughts go to the people and my mind comes to a screeching halt. I spin toward Giles and grab him by both shoulders. “The people—”

  “I know.” He knocks my hands away. The smoldering remains of the city are alight in his eyes. The city…his home. “But I don’t see very many bodies in the streets.”

  We clearly have different definitions of “very many bodies” but I say nothing.

  “Which means that our plan worked.”

  “Plan?” I repeat, still staring over the wreckage. The Natural World has known nothing but peace for centuries. Sure, on occasion, squabbles arise. But nothing major. Nothing like this.

  The fae had told me from the start of the horrors the Boltovs could wreak. But I’d failed to comprehend it. I never thought anyone capable of this level of destruction and disregard for life…even with magic at their disposal.

  “Yes, remember the tunnel?”

  My thoughts begin to coalesce again. “The tunnel…but we didn’t finish it.”

  “Vena saw it was completed when all were distracted by the autumnal celebrations. She was worried about the increasing probability of an attack ever since Davien and the magic returned.” Giles begins to head back into the forest, eyes darting around warily. “The plan was that the soldiers and guards would stay to defend the city, holding off whatever Boltov threw at us for as long as possible, while the civilians escaped to the mountain.”

  I can no longer see Dreamsong, but the sight of the streets, red with fire and blood, is seared on my mind. I think of those people, staying behind so that others might have a chance at life. The sight, the thought, will likely haunt me for years in ways that I can’t possibly comprehend now, not when my focus remains on my own survival.

  Giles heads left toward the mountains, bypassing the horse.

  “We’re leaving the stallion?”

  “It risks too much attention, and we can’t bring it under the mountain,” he says.

  “Right. How many people knew about the tunnel?” We hadn’t exactly been keeping it a secret while working on it.

  “I’m not sure. I wasn’t that high up in the ranks.”

  “But…everyone had to know, right? So they knew what to do in case of an attack?” I bite my lip, unable to shake a clammy, sickening sensation that’s wrapping my spine.

  “Unless they were informed only when the attack was happening, instructed to follow orders and nothing more.” Giles glances at me as he leads us around Dreamsong toward the mountains. I get glimpses of their frosted peaks through the dark canopy, reflecting the angry fires below. “What are you getting at?”

  “What if Allor knew?” I whisper.

  He spins in place, staring at me with wide eyes. “You don’t think…” he breathes. “But she… Shaye would have come back and warned them.”

  “I don’t know,” I say weakly. “I never saw what happened with them and she wasn’t among the Butchers who attacked Davien and me at the lake. I don’t know what happened to Shaye.”

  Without another word, Giles sprints toward the mountains. I follow behind through the dense forest. The usual motes of light that bed down on the mosses are gone, casting everything in menacing shadow. It is as if life is slowly being sucked out of the world wherever Boltov touches.

  “Giles,” I hiss as my ears pick up on the sounds of distant fighting. He keeps running. He’s going to run headfirst into what’s surely a trap. I grab his wrist, digging my heels into the soft earth. Giles turns his panicked eyes to me. “Listen.”

  His eyes only grow wider as he hears what I have been—shouting, laughter, grunting, and crying. Not the sounds of people enjoying a reprieve.

  “No,” he breathes. I watch as the hope leaves his eyes, darkening his expression further.

  “We go slow. We have to stay hidden,” I whisper.

  He nods.

  Firelight begins to glint through the trees, the dancing flames shimmering on the sheer faces of the mountain not far from where Giles, Oren, Davien and I were working on the tunnel. As we grow nearer, the voices grow clearer.

  “Your king wants you alive. So no one put up a fight,” a man sneers.

  “Of course, accidents do happen.” That’s Allor. I meet Giles’s eyes—he has the same realization as I do.

  “I’m going to kill her,” he says under his breath.

  “You’re going to have to fight me for that honor.”

  He gives a conspiratorial nod and motions for me to follow as he starts for a nearby tree. “Are you good at climbing?”

  I stare up at the tree, thinking back to the roof. No climbing, Joyce had ingrained in me. No heights. Stay close to the ground…where I belonged.

  “I’m actually really good at climbing,” I admit to myself and him. Because I still did even despite her, to repair the outer walls of the manor, or clean the molding that ran along the ceilings. Even after the fall, I never became afraid of heights. They always felt natural. Strange, how some of those skills are coming in handy when I least expect them.

  “We can get a good look from up there, I think.” Giles points to one of the far-reaching branches of the oak tree and I follow him up. Sure enough, we can see the Butchers and the survivors of Dreamsong below while being shielded by the wide branches we now lie on and the leafy bough of the oak.

  There are the remnants of a struggle on the ground—more bodies and blood. The survivors have been corralled into three different groups, each of them facing a small army of Butchers. Most of them stare at their feet or at nothing in particular with vacant, hollow eyes.

  “Are they going to take them all back to the High Court?” I whisper.

  “I can only assume so.”

