by Bec McMaster
Thalia slides her fingers through mine, and I relish every inch of heat within her.
“As the days turn, we celebrate the end of harvest and the beginning of the long chill,” Lucidia of Ravenal calls as she slowly pushes to her feet and moves toward the torch that awaits her.
Tonight the Veil begins to thin between worlds, and will not strengthen until the third night. Pocket realms may open. Strange creatures sometimes slip between worlds. In the ancient days, before the fae locked the Old Ones in their prison worlds, they hunted nights like this.
“As the Veil thins,” calls Maren of Aska, lifting her torch, “we light the fires to protect against the night. We bring praise for the light. We ask for protection from Blessed Maia.”
“As the night falls,” Adaia says as she steps forward, fire spinning to life in her hands, her skin brightening as if she’s shaken off my shadows, “we three queens offer our protection against all of those who hold wicked and sinister thoughts in their hearts. We three queens offer protection, light and strength. Blessed be.”
“Blessed be,” echo Lucidia and Maren.
The other two set their torches to their bonfires, but Adaia waves her hand and flames shoot up in the dry kindling, consuming it like a blazing inferno.
Power. Light. Protection.
It makes for a flamboyant show and she’s reveling in this moment.
I exchange a glance with Prince Kyrian of Stormlight from across the clearing. He offers me a faint smile and an arched brow. Adaia couldn’t have been blunter if she’d tried—in her mind, both Kyrian and I are an abomination, an unnatural blight on the Seelie world.
Queens rule.
The line of power is passed through the matrilineal line.
And if she had her way, she would crush us back into the swamps she suggests we both come from.
We three queens.
Indeed.
Cheers erupt through the gathered fae as the bonfires roar. Music strikes up; a merry jig. And then a host of the fae are being swept onto the grassy plain before the fires.
It’s like a discordant note against my soul. I’m still cold. Still distant.
I need to get moving to force the blood through my starved veins.
“Where are you going?” Thalia asks as she darts in my path. “Don’t you dare simply vanish. We’re supposed to be waiting for the princess of Ravenal.”
“I need a moment.”
“Just dance with Princess Lucere, Thiago. Once.” Thalia’s eyes promise murder if I ruin her plans. “Talk to her. That’s all we’ve promised. You may like her.”
This was the price I promised to pay all those years ago when I took the throne. Anything for my people. Anything for my mother’s kingdom.
Anything for those who serve me.
“Thalia.” Just give me a fucking moment.
Her face brightens into a wide smile. “Here they come. Paste a smile on your face. Picture Adaia sipping on shepherd’s rot, if that helps. Be smooth. Be charming.” She gives me a look. “I know you have it in you.”
Too late to make an escape. I square my shoulders. So be it. Let’s get this over with.
But my steps are slow, my heart like lead in my chest, as I start toward the Ravenal delegation with Thalia on my arm.
They see me coming.
A young woman straightens abruptly as if she sucks in a sharp breath. She wears white from head-to-toe, and her long, raven hair is bound into a glossy mound atop her head. Not a single strand of it dares hang loose.
Regal. Beautiful. Daring.
Princess Lucere.
I swallow the hard lump in my throat and force a smile to my lips. “She looks like an ice princess.”
“She’s… reserved,” Thalia admits.
“And how are you all going to get along with her?” There’s a camaraderie within my court that feels like home. To throw this walking icicle into their midst will dash away those careless smiles, and teasing tones.
It’s my one respite.
The one place I can simply be.
“If you can manage, we can manage. Now, is that your best smile?”
I shake my head. She’s incorrigible—
And just at that moment, the dancers part and a woman appears as if she’s stepped directly from my dreams.
Her.
My breath catches in my chest and somehow I can’t move.
A woman gowned in starlight. Her skirts are of the darkest blue, with diamond chips woven through the gauze so it almost seems as if she glimmers like the night sky. A silver mask gleams with gemstones, catching the light as she tilts her face to the bonfires.
It’s not the dress that captures my attention.
It’s not the mask.
It’s not even her beauty.
It’s the shape of her mouth and chin—
The same mouth that’s been haunting my dreams for centuries.
I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
Is it a mirage?
Is it her?
Is she the promise of light that Maia sent to me so long ago?
I have to know.
“Thiago?” Thalia’s voice is distant behind me as I plunge through the dancers, searching for the woman of my dreams.
Nothing else matters.
4
Iskvien
The music takes my breath away as fae leap and dance. My mother’s celebrations are hedonistic in every way, but there’s something raw and powerful about the sound of that music. It sings a song of wild magic.
Light the bonfires against the ancient darkness.
Sing and dance until morning, when dawn lights the skies and we are finally safe.
Breathe, laugh, kiss. Joy will shield us from the Wild Hunt. Laughter will make the Erlking’s toes tap. Music will confound his hounds, and tempt the Erlking from his hunt...
There is no Wild Hunt anymore. There hasn’t been for years, with the Erlking and his cohort locked away. He used to hunt the world on nights like these, when the Veil thins, stealing away fair maidens and youths.
But the tradition remains.
