A Dance with the Fae Prince by Elise Kova

Chapter 18

Davien is fast.The Butcher is faster. She’s a blur of motion, raising a short sword to block Davien’s dagger. They move so fast that my eyes couldn’t even keep up to see where he drew the dagger from.

“Davien!” Vena calls. He’s already moving again, darting back and lunging with his other hand and a different dagger. The Butcher deflects a second time. “Stop this.” Vena rushes over. “This is Allor, and she is an ally to the Acolytes.”

“She looks like a Butcher to me.” Davien continues to put pressure on Allor’s blade. The woman wears a lazy smirk. I can almost see her holding herself back from carving Davien to bits.

“And you look like a spoiled prince to me, so let’s not get into the name-calling, hmm?” Allor says. Her voice is as soft as her shadow cloak.

“Enough.” Vena grabs both of their shoulders, physically trying to push them apart. It’s about as successful as trying to move two mountains. “I asked Allor to come. She’s going to help us figure out the ritual to get your power.”

“You’re trusting a Butcher?” Davien glances to Vena.

“You trusted a Butcher.”

“Shaye had already left well before she joined us. This monster—”

“Again with the name-calling.” Allor rolls her eyes.

“Will both of you just put down your weapons?” Vena acts like she’s speaking to two children.

“Him first.” Allor sneers.

“Why you—”

“On my count.” Vena sighs. “One. Two. Three.”

The two slowly ease apart. Davien returns his daggers back to sheathes hidden in the wide belt around his waist. Allor returns the sword to a scabbard on her hip. But her hand doesn’t leave the hilt. Which is far more unnerving when her eyes dart over to me.

“The rumors are true, then. You do have a human here.”

“I’m Katria.” It feels much better to be called by my name than “human.”

The woman’s grin widens and she nods her head. “Allor. But I suppose you already figured that out.”

Wispy strands of short black hair are pulled back at the nape of her neck. A long white streak cuts a wedge out of her hairline along her brow toward her right temple. She’s about my height, but twice as muscled as I am…which says something since I’ve never considered myself to be a particularly frail person.

“Care to explain yourself?” Davien says to Vena.

“Allor is one of our key informants to the inner workings of the High Court. Without her, we would be very much in the dark about what the Boltovs are doing. She was the one who helped get the information for the restoration of the king’s magic—the one who told us about the relic we needed in the Natural World to complete it,” Vena says.

Davien considers this, eyes darting between Vena and Allor. He’s clearly still skeptical. Even if I can’t see his face, I can feel it off the man.

“Is this true?” Davien looks to Allor.

“Could she lie even if she wanted to? Better question would be why you doubt her.” Allor inspects the pommel of her sword, flicking imaginary dust from it.

The muscles in Davien’s cheek twitch but he keeps his voice level when he says, “Then I am in your debt. When I am king you shall be—”

“Spare me.” Allor holds up a hand. “I’m helping you because it suits me. Let’s not make more of a fuss than we need. Though I know that’s hard for you kingly types.” She still wears a little smile, like the world is some big joke and she’s the one laughing. It’s the look Helen would get when she knew I was in trouble but I didn’t know how yet.

I know better than to trust a look like that.

“What are you getting for all this generosity?” I ask.

“I get to sleep better at night knowing I helped my people.” The words sound scripted to me and do little to calm my nerves.

“What are you really getting?”

Her smile turns slightly sinister. Still like my sister’s. Still everything I hate and know to be wary of.

She turns to Vena. “Why does this human care so much for our politics?”

“You didn’t answer me,” I say. She was vague at best.

“What I get out of this arrangement is my business.” Allor folds her arms.

“I admit, I’m curious now,” Davien says casually. “What has Vena promised you?”

“Safety here in Dreamsong…and the absolution of my crimes from our next king.”

Davien gives Vena a pointed stare. It seems I’m not the only one who knows how to read him, because Vena says, “Everyone needs something, Davien. And many will be like her, looking to free themselves from their past life.”

“We will speak on this later,” Davien says like a proper king. I can feel his annoyance. If it were me, I would already be giving Vena choice thoughts for speaking on my behalf. But I can also see her point. Thank goodness I’m not the one ruling. I don’t know if I could navigate these types of decisions.

