A Dance with the Fae Prince by Elise Kova

Chapter 13

What once feltlike a forest of magic has now become a haunted graveyard. After Shaye’s tales, we walk in silence for most of the morning. Every forgotten house, left to ruin and rot, is now a tombstone in my eyes. Every tree is a marker of some fallen fae, butchered in their beds so that this Boltov family could rule unquestioned.

There’s a deep ache in me I can’t explain. Human. Fae. Suffering is universal. It’d be impossible to look on this barren landscape and not feel sorrow for the horrors that have been wrought.

Maybe it’s those stories and their uncomfortable truths that helps me at least compartmentalize what happened with the Butcher. It wasn’t as if I meant to kill him. The magic acted on its own. Moreover, if I didn’t take his life, he was certain to kill me. And…it doesn’t sound like he was someone innocent of atrocities, either. Maybe by ending his life, I saved another? That’s a dangerous logic. But I need to keep my sanity together somehow right now.

I don’t really have hours in the day to allocate to having an emotional breakdown. Too busy surviving.

As dawn breaks, the little motes of light rise from the moss and begin to dance among the trees once more. They illuminate the air, buzzing around me with a happiness that is now muted by the truth. I wonder if they are actually spirits of murdered fae. But that’s one curiosity I won’t indulge.

We move without incident throughout the day. Everyone remains on alert, scanning the horizon lines at all points. Giles and Shaye have taken wide sweeps of the woods around us, remaining within view, but far enough that they can see around distant trees and look across ridges that might be too high for the rest of us.

Hol, Oren, Davien, and I remain in a pack. Oren and Davien at the front, Hol and I behind. Though there isn’t much conversation happening.

Just like Davien promised, we hike all day through the woods. My stomach is practically roaring by nightfall and my feet are aching. It doesn’t matter how soft the moss is, the support of a pair of shoes would make all the difference for my throbbing feet.

“We should break for dinner,” Hol says, loud enough that it gets Davien and Oren’s attention.

“We need to keep moving.” In contrast to his words, Davien stops. “We can’t rest until we’re in Acolyte territory.”

“I’m not saying rest. I’m saying stop for food.” Hol glances back in my direction and then back to Davien with a pointed look. “Just a short break.”

Davien’s eyes settle on me. I purse my lips as I can feel him assessing me from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet. Shaye’s earlier words stick with me and I try to hold my head high, even though I know I currently possess all the dignity of a disheveled raccoon.

“Do you need to stop?” he asks me.

“I can keep going,” I force myself to say when all I want is to shout, Five minutes please! I’m not going to slow them down. And the faster I help him get this magic out of me, the faster I can go home and get out of this deadly situation that I was never meant to be in.

“Good, we carry on then.”

“Davien—”

“Your true king has spoken.” Davien cuts off Hol with a glare. “If we keep walking, we should cross the Crystal River by dawn.”

“Very well.” Hol folds his arms.

“Sire, true king, permission to speak freely?” Shaye has perched herself on the top of a rock we’re passing by. She’s been close enough to overhear the whole conversation.

“Granted,” he growls.

“You’re being an ass.” Shaye smirks. “That is all.”

Davien huffs and puts his back to us, storming off. I think I see Oren give the slightest bit of a chuckle. There was no smoke attached with Shaye’s comment…which means she was telling the truth about him being an ass—at least as far as she sees it. I bite back a snicker.

But a few hours later, I don’t even have the energy for playful amusements. Right foot. Left foot. That’s all I have the strength for.

Right foot, left foot, I echo in my mind as I move. I’m telling my legs to bend while begging my feet to hold me upright. I thought I knew the depths of strength I could draw from—what I was capable of accomplishing when forced to. But this is shattering every previous notion and putting more to the test.

All at once, the trees break and the sound of rushing water assaults my ears. I blink, standing at the edge of a riverbank unlike any I’ve ever seen. It’s lined not with sand, or rock, but crystal. Hundreds of thousands of shimmering shards reflect the moonlight like glass. Magic swirls underneath the water, split into a thousand fractals by the stones.

“This must be the Crystal River,” I murmur with relief.

“It is,” Shaye affirms.

Without warning, she scoops me up into her strong arms. I wrap my arms around her neck like I did with Davien. Even my arms feel tired. Though who knows how… I didn’t even use them at all today.