  “How many examples does one king need?” My question has the edge of a growl at its end. This is too much. Boltov is going too far. And yet, based on everything I’ve been told, this all is still just the tip of the horrors that this king has brought to the fae wilds.

  “We’re going to move in groups,” the man who I presume is the lead Butcher says. “I strongly recommend that you listen to the instructions we give you, as failure to do so might resolve in further unpleasantness.”

  The Butchers pass around small tokens made of what appears to be glass.

  “What are those?” I glanced toward Giles. “More relics?”

  “No. Those are shards of the crown—summonses from the king. It’s one of the many powers of the glass crown. Any fae who receives a summons must respond within the day or they’ll die.”

  I wince. For as beautiful as this world is, it certainly has vicious undertones that I had overlooked for weeks. But now I see them. Now I see the darkness as clearly as I saw every glittering spark of magic light.

  The head Butcher walks over to a group that’s mostly obscured by the trees. “As the leader of this rebellious group, you’ll show them how to return to our king’s loving embrace.”

  “Loving.” Vena snorts. She’s alive. Relief floods through me. If Vena is alive then there’s hope. I’m not quite sure why I feel that way, perched in a tree, helpless to do anything to assist… But if anyone can concoct a way out of the situation she now finds herself in, I believe it to be Vena.

  “We have shown you mercy.” The Butcher stalks closer to her and out of my view. “It is up to you to decide if that
mercy continues, or if we exact our king’s vengeance here and now.”

  There’s a long pause. I wonder what’s going through her mind. What if she’s thinking of Davien coming in to save the day? Maybe that’s what makes her say, “I heed my king’s summons.”

  There’s a small flash of light. Some men and women in the other groups begin to weep quietly. They just watched their leader, their hope, go into the arms of the enemy. I see others bringing the tokens to their chest and repeating the same, vanishing with small sparks.

  As I’m watching the group closest to the mountain, I see a thin trickle of rocks bouncing down the boulders at the mountain’s foot. I lean to get a better view of where those rocks came from—what might have knocked them loose. I had been hoping to see a horde of Acolytes ready to rain terror down from above on the Butchers. But instead, my eyes lock with a familiar lilac pair. I see the curve of horns I recognize attached to a small face peeking out from behind one of the high-up ledges.

  Raph’s eyes widen slightly. I bring a finger to my lips. He nods and we both lean back into our hiding places.

  Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m the only one who might have seen the rocks Raph knocked loose. As the groups of survivors slowly disappear one by one, the main Butcher barks an order. “Search the area, make sure there are no stragglers.”

  “If we find any, what are your orders?” Allor asks.

  “Kill them on sight. The king has enough executions on his hands already. We can have a bit of fun.”

  The Butchers fan out with excited rumblings. Giles and I pull in our arms and legs as much as possible while still keeping our balance. I hold my breath, watching as two Butchers pass beneath us, searching. We wait for what feels like nearly an hour. An hour of tense muscles, shallow breathing, and the creeping dread that at any second I’m going to hear a shout that marks my death.

  But it never comes. And instead the next thing I hear is a new order.

  “Head back,” the man commands.

  Giles and I remain in the tree for at least ten more minutes, not moving. We stare at each other, as if we’re waiting to see who’s going to take the responsibility of being the first one to speak. I surprise myself by rising to the occasion.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” My voice is so soft that I’m sure he reads my lips more than hears my words.

  “I don’t think anywhere is safe for us anymore,” he says solemnly. “But I think all the Butchers are gone.”

  “Good. Follow me.”

  “And just where do you think you’re going?” he asks as we slowly climb down the tree.

  “I’m not sure yet.” Even though I think all the Butchers are gone, I still slink through the dark forest, clinging to trees and trying to make myself as small as possible. We come to the edge of the clearing where the Butchers caught the survivors.

  “We should give them a proper burial,” Giles says softly.

  “There’s no time.”

  “No time? All we have now is time…while we wait for them to come and kill us.” Anger creeps into his voice. I know I’m just a convenient outlet for it. He’s not actually angry at me. Yet another thing that my family prepared me for—allowing vicious tirades and wounding words to be nothing more than glancing blows that rarely meet the mark.

  “I’m not going to wait for anyone to come and kill me.” I scan the mountains, trying to figure out where Raph might have climbed from. “I spent my whole life at the whim of others, waiting to see what they’ll do to me next; I’m not waiting anymore.”

  The hiss of my name nearly startles Giles out of his skin.

  “Katria! Over here.”

  Raph stands between a boulder and the mountain, at the edge of the carnage. Giles is a step behind me and rushing over to him, dumbstruck as he lays eyes on Hol’s son. Raph’s gaze is distant. Shock has hollowed out his usually precocious demeanor. He stares up at us, blinking several times, looking for the first time like the child he very much is.

  “I thought we were the only ones who survived.” His lower lip quivers as he fights back tears. “I saw them rounding everyone else up. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Who else is with you?” Giles asks.