I once asked Nanny what he did with those he stole and she told me the story was not for my ears.
Though a heated blush stole through her cheeks and she leaned close and whispered, “They say what he did to them ruined them. He would steal them away for a year and a day, until the Veil next thinned. They would return from his magic court, but they were never the same. They begged to return. They found no comfort in our fae foods, no pleasure in our touch. They became hollow and empty, and could only find solace in music and dancing. But what the stories don’t say is that foolish young maidens ventured out on those nights when the winds howled, desperate to be claimed as his tribute. Because the Erlking is everything powerful and wild, dangerous and tempting. Dance to distract him, Vi. He loves the dance. He loves our music. It’s the one thing that can sway his predatory instincts.”
There is no Erlking anymore but as the music sweeps me up, I can’t help feeling my heart beating in my chest like a drum.
The fae part as I slip through them. I want to look everywhere at once. I don’t recognize a single soul, and while I’m sure one of my mother’s guards is following me, I haven’t managed to mark him.
“A drink, my love?” A fae dressed as a leprechaun shoves a golden goblet into my hand and elderberry wine splashes over my wrist.
“Oh, leave her be,” says his woman, slinging an arm around his neck as she looks me up and down. “Unless you want to join us?”
There’s no doubt what she’s suggesting. The forests are woven with lanterns and there are numerous little bowers out there in the woods, decorated with berries and sheaves of wheat—for fertility. I wave them away, thanking him for the drink.
It’s at that moment that I sense someone watching me.
It’s a prickling sensation down my spine. A languid caress.
Sipping at the wine I search the clearing, but there’s only laughter and dancing. A
fae lordling draws a woman into his lap as another kisses her shoulder. A garishly painted woman swallows an entire flaming sword. Dozens of gorgeous fae maids are swung into the air as the fiddle kicks in.
The wine glides down my throat, but it doesn’t mask the sensation I’m being watched.
But who?
Night-blooming flowers suddenly burst to life in the sky.
Someone’s hired an enchanter to paint the night bright, and the crack and pop of sound makes me shiver.
A golden head appears between two dancers, a male wearing a lion’s mask. I’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere.
Etan.
And he’s looking for someone.
Me, if I was to place any coin on it. He’s already claimed my dances. And Mother insisted I allow it.
Gods, it wasn’t someone’s eyes upon me that I was sensing, but danger in itself. If he sees me then I’ll be forced to dance with him, and right now, I’m still furious enough at my mother’s demands that I don’t know if I can bite down on my words.
I turn, desperate to escape, and it feels as though the crowd in front of me parts at my whim.
They’re not parting for me.
Too late, I realize there’s a tide of darkness swimming toward me. A wolf prowling through the dancers, forcing them to yield to him. He’s shockingly tall, clad in leather and black velvet. His short hair is the color of sable, his skin a healthy olive. Unlike the rest of the fae, there’s not a single glittering ring or bead upon him. Just cold, merciless black.
But there’s nothing cold about the look on his face. Nothing merciless about his expression. Only… intensity. Our gazes lock and it feels like time stands still.
The world vanishes.
The music fades.
It’s like we stepped sideways into another world where only the two of us exist. And maybe it’s true. Maybe the Veil thinned in this precise moment.
Is he an ancient god brought to life?
Did I conjure the Erlking with my thoughts?
No. No. If anything, this male is far too mortal to be the Erlking. There’s a vitality to the Erlking, all the stories say. But this male is… a little too coldly lethal. The music flows over him as if he doesn’t hear it. He radiates strength and determination, his focus locked entirely upon me. Or maybe that’s the mask that decorates his upper face.
A hawk.
A hawk that’s caught its prey.
My heart flutters in my chest. I can’t breathe.
I don’t even know why.
“Dance with me,” he says, offering his arm and finally smiling. If the Erlking does exist, then he sounds exactly like this: firm and commanding, the slightest hint of wickedness rolling through his words.
He’s much bigger than he seemed across the clearing. Broad shoulders. Hard muscle. All of it hidden beneath the refined cut of his doublet. Despite the lack of jewelry, I recognize good tailoring when I see it and this is exquisite. Every inch of his clothing caresses his body like a second skin. He oozes sophisticated elegance, but there’s a hint of danger smoldering just beneath the surface.
“Do I have a choice?” I can’t help being on the offensive; he’s just a little too overwhelming.
“You always have a choice.” Taking my hand he lifts it to his lips. “Me? Not so. Fate took me by the heart five centuries ago and tattooed you there on my soul.”
A nervous shiver runs through me as his lips brush against my knuckles.
I can feel his breath.
Feel the heat of him.
“Very practiced line,” I point out.
He laughs a little, almost at himself. “If only you knew the truth.”
“Iskvien?” The sound echoes across the clearing.
Etan’s finally found me and though dozens of dancers separate us, he’s visibly seething as he sees my hand clasped in this stranger’s grip.
Alarm kicks through me.
I have to go.
“Forgive me—"
My stranger catches a fistful of my skirt and I can almost see the unspoken command in his eyes.
