[Fairy Tales 10] The Twelve Dancing Princesses

by K. M. Shea

  “All emotions? Including happiness and hope?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds like it would possibly make one feel worse.”

  Emerys stared at the empty streets. “It might, but when you’re so lost to hope you only see death before you, it’s not such a bad thing. At any rate, it gets us through all the parties—though the side effect is that everyone is thrown into such a frenzy, they dance to exhaustion. So most sleep all day and rise in the evening to prepare all over again.”

  Quinn stared at a particularly giant tree that loomed over a four-story elvish home. How horrible it must be to feel such desolation here—in a place of such beauty. “Is that what everyone drank directly before the party started? Everyone except you, that is.”

  “I don’t drink it,” Emerys acknowledged. “Can’t risk having dulled senses, but yes, that’s the stuff. A few of my stronger people only take a half dose—like Alastryn.”

  He waited a few moments, then pointed his beak at a three-story home that had a curl of smoke puffing from its chimney. “The humans that follow the princesses and end up…like us are housed there.”

  “Do you have to host them?” Quinn asked “Does the curse make you?”

  “We can’t turn anyone away at the party, but we don’t have to host them, no,” Emerys said.

  Quinn nodded, and they fell silent again as the mounts picked their way through the nearly abandoned streets, making their way to the palace that guarded the back of the city.

  The closer they drew, the more gorgeous it looked. The palace was not constructed of white wood alone, but also white marble and limestone. Gold leafing covered delicately wrought gateways and arches, and small streams trickled through the gardens and around the building itself. It was smaller than the Farset royal palace, but Quinn suspected that was more because the elves would look down on an unnecessary display of wealth than because they lacked the funds for it.

  Though it’s beautiful…it’s so quiet, it feels almost like a tomb, Quinn thought as she and Din passed a moon-shaped gateway. They rode through the courtyard to the royal stables—where horses as glossy, beautiful, and strong as all the magicus mounts nickered and munched on hay. The horsey noises made Quinn sigh in relief as she slid off Din and led her into a stall before pulling the saddle and bridle off her.

  “Is it really okay for her to stay here with all your mounts?” Quinn asked.

  “Of course.” Emerys pecked at a dried chunk of apple before recovering himself and cawing in irritation. “And these aren’t my mounts, really. They belong to me, but my mounts—like Pookie—wander freely. Fluffy isn’t too far off, though, if you want to meet him.”

  Quinn watched Pookie stick his giant head into Din’s stall—the mare flicked him in the face with her tail. “I would rather select my bow.”

  Emerys scoffed. “Should have known. To the armory!” He flew outside, circling the courtyard until she joined him, then landed on her right shoulder. “Servant’s door is right there.” He nodded his head to a small wooden door fitted into a nook of the palace.

  The inside of the palace was just as white as the exterior. The architecture was so ornate and beautiful with the vaulted windows and intricate wood paneling, it did not need much ornamentation. However, it seemed like plants and trees intermingled with the palace—and perhaps even grew inside the walls. Occasionally half of a live cherry tree—in full bloom despite the late autumn weather—broke through the wall and shed petals on the limestone floor. Other times, curling vines would loop around windows, and when they entered a large central chamber, a huge weeping willow with a small pond squatted at the center of it.

  “Do you live here by yourself?” Quinn asked as she climbed the main staircase—as Emerys directed her to.

  “Yes,” Emerys said. “Usually it’s not so quiet—if I had fewer than a dozen people trying to boss me at once, it was a slow day, and there were always advisors, servants, and guests visiting. But with some of our people gone—” He couldn’t say anymore.

  “Gone?” Quinn asked.

  Emerys nodded.

  Quinn frowned. The party seemed rather full…and what does he mean, gone? I’ll have to watch more closely tonight.

  “Through those doors,” Emerys directed.

  Quinn followed the order and pushed open one of the double doors, curiously poking her head through.

  The royal armory—as Emerys had called it—seemed to be more of a cross of an armory, a gallery, and a library.