“I think that’s for the best,” Allor says. “They’ll begin to wonder where I am if I’m gone for too long.”

“So what is it we’re doing?” I ask. Hopefully the faster we do whatever it is, the faster Allor leaves. My nerves are still rattling in an entirely unpleasant way.

“I asked Allor to research the ancient records stored away in the High Court for any kind of information on a magical transference. Since she was the one to find out how to draw out the magic of the ancient kings, I thought she might also be the one to find us a solution to this mess,” Vena says.

“And did you?” Davien arches his eyebrows.

“Perhaps…” Allor adjusts her hair, enjoying far too much that she has this secret information and clearly no inclination toward sharing.

“Allor,” Vena says sternly.

“Fine, yes, maybe, I can’t be sure.”

“Incredibly helpful,” Davien says dryly.

“Will you let me just tell you what I’ve found?” She glares and continues. “There are old texts on ‘abdication.’ It only happened twice in the records of the old kings, but it did happen. And when it did, one king would pass on the power to the next through this process. The previous king would draw out their power and store it in the glass crown. Then, when the new king was crowned, the power would flow from the crown to him so long as the previous ruler decreed it.

“Granted, this other person still couldn’t wear the glass crown—that can only be the true heir of Aviness, so long as there is a living heir. It seemed as though it was more safeguarding the powers in instances of an heir being too young to rule. Someone would stand in and then abdicate back.” Allor shrugs. “It’s a bit murky, as a lot of the ancient rituals and their effects are.”

Davien runs a hand through his hair. I can hear him curse softly under his breath. Finally, he says, “Is that all? Are you done wasting our time?”

“I’ve hardly ‘wasted your time.’” Allor rolls her eyes. “I’m telling you that it is possible to get the magic from her and give it to you. You should be falling over yourself trying to thank me.”

“Possible for ancient, powerful kings at the height of their power who possessed the most sacred relic of our people—the glass crown. I still fail to see how that helps us here.”

I’m beginning to realize I need to get to the bottom of everything this “glass crown” can do. Shaye said it commanded loyalty from all the fae. But I’m getting the impression that it’s a lot more than even that.

“It means there’s a ritual designed to move the power,” Vena says. “And we don’t know if the glass crown must be the container that the power is moved in. Or if it can be something else.”

“Of course it must be the glass crown. What else would be mighty enough to contain the magic?”

Vena motions to me. “She is not the glass crown, and the power seems to be residing in her just fine.”

Davien turns to me and his face lights up. My heart skips a beat. No one has ever looked at me that way—like I’m the most important thing in the world. And then, my heart stops, sinking like a lead weight into the pit of my stomach with the realization that it’s not me he’s looking at…it’s the magic in me.

He doesn’t care about you, a nasty voice inside me whispers, not really. When he looks at you he sees the magic. I bite my lip and wish it wasn’t true. But I know it is. Davien’s brow furrows slightly and I wonder if he can read me like I can read him. The notion is as comfortable as crawling through thorny bramble. It prickles my arms and rakes up my spine. I look away and break whatever connection was forming between us.

“We should try,” I say. “The faster this magic is out of me, the faster I can go home.” When I bring my eyes back to Davien’s, he wears a slightly confused and wounded look. I barely resist remarking about it. How can he look at me like that when all he wants is this power? When I am otherwise just an inconvenient vessel?

Vena saves me. “Agreed.” She crosses to me and rests her hands on my shoulders. Suddenly it feels like she’s placed the weight of the world there. “I know none of this will make sense to you as a human. But all I ask is that you continue to open your mind and heart to it. Your ancestors, so very long ago, possessed a magic that was stripped from them when they were left on the other side of the Fade. Perhaps, now that you are here, you can reignite those forgotten powers and let them serve you once more.”

“I’ll do my best.” It’s all I can offer. My gaze shifts to Allor. “What do I do?”

“First thing is you’ll need something to store the magic in. I thought ahead and brought this.” Allor takes out a glass pendant on a silver chain. The glass is cut in such a way that it catches even the faintest of flickers from the chandeliers overhead and breaks down the light into rainbows. “You’re welcome.”