Stay.
The word tremors through me, even as our eyes meet.
“Dance with me,” he repeats.
This is a terrible idea. Etan is pushing through the crowd toward us—I can’t even tear my eyes from the stranger’s face to see where my nemesis is, but I saw Etan start this way.
I don’t even know his name. His court. Who he belongs to.
There’s no answer in the unrelenting black of his clothing. Black and silver are the colors of Evernight, of course, but no lord of Evernight would ever approach me. And there are enough black-clad strangers here that the color alone doesn’t make him stand out.
“I shouldn’t….”
Finally, a smile blooms on that dangerous mouth. “No. You shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. But the second I saw you I had to know you. What’s your name?”
“As if I’m going to hand some handsome stranger my name.”
His lips curl upwards. “You think me handsome?”
“You know you’re handsome.” I push at him, snatching a glance behind me.
It’s like trying to shift a mountain.
“Who is he?” The stranger demands, and tension coils through him.
“You want to dance with me?” I blurt. “Then get me out of here. Get me as far away from him as you can and I will grant you a dance. I will grant you a dozen of them.”
Stillness.
“I’ll hold you to that,” my stranger breathes. “But as you wish….”
He swings his cloak over me, tucking me under his shoulder and the world vanishes, the dancers and the music dropping away. It’s like we took a step between this world and another.
I can see ghosts of the others still moving. Wisps of a skirt appearing here and there. Laughter ringing out before it cuts off.
My handsome stranger sweeps me into the crowd, an arm draped around my hips. A spin, and suddenly we’re in the middle of the dancefloor. I catch a glimpse of the back of Etan’s head, barely a foot away as he searches for us.
And then we’re gone again.
A guard I recognize as my mother’s appears, up on his toes as he scans the crowd. They’re all here. They’re all looking for me. There’s some kind of illicit thrill in stealing away from both of them.
A hop, a skip, a twirl.
It feels like I’m spinning in circles.
The stranger lets me go as I stagger into the trees, his cloak falling from my shoulders. Music hammers at me, drums vibrating through the trees. The fae are back, no longer mere hints of movement.
I press my spine to the ivy-covered tree, my eyes darting over his shoulder. Etan’s expression tightens with anger when he clearly can’t find me.
“Forget about him,” my handsome stranger whispers.
“I’m trying.”
Something soft brushes over her lip. “Does this help?”
It’s his thumb, tracing my lower lip so slowly that a fist of heat knots between my thighs.
Our eyes meet.
And then the back of his knuckles ripple over my jaw. He makes a small sound in his throat as if he finds the contours of my face fascinating.
A shiver runs through me. There’s barely an inch between us, as if he’s trying to give me just enough space that I don’t feel caged.
“What was that? How did you do that?”
He takes my hand in his, that dangerous smile back in place. “Magic, my love.”
I eye his cloak. “I need to get one of those.”
He laughs, and the sound catches somewhere in my chest as if some part of me knows it’s not a sound the world hears very often. “It’s not the cloak, princess.”
I can’t help stilling. Princess. “I wouldn’t dare claim such a title.”
“Not yet, anyway,” he says mysteriously, and then he tugs at my fingertips. “Let us leave this clearing far behind. You owe me a dozen dances anyway….”
“And so you
intend to claim them?”
“Oh, yes.” There’s a look in his eyes that brands me. “I intend to claim them all.”
“That’s somewhat presumptuous of you.”
He pauses, one arm extended as he gestures for me to follow him. “Come with me. Dance with me. Please.”
I run my tongue over my teeth. There’s something about him that intrigues me.
And Maia knows I’ve spent enough years dancing to my mother’s tune. This time, it’s my choice whether to take this risk or not.
And I want it.
I want to take his hand. I want to dance with him. Maybe steal a kiss. He’s wickedly handsome, after all.
Maybe steal something… more?
Heat works through me again. I’ve played by the rules all my life, and this is where it’s gotten me.
I slowly release a breath and clasp our hands together. “Then I will.”
The celebrations spill from one clearing to another. The music shifts and changes. My dark stranger sweeps me into a jig, and then a reel, and then something slower.
It’s the something slower that makes me feel nervous.
His body is carved of hot sin, his eyes like smoke and thunder. He whirls me under his arm, again and again and again, until I’m dancing on the tip of my toes, my skirts flying around us. I come back into his arms, breathless with the sensation of his body against mine.
“I think I have paid you your quota of dances.”
“True. I thought perhaps to earn more.”
“Earn more? And how would you do that?” I tease.
“Come,” he whispers in my ear as the music lulls. “Why don’t we go somewhere private?”
You want a choice? Andraste whispers in my memories. Then this is your chance to make that choice.
“I don’t know if I trust you or not.”
He stills. “I would never hurt you.”
Of course not. They all say that. I press a hand to his chest. “As lovely as that sounds, you are asking me to disappear into the woods with you. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you intend….”
“I intend to get to know you.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Another heated look. “I only intend to get to know you.” His smile is wicked. “I don’t let myself get lured into the woods by women when I don’t even know their name.”