  Weapons were bolted to the walls with horse-sized paintings posted next to them of elves from days past using the weapons and golden plaques beneath them. The room was lined with waist-high bookshelves that were filled with the occasional odd item—like a hunting horn, a bridle, or an archer’s guard—and scrolls and books.

  “What is this place?” Quinn asked, her voice was hushed and her footsteps quiet in the near silence of the room.

  “The royal armory—because why throw things away when we can keep them forever?” Emerys asked wryly. He jumped off Quinn’s shoulder and flew to a wooden armchair that had a padded back longer than Quinn was tall. “Many of the weapons here belong to heroes from our past. So that the great deeds they achieved aren’t forgotten, they are recorded and inscribed here for safekeeping.” Emerys unfolded and refolded his wings. “Now…which bow do you want?”

  Quinn felt her eyes bulge. “You mean you want me to have one of these bows? From your legends?” She waved her hand at the life-like paintings for emphasis.

  “Yes.” Emerys casually flicked his tail feathers.

  Quinn shook her head. “But you can’t do that!”

  “I am king,” Emerys not-so-humbly pointed out.

  “Alastryn will wring your bird neck if she finds out you’ve given away something so cherished!”

  “Just choose a weapon.”

  “But this can’t be—”

  “Quinn,” Emerys said, drawing her gaze to him. “Choose the bow you want.”

  Quinn swallowed, then slowly turned in a circle, her eyes raking over the glittering swords, gleaming bows, and shining daggers.

  There were bows encrusted with jewels, long bows with vines carved into them with such precision it almost looked real, and arrows fletched with iridescent blue feathers. Some bows were leafed in gold; others were covered by what appeared to be elvish script, and a few were fashioned to look like roaring dragons.

  At the far end of the room was a silver suit of armor accented with pale blue and midnight blue, a large sword with a midnight blue hilt and a diamond that shimmered like the moon, and a medium-sized bow. Though the armor and weapons were beautiful, they did not possess a painting or golden plaque to explain their significance.

  Quinn eagerly trotted up to the armor and cautiously lifted the bow from the wall. A few small dark blue and pale blue gems glittered, encrusted into the wood so it matched the armor set. But the gems weren’t big enough to catch sunlight in the woods, making it ideal for camouflage. It was a good length for her—she was strong enough to pull the bowstring back—and as she held it in her left hand, testing its balance, it felt right.

  “This one!” Quinn announced with a smile.

  Emerys flapped his wings again. “That one? Are you sure? There are many better bows. If you’re looking for something more covert, there are several other unadorned bows.”

  “No, it’s this one.” Quinn’s smile grew as she held it up. “It’s the perfect fit.”

  Emerys hopped off his chair and glided over to Quinn. He landed on her shoulder, waddled closer, then rubbed his head against her temple.

  “You approve?” Quinn asked, amused.

  Emerys glided his beak through her hair. “Yes.”

  “That tickles.”

  Emerys abruptly launched off her shoulder. “Let’s be off, then. I’ll try to point out buildings of significance, but I would like to walk our borders today to see how close the goblins are—there will be no fighting, though! If
you open up your shoulder wound, I’ll peck your ears.”

  “Your sweetly phrased concern is touching.” Quinn smiled down at her new bow and followed Emerys from the room without giving another thought to the origin of her weapon.

  * * *

  Quinn pursed her lips as she trailed the princesses, once again sharing the invisibility cloak with Roy.

  “Eva—you clumsy thing—be more careful! You nearly tripped me,” Carrill hissed.

  “So what if she had?” Princess Diana—usually carefree—puffed up on behalf of her younger sister.

  Carrill stuck her nose up in the air. “If my dress had gotten at all mussed, I would see that she regretted it.”

  “Of course,” Flippa said as she darted ahead of her older sisters. “You want to look your best for the elves!”

  “Flippa,” Alena called as they passed through the bower of the silver, gold, and diamond trees—not even sparing a glance at them. “Don’t be saucy. It is perfectly natural Carrill wishes to look her best for our important allies.”