  “I’ll show you.” Raph leads us through nooks and crannies created by boulders and rocks removed when the tunnel was made. It’s nearly impossible for us to squeeze through in some places; no wonder the Butchers didn’t think to even try. But for Raph’s lithe, little frame, it’s no trouble at all. He saw a path where no one else did. A hideaway not even Allor would know. “When it happened, my father told me what to do. I was gonna be where he told me to. Swear. But…I was worried, you know, since not all of Dreamsong coulda been told… I went to see how Ralsha was. And well, then she had a friend, who had a friend. We were just tryin’ to look out for each other and by the time we got here, they were already…you know. I had this hiding spot and shared it.”

  The pathway enters the mountain. On the other side of the brief, naturally formed tunnel is a sheltered glade. Two dozen fae children huddle together. Some weep openly, others consoling them. Most just clutch themselves, or each other, staring blankly with eyes much like Raph’s.

  “I didn’t mean to break the rules and not go with the rest, I swear.” Raph wipes his nose with the back of his hand and shakes his head. “D’ya think my dad’ll be upset?”

  “No.” Giles breaks then and there. He falls to his knees and clutches the small boy tightly. I can only imagine that Giles has watched this child—maybe all of these children—grow up in the city that he swore to protect. The city that is still burning. “You did amazing, Raph.”

  “You really did,” I echo. “How did you manage to evade the Butchers when no one else could?”

  Raph looks up at me. “Told you already, the best guide there is. No one knows—” he gulps down a burst of emotion “—knew Dreamsong like me. No one can get into places like I can to make deliveries. Especially not those Butchers. And specially not if my ‘delivery’ is my friends.”

  I kneel down as Giles finally releases him. I place my hand on Raph’s shoulder and lock eyes with him. “Raph, what I’m about to ask you is entirely unfair. It is a burden that not even the most skilled adults could shoulder, and I’m going to ask if you’re willing to do it.”

  The spark of fire in his eyes reassures me. Underneath the shock and sadness is anger and determination. Even though his city is still smoldering, he wants revenge. We all do.

  “I have something very important I need you to deliver. And I swear, if you do this, it’s the last delivery I’m going to ever ask of you.”

  “Katria?” Giles asks worriedly, as if he can somehow sense what all of this is building up to. I wonder if he can see the plan that’s forming in my head even though I’m making it up as I go. Raph just continues to stare in determined silence.

  “I need you to deliver me into the heart of the High Court.”

  Chapter 32

  “No,” Giles says instantly.

  Yet nearly at the same time, Raph says, “I’ll do it.”

  “Raph, you cannot.” Giles turns to me, pointing his finger. “And you cannot ask this of him.”

  “Getting the powers to Davien is the best chance we have now. And Raph is clearly the most qualified person to see this through,” I say calmly.

  “You risked your life to take these powers out of Boltov’s hands. You left the last remaining member of the Aviness bloodline behind to keep this power out of Boltov’s hands.” Giles stands with purpose, grinding out the words. His fingers ball into fists; the anger I sensed earlier continues to rise in him. And now I’ve given it a reasonable excuse to be directed at me.

  Still, I remain calm. “Things were different then. When I left Davien behind, I thought there was a city that was safe to bring the power back to. I thought there was a small army ready to take on the High Court and free him. None of that is the case any longer.

  “Boltov has the last heir, and once he kills
him, the ritual preventing anyone but an Aviness from wearing the glass crown will be broken—it will be free. He will be able to wear the crown then and command its power. He has the people that would stand up against him in shackles.” Or worse. “He sits on the hill and all he needs now for his role to be cemented for hundreds of years to come is this necklace.” I touch the pendant on my throat for emphasis. “How long do you think we can keep it from him?”

  Giles eases back some.

  He’s no doubt beginning to see my logic. So I double down.

  “He’s going to throw every resource he has at hunting this necklace down. And there’s nothing you and I can do to stop him. The one chance we had to keep it from him has gone up in flames.” I take a stabilizing breath. “Except Davien. He’s our last hope. If you’re right and Boltov hasn’t killed him right away, then I can get to him with this necklace, I can finish abdicating. I can give him the power within and he can take on Boltov.”

  “You might die trying,” Giles whispers.

  I shrug, thinking I look braver than I feel. “I think I’m going to die no matter what.” I try and wear a bold smile. I’m sure it comes off a little wild. I must be for suggesting this. “Either from the withering, or because Allor knows my face. She knows there is a human who helped—who likely has the necklace. I don’t think I’ll be safe even in my world. Even if we manage to keep it from her, she’ll hunt me down.”

  “You could go far from the edge of the Fade. Folk of Midscape never go far in the Natural World. We’re not made for it. Being there breaks us down.” Giles takes my hand with both of his. “You can still go. This isn’t your fight.”

  “But it is,” I say softly. “I took an oath to protect the people of this land.”

  “What?”

  I’m back underneath the waters of the lake. All the past kings and queens watch me. I feel their eyes even now. “I swore I would keep this power safe and protect the fae, to Davien, to the Aviness family who came before.”