“Another relic?” Davien asks. Even he sounds skeptical of the woman now. Which makes me feel better, if only slightly. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something distinctly off about her.

“Indeed. It was among the royal jewels…down in the vaults where Boltov keeps the old Aviness treasures. Don’t ask me what king or queen it belonged to, I’ve not the foggiest.”

“Taking this was reckless of you.” Yet even as Vena says the cautioning words, she’s moving toward the necklace.

“I know. But you’re glad I did.” Allor grins and holds it out.

Vena takes the pendant with both hands, cradling it gently. “Yes, that is the make of the old ones,” she whispers and returns to me. “Here.”

I accept the necklace. I expected the glass to feel sharp given its many edges, but it feels more like velvet underneath my fingers—warm, soft, almost alive. I inhale softly as a rush surges through me.

“What did you feel?” Vena misses nothing.

“It—It felt familiar,” I admit. “Something about it… I’ve felt this before.”

“That’s the power within you recognizing this as familiar and calling out.” Vena looks back to Allor. “What is the next step for her to abdicate this power?”

“From what I read, the king that abdicated held the glass crown and looked into the eyes of his successor. He said he would impart the magic and throne. And then it would be handed over and the new king would be crowned.”

“Seems easy enough.” Davien comes to stand before me, walking with purpose. I stare up at him, heart instantly racing once more thanks to his proximity. “Good. Look into my eyes, Katria.”

The way he says that…so easy, almost sultry. I bite my lip. I hate what this man does to me against my will. I don’t want everything to be ignited by the mere sight of him. But he couldn’t be more handsome than in that ethereal way of his.

“What next?” I whisper. Even though they just told me what this ritual entailed, my mind is already blank.

“Wait, first…” Vena says. She’s buzzing about in my periphery. Whatever she’s doing, though, is lost on me.

All I can focus on is Davien’s eyes. Perhaps the ritual has already started. They’ve never looked brighter—never been more all-consuming. My stare wanders, riding down the edge of his nose to land on his lips, a dusky pink that begs to be kissed. It’s good my sisters never laid eyes on him. Even though he’s a fae, they would be utterly shattered. Maybe him being fae would make them desire him all the more. He’s dangerous…forbidden.

So what hope do I have? I swallow thickly. I don’t have an answer.

“Two separate. One together,” Vena murmurs. Her fingers impose on my field of vision as she reaches up to Davien’s cheek. She draws swirling lines and dots across his right cheek and then his left in a dark purple ink that slowly fades as it dries. Then I feel her finger on my cheek. “Two separate. One together.”

“Two separate,” I’m compelled to repeat. The ink seeps into me like the words.

“One together,” Davien finishes, sending a rush through me.

Vena moves behind me. I’m trapped between her and Davien. Not that there’s any escaping. There never was for me. As soon as Joyce married me off I was destined to be with this man…even if that marriage is no longer valid.

“Now, start,” Vena whispers into my ear as I look into Davien’s eyes. “Breathe with him.” Davien inhales and I do the same, just like the drawings on our cheeks mirror each other. “Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.”

The breaths are so slow and deep that I’m lightheaded. I lean closer to him and I think I see him do the same. His soft fingers brush against my calluses as he cups my hands, holding the glass necklace with me between us.

“Gather the power of kings—the power that does not belong to you. Take that foreign magic and cast it to its rightful owner,” Vena instructs.

I inhale on Davien’s exhale. Everything is thrown off for a second. I quickly get back in sync. This whole ritual is hanging on me and I’ve no idea what I’m doing. The longer I’m trying the more frustratingly apparent it is.

But I have to try.

I begin to focus on every inch of my body. I focus on the muscles of my feet as they press into the ground, keeping me stable as the rest of me feels like it’s trying to fly away. I focus on my stomach, still doing flips at the way Davien continues to stare at me. I focus on my physical body to the point that it fades away. As if once my mind has understood it, then it no longer needs to be considered.

Then…what’s left is song. That thrumming beat I heard when I fell into the fire. The music of ancients, all singing together in a chorus that’s highlighted by my mother’s voice.