  It was Brittany, surprisingly, who applied a rather adept repartee. “You only say that because you—and Carrill and Cassya—are doltish enough to believe you can attract an elf and goad him into marrying you. Save yourself the trouble; it won’t happen.”

  “Brittany!” Alena gasped. “You are being rude, and your behavior is reprehensible!”

  Brittany stopped and turned to face the oldest princess. “Your behavior is reprehensible. How can you let them carry on—how can you carry on with them—when such silliness is what got us into this!” She turned on her heels and charged ahead, not waiting for a response.

  Flippa clapped openly, and Gianna and Gisetta were only a moment behind her.

  Quinn hung back, waiting for the princesses to go ahead. “What do you think she meant by that?”

  “I don’t know,” Roy said. “But she was very disrespectful to her sister.”

  Quinn glanced ahead to ascertain the princesses were all out of sight, then whipped off the cloak. “What do you mean?”

  “Alena is the future Queen of Farset,” Roy said. “Naturally her sisters should respect her more.”

  “She just defended Carrill after she threatened Eva,” Quinn said.

  Roy shrugged. “Perhaps Princess Eva should have been more careful.”

  Quinn stared at Roy, feeling as though she were seeing him for the first time. This? This is the man I thought I loved? He can’t always have been this pigheaded…or was I just blind to it?

  Guy strolled out from the shadows of the tree. “Let me guess. You’re aiming for Princess Alena, then?”

  Roy straightened his grubby gardener’s shirt. “She is the kindest and most thoughtful.”

  “Lies,” Leigh snorted as she hopped out of a tree. “You’re just tempted by the shiny title of king, aren’t you?”

  “We need to keep moving,” Kenneth said—nearly invisible as he stood in the gloom beyond the glowing trees.

  “Yes, sir,” Band Gallant murmured.

  They started to troop down the path with Quinn folding up the cloak—intending to hold it over her head when they forged the river. She glanced over her shoulder to see Roy, breaking off a twig from the gold tree. “What are you doing? We have no more need of proof,” she called.

  Roy flushed and shoved the twig into a pocket of his trousers. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  By the time they reached the riverbank, the younger princesses were already in their gondolas—as they planned. (There was no way for all of Band Gallant to sneak on boats, particularly given that they only had one cloak, so it had been decided they would forge the icy and cold river together. Thankfully, the meadow where the celebration was held was warm despite the cold autumn air.)

  Quinn was surprised, however, to see that there was an extra gondola on the shore. And this one was manned by none other than Alastryn.

  “Lady Alastryn!” Cassya giggled as she and Alena curtsied. “We are so honored that you came to greet us.”

  Lady Alastryn had a smile so becoming and so large, Quinn rather feared she would crack her teeth. “Of course. We elves care very much about our hospitality to all guests—whether they are wanted or not.”

  Cassya giggled, but Alena must have caught the dig for she frowned.

  “Now be off with you,” Alastryn continued. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves.”

  Even after the last princess climbed into her gondola and the gondoliers set off, Alastryn waited on the shore.

  It was only when the princesses disembarked on the opposite side that she spoke. “Good eve to you, Elf-Friend Quinn. Would you care for a ride across the river?”

  Quinn left the shadows of the forest and started across the shore. “Alastryn, I am so happy to see you!” She said as her band mates slowly filed after her.

  “I must confess this was not my idea but Emerys’. He was concerned the cold might hinder your recovery from your shoulder injury.”

  “Shoulder injury?” Roy asked.

  “When I was attacked by the goblins and wraith,” Quinn clarified.

  “When you what?” He suddenly stood straighter, and a frown passed over his lips. “When did that happen?”

  “It was in her report from yesterday, wasn’t it?” Leigh asked.

  “Alastryn, might I introduce you to the rest of my team—Band Gallant. We are led by Kenneth, this is Roy, Leigh, and Guy.”

  Leigh, Kenneth, and Roy bowed, but Guy squinted at the noble elf. “Why are you being so nice? Isn’t she one of the—cripes, you’re an elf!” Guy threw himself into a bow even deeper than Kenneth’s.

  “I haven’t much time, so if you would all get in the gondola,” Alastryn said.