Shaye leaps into the sky, flapping her butterfly wings behind her. Hol is at our side, using a pair of white bat-like wings that he dismisses with a thought on the opposite bank. Shaye’s flight is stronger and more sure than Davien’s. She had mentioned something about Davien being weakened by being cut off from the magic of this world. Perhaps that’s why his wings have that perpetually tattered look to them.

Davien crosses the gap with Giles in his arms. Sure enough, he more leaps and glides than truly flies like Shaye. But my cheeks still warm slightly at the memory of being in his arms—at those first sensations of weightlessness as we drifted through the starry sky. During those brief seconds where things truly seemed like they were starting anew between us.

My landing is far more graceful during my second experience of flight than the first. We touch down onto the bank on the other side. As soon as my feet meet the damp earth a shiver runs through me. Shaye grips my shoulders.

“Give it a moment, it’ll pass.”

“What…” My teeth chatter so violently I can’t finish my question. Luckily Shaye seems to know what I’m going to ask.

“The Crystal River is one of the Acolyte’s demarcation lines. You’ve left the control of the Blood Court and we have heavily warded our lands against them. The magic is feeling you out…making sure you’re not foe.”

Sure enough, as she’s speaking, the feeling of hands rubbing all over my body subsides, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. I force another shiver, trying to shake the sensation.

“What would happen if I’m foe?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Shaye grins. Before I can press, she looks to Davien. “There’s an outpost not far from here. We can make camp—”

“We continue on to Dreamsong,” Davien says, brushing past us.

“Dreamsong is another half-day’s walk.” Shaye’s hands fall from my shoulders and she rushes to be at Davien’s side. “You have to stop. She has to stop.”

Davien looks back at me with the same agitation as before. “You can heal yourself, can’t you?”

“I don’t know…” I murmur. “I have healed myself… But I’m not sure how—”

“Good. Restore strength to your muscles with the king’s magic and carry on with the rest of us.”

“My lord, I think Shaye—” Oren tries to say.

“I have spoken!” Davien’s voice echoes between the trees, long before the pinched-up agitation in his shoulders does.

“Katria…” Oren starts softly.

“I’m all right.” My turn to interrupt him. “Don’t worry about me. I can keep going.”

Oren regards me skeptically but says nothing. I’m not going to give in. I won’t be the weak human they expect, ready to topple over at any second. I can keep going.

If only I could use the power on command, however… I stare at my swollen feet. I noticed a while back they’ve begun to leave little blood spots on the moss where I walk. It doesn’t matter how soft the ground is…my feet have become one large blister that is now ripping open.

I hear the fae talk around me, but I’m too focused on my aching feet to even pay attention to the words being said. Heal, I think, Heal! But the magic does nothing. I’ve never even thought magic was real until today, why do I think I can suddenly use it on command? Yesterday? I blink up at the dawn. What day is it, anymore?

I’ve been walking forever…

The world tilts as I begin to sway. Every step is shakier than the last. My knees threaten to lock or give out.

Right foot.

Left foot.

Shaye says something to me but it’s muffled. I blink several times. The trees are becoming hazy. There’s something wrong with my eyes and ears.

“Almost there,” I think she says.

Almost…not soon enough.

Right foot.

Left foot.

Dawn has broken. The forest is alive once more. But I enjoy none of it. I’m an automaton. I move to prove it to myself and to the man with the bright green eyes who looks back every now and then just to ensure that I’m still upright.

“Look,” Giles says from some distant place. “It’s Dreamsong.”

We stand at the top of a ridge where the trees have broken. Below us, a city has been erected. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. My eyes water as the world goes sideways. The blurry metropolis tilts, spinning as I do.

Everything goes black.

* * *

I groan softly,rolling over on my feather mattress. The duvet is heavy on me. It’s as soft as it always was, pulled right up to my ears, blocking out the late morning’s sunlight.

As I yawn, consciousness slowly returns to me. I had the strangest dream. It was a long dream, too. And so vivid… I dreamed I was in the land of the fae, that I was pulled there following a ritual in the woods.

Laughing softly at myself, I push back the covers, expecting to be met with my room at Lord Fenwood’s manor. I stop with a sharp inhale. This is not that room.

Sheer curtains waft in the breezes of a late afternoon, teasing me with glimpses of a city sprawling beneath my second-story, arched windows. The bed is a simple platform, as comfortable as anything, but a stark reminder that I am very far from anything remotely familiar. I run my hands over the linens. They’re almost identical to the ones Davien used in his estate.