That must be the magic. Magic is happiness, warmth, familiarity. Pure power should make someone feel good, after all.

I have to let it go. This wasn’t meant for me. And yet, it already feels as though it’s one with my blood. As though there’s no way I could ever untangle it.

Still, I have to try.

Holding the necklace tighter, I imagine the power flowing down my arms, much like the magic I saw flowing through the trees the first night I tried to escape. Davien’s face is illuminated. I dare not break our eye contact. But I can only assume that it’s working.

“Now say the words,” Vena commands softly.

“I give this magic to you. Take the—” I don’t get to finish.

Magic explodes out from me with a sharp snap. I’m sent backward, landing awkwardly on Vena. Davien is staggered, brought to his knees. Even Allor is on the ground. The necklace is sent flying, skittering across the floor to land far away from all of us, miraculously unbroken.

Davien curses. “Why didn’t it work?” He looks between Vena and Allor with an accusatory stare. Somehow I’ve avoided his blame and ire.

“It was a first attempt.” Vena helps me off of her with a kind smile. At least she’s not cross for how we landed. “Rituals rarely go smoothly the first time, especially ones that are adjusted and adapted as they’re being performed.”

“I need that power,” Davien growls.

“You will have it. And we have time to get it.” Vena stands and brushes unseen dust and dirt from her flowing clothing. “She is safe here as long as the magic is within her. Our borders are secure.” Vena looks to Allor. “Does King Boltov have any inclination of what’s happening here?”

“He has no idea what’s happening in Dreamsong right now,” Allor says a little too easily and smiles a little too widely for my liking.

“Then we have time.” Vena extends a hand to me. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.” I take her hand and stand, swaying slightly. “A little tired, I suppose.”

“I imagine that would take it out of you,” Vena says thoughtfully. “We should adjourn for the day.”

“But—”

“Exhausting her will do nothing.” Vena interrupts Davien’s objection. “We’ll try again tomorrow. And Allor, if you hear anything or find anything that might help, let us know.”

“Of course. Now, I should return before any of my fellow Butchers wonder where I’ve gone off to.” She gives a little wave and steps over into the shade of Vena’s throne. With a puff of smoke, she’s gone. I look around the room, searching for where she could come up next.

“Don’t try looking for her; she’s likely already out of the city. She has a unique talent for shadow stepping over long distances, which makes her very useful to us,” Vena says.

“Butchers,” Davien mutters.

“Are you sure we can trust her?” I dare to ask. Vena arches her eyebrows. “What is she giving them?”

“Nothing. They’ve no idea she’s working for us.” Vena seems to bristle at the fact that I would accuse her of any ill design when it comes to this arrangement. I suppose I can’t blame her. I am an outsider. But I can’t shake this feeling…

“She’s gone from the High Court for a very long time. Plus, her answers…didn’t you hear how she avoided anything direct?” I say.

“You should leave the management of Dreamsong and the Acolytes to me. You focus on regaining your strength so we can try again tomorrow.”

“You mean the management to me, don’t you?” Davien says, locking eyes with Vena.

“Of course, Your Majesty. A slip of the tongue. I’m not accustomed to you being here.”

“See it doesn’t happen again.”

“Would you like us to stop working with Allor?” Vena asks Davien and folds her hands before her, clearly confident she already knows the answer.

“No, she’s proved her use. And if she ever steps out of line or becomes not useful…then we’ll kill her.” Davien starts for the door. He pauses, glancing at me. “You, come with me.”

“What?”

“I want to speak to you.”

I glance to Vena, who just shrugs. Thoroughly confused, I follow Davien out of the audience chamber. We emerge back into the meeting hall, now empty of all except the various attendants and a few unfamiliar faces in a corner.

Davien’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me toward him. His wings unfurl with a shower of sparks.

“Wh—” I don’t get to finish.

“I’m going to fly unless you tell me not to.” He locks eyes with me once more and our sides melt together.

“Take me away,” I whisper. He wraps me in his arms and leaps for an open archway along the top of the gathering hall. In a breath we’re out of that oppressive building that reeks of our failure to separate the magic from me and stepping into the open air.