  Kenneth bowed slightly once more. “We thank you for your thoughtfulness, My Lady. Please allow us to handle pushing off.” He made several motions, and Leigh and Quinn hopped in and made it all the way to the prow of the boat, nearly hanging over the edge. Guy hopped up to the oar and oarlock, while Kenneth and Roy grunted and pushed the boat off the shore, barely rocking the gondola when they both hopped on at the same time.

  “This is the famed kinship found in Farset army units, is it not?” Alastryn asked as she gracefully sat on a bench.

  “It is to be hoped so, Lady Alastryn,” Leigh said.

  “The band comes before all else,” Kenneth rumbled.

  “Aye,” Quinn echoed with the others.

  When they reached the opposite side of the river, Leigh and Quinn leaped out and dragged the boat onshore. Band Gallant piled out of the gondola with Alastryn right behind them.

  “Thank you, Alastryn,” Quinn whispered.

  “My pleasure. You all be careful. It would be disastrous if…” Alastryn trailed off, unable to continue.

  If we were pulled into the curse, Quinn mentally finished for her. She’s right. We need to remain on guard.

  “Yes, Lady Alastryn,” Kenneth said. He added a bow, then turned to the team. “Quinn, Roy, you should move in closer with the cloak. Leigh, Guy, spread out but stay in the treeline. Watch for the curse to drag you in—Roy and Quinn remarked it was worst at the start of the event.”

  “Yessir!” Quinn saluted him with the others, then unfolded the cloak. She and Roy stood side by side as the cloak unfurled, and she curled it around them.

  They walked in perfect synchronization as they made their way around the edge of the party.

  Quinn’s gaze strayed to the raised pavilion. Emerys was already there, sitting on his wooden throne. She could tell very little about his elf form, as he wore a white mask that encased his entire face and rather loose robes. But given the style of his hair—while the other elves all had their hair twisted into braids, his was haphazardly gathered in a ponytail with spiky bits of it pointing everywhere—he most likely was just a little older than Quinn. In elf years, anyway. I’m not certain how fast they age due to their near immortality…

  “Do you feel the curse—or whatever it is that draws us in—yet?�
� Roy asked, knocking her from her thoughts.

  “A bit,” Quinn admitted quietly as she shifted her gaze to watch Princess Brittany and Princess Diana eat a few tea cakes. Beyond them, Princess Alena was attempting to converse with a rather bored-looking male elf who was pouring the ètonse philtre into crystal glasses.

  The pull to grab a few snacks before making her way up to Emerys was rather strong, but it was different in that she could feel the pull instead of it taking her unaware. “You?”

  Roy shook his head. “I can’t tell. But it affected me more last time than you, so it might catch me off-guard again.”

  “I’ll stop you,” Quinn promised.

  “Thanks,” Roy said, and Quinn could hear the smile in his voice.

  They were silent for a few moments and watched another elf—not Alastryn—open the celebration and toss back the philtre.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Roy asked awkwardly when the music grew louder and the elves began to laugh and dance.

  “Well enough, surprisingly. Alastryn—the elf who was waiting for us in the gondola—patched me up after the attack. The elves certainly have far more powerful medicines at their disposal than your average army medic,” Quinn said.

  Roy laughed, but that awkward strain in his voice was still there. “I imagine so.”

  Once again they lapsed into silence.

  “I can see Guy, being an idiot,” Quinn said, staring at their band mate from across the clearing. (He was crouching in front of one of the white unicorns, barely visible given the shadows they stood amongst, but clearly hand-feeding it clover.) “Any sight of Leigh or Kenneth?”

  “I bet Leigh will climb a gazebo when she gets the chance,” Roy said. “She’s got a thing for heights.”

  “Probably.” Quinn sighed then rolled her shoulders back. “We should get closer to see if we can overhear anything. Will you be alright?”

  “Will you have my back?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then we have nothing to fear.”

  Quinn smiled, and together they glided towards the edges of the glittering party.

  “There’s Reeves,” Roy said. “Over by Princess Gianna and Gisetta. Should we listen in?”