Did he import them from Midscape? I wonder. He must have. It occurs to me I’ve never felt any material this buttery soft. Of course it was made by magic.

My room is sparse. Whitewashed walls are split by dark beams that support a high ceiling. There’s a mirror hung above a dresser to the right of the bed. A chair is situated by the far opening.

But…that’s it.

I push back the covers and sit cross-legged to massage my feet. Just like the last time I woke up here, I’ve been healed. The soles of my feet show no signs of blistering or trauma.

So I have magic. And I can use it. Just not consciously. “Great, simply fantastic.”

When I stand, I notice that my robe and nightgown are nowhere to be seen. I’ve been dressed in a simple, silken shift. Delicate embroidery lines the neck—a similar design to the markings Shaye and Giles have on their flesh. I’m too grateful to be out of those soiled clothes to be horrified by the idea that someone stripped me down while I was unconscious.

I inspect myself in the mirror, turning right and left. The usual pallor of my skin has brightened. My hair seems a richer, more vibrant chestnut. This is more than the change I saw from the good food and easy life of Lord Fenwood’s manor. I look positively radiant. I should get forbidden, ancient magic more often.

As I twist, though, I notice the low-cut back exposes the upper edge of the gnarled scars that stretch between my shoulder blades. Whoever dressed me must’ve seen it. I feel sick and try to situate my hair over the old wound. It aches at my mere acknowledgment of it so I try and put it from my mind.

Opening the door to my room, I poke my head out into the hallway. There’s no one. I start down the hall toward a stairway at one end. The other doors along the hallway are closed—more bedrooms, I presume.

Voices drift up from the bottom of the stairs. They’re murmured and soft. But one sticks out.

“Okay, I think Shaye said it clearly enough. But just for emphasis—you were being an ass. Like a donkey. But more…stubborn and frustrating.” Giles. And I suspect I know just who he’s speaking to.

I’m not intending to creep down the stairs, it just sort of works out that way. My footsteps are light enough that no one notices me. And it’s not my fault that the table in the great hall is positioned in such a way that no one sitting around it has a clear view of me when I emerge.

“I was trying to keep us safe,” Davien insists.

“You were trying to wear her down,” Shaye says, shoveling food into her mouth. “Either because you were frustrated with her because she has the magic…or because you were trying to push her to the point of using the magic for you again so you could see it. Regardless, still an ass, and you should get yourself together. It’s no way for a king to act.”

Davien glares at her. “We were being hunted by the Butchers.”

“There was a single Butcher,who we killed. Well, she killed. Great trick, that, especially to do it without a ritual to prepare the power. Once you get the magic you should learn how to do it, too.” Giles tears a piece off a loaf of bread and takes a large bite. He continues talking with his mouth full. “We might be the town screwups about most things. But we can at least make sure no one lives to tell the tale of how badly we mess up.”

“Just like that woman in the woods,” Hol murmurs over his goblet.

“Exactly like that Butcher in the woods,” Giles agrees.

They’re talking about the woman who attacked me, I realize. Shaye had mentioned something, too, about patrolling the woods on either side of the Fade. I might owe my life to more than just Davien.

“She exploded that man. A magical outburst like that certainly drew the attention of fae near and far,” Davien insists.

“Good thing no one lives in the woods, huh?” Giles grins.

“I’m certain King Wotor felt it.” Davien leans across the table. His voice becomes heavy and serious. The teasing stops. “Which means he’s going to come after me—and her by extension. He knows the old magic has returned to these lands.”

“Who’s King Wotor?” I ask, drawing their attention to me. “Yes, hello, just woke up. Is he the head Boltov?”

“He is. King Wotor Boltov the…what are we on? Tenth now?” Giles leans back in his chair, looking oddly smug. “Just stick with ‘Boltov’ because it’s easier. Anyway, he’s going to try and kill you the first chance he gets.”

“Lovely. I’m noticing a trend that, in the fae world, everything is going to kill me sooner or later.”

“Our sweet deadly home,” Giles muses to Hol, who rolls his eyes in reply.

“So how do we make sure that doesn’t happen? Because I very much like breathing.”

“Now that you’re up, the first step is to talk to Vena.” Davien stands. “If anyone will know what to do…it’s her.”