A Dance with the Fae Prince by Elise Kova

Chapter 19

With a flapof Davien’s wings, we break away from the hold the earth has on us and soar through the skies above Dreamsong. My heart is in my throat once more, stomach doing flips. But not with terror.

I feel safe in his arms, I realize. He holds me with easy security. As if, even with my broad shoulders and strong hands, I’m no trouble to him.

My fingers tease his hair at the nape of his neck lightly. The long strands are raked by the wind, away from his sculpted face. The wind shifts and his gaze turns from the horizon to where he’ll put his foot next. He catches me admiring him and a flush covers my chest and cheeks.

Davien chuckles, but says nothing about my staring. His foot hits the pointed spire of a building, like a feather balancing on a needle, and he pushes off once more. We start our ascent back to the cotton clouds drifting as effortlessly through the blue sky as us.

“May I ask you something?”

“I believe you just did.”

I roll my eyes and he chuckles.

“Yes, Katria, what is it?”

“Why is your flying more like jumping than the other winged fae?” I look around us. Davien soars higher than most of the others. But only at the crest of his arc. Then he comes back to earth as others sustain their altitude.

“Ah,” he says with a soft sigh. “That…”

“Is it because of your wings?” I ask.

“Do you want to hear me answer your question? Or should I just let you speculate?” Davien laughs and I give a sly smile. We touch down, this time on the railing of a balcony, and shoot up once more. The rooftops of Dreamsong glisten with the sunlight. Gilded gutters and glass shingles catch the early dawn. “Yes, it’s because of my wings. And they are weak because of my being forced to grow up in exile. I was far from this land—my homeland—and all its magic. Think of our power as a muscle. It languishes from lack of use. And I had precious little magic to use in the Natural World to train myself.”

“So your wings were tattered from not being used?” I glance over his shoulder at the beat of his wings. Even though they are frayed and thinned at the edges, holes punched through as though he was shot down once by archers, they flap with power and force. They seem stronger than the first time we flew. Perhaps I’m not the only one becoming more luminescent in this world.

“Among other flaws in my magic,” he admits. It sounds painful for him to do so. Which makes it all the more meaningful when he continues. “It’s why I could never let you see me.” His grip tightens slightly. “I couldn’t even so much as glamour myself when we first met, or dismiss my wings when I wished. You would’ve known exactly what I was from the first moment. I was a pathetic, weak creature.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“You fended off a Butcher to save me.”

His eyes dart toward mine, lips parted slightly. I have never paid more attention to a man’s lips before. And he seems to be just as keen on mine. I imagine him staring at my mouth as I spoke, blindfolded. The thought nearly has me squirming in his arms.

“Oren did, technically. I could only flee.”

“You charged in and saved me.”

He seems frustrated and embarrassed by my trying to pay him a compliment. I can relate to that discomfort. “I should have been able to do more…”

“That was another thing you wanted the power of the old kings for, wasn’t it? To restore you to the fae you would have been if you’d grown up in Midscape?”

“Yes.” He glances at me with longing. Once more, he’s looking through me, not at me. He’s looking at the power that’s his.

“I’m going to do my best to give it to you,” I say softly. “I promise I am.”

“I know.”

Before anything else can be said, he descends. This movement has a bit of finality to it and I tighten my grip slightly around his neck, bracing myself against him for when we meet the ground. Of course, our landing is as delicate as the rest of his flight has been.

We’ve landed on a vacant plot on the far edge of the city, at the edge of the mountains where the forest is encroaching on the valley. All of the houses of Dreamsong are packed together, right on top of each other. It didn’t fully strike me how closely until I saw this empty lot. Giles and Oren stand together, engaged in a heated debate over a book that they don’t so much as glance up from as we approach.

“I see you’ve made a lot of progress while I was gone,” Davien says, that deep voice of his silencing the argument and bringing all eyes—mine included—to him.

“We just started for the day,” Giles says with a dramatic sigh. “We’re trying to decipher the instructions Vena sent us out with.”

“Show me? I’m certain I can help.” Davien steps forward.

Oren turns the book, holding it out so Davien can flip through the pages. I look around his side. There are pictures of houses and their various parts on the left-hand pages and instructions on the right. Whoever made the drawings had a meticulous attention to detail. Every joist and joining has been carefully labeled and marked. The instructions detail everything from supplies, to timing, to words that need to be said and actions that need to be performed.

“Is this a spell book?” I ask.

“It’s a record of rituals, yes.” Davien continues flipping to the pages marked with silken bookmarks.

“It was passed down in my court,” Giles says fondly. “Rituals from a different age, when the Court of Pillars were the best builders in all of Aviness.”

“So if I do this—” I point a finger at the instructions on a random right page “—then I get this?” I move my finger to the left page, where there’s a detail of an awning over a door.

“Simplified, yes.” He nods.

“Though you likely won’t be doing anything. These are for fae.” Giles chuckles.

“You speak too quickly about things you don’t know, Giles. Always a shortcoming for you,” Davien says plainly.

“Pardon?”

“I brought Katria here because I thought she might be of critical use to us.”

“You’re going to have her help with a ritual?” Giles balks.

“I’m going to have her perform one. If she’s up for it.”

“Excuse me?” It’s now my turn to share in looking at Davien in disbelief. “I’ve never—I don’t know—you saw how it went earlier.”

“How it went earlier is exactly why I brought you here.” Davien looks at me. “You don’t do well in confined spaces. You struggle with instruction and rules.” I suppose that’s not entirely untrue. “And you clearly were uncomfortable around Allor.” That’s definitely true. “None of that makes for a positive environment to use magic in. I thought this would be a project you could be enthusiastic about—you like working with your hands. You enjoy building things. And you prefer to have a purpose stemming from a clear goal. We’re working on something important for all of Dreamsong.”

I force myself to ignore just how much detail he has gathered about me and my personality, instead asking, “Which is?”

“A tunnel into the mountain,” Giles says eagerly. Oren gives him a sharp nudge. “What?”

“It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Who is she going to tell?” Giles throws his hands in the air. “We’re basically her only friends here!” I blink several times and my chest tightens. He catches the expression and hastily adds, “Sorry, I mean, that came out harsh—”

“You think you’re my friend?” I whisper.

All three of them look at me now with strange, unintelligible stares.

“Well…yes. Unless that bothers you?”

I shake my head quickly. “Not at all. I’m not familiar with friends. Never really met many people. My family kept me inside. A lot.” I force laughter, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere but no doubt making it worse.

Davien gently grips my shoulder and squeezes lightly. “You have friends here, Katria.”

“I finally make friends and they’re a world away.” I’m still laughing. So why does it hurt? Pain flashes through Davien’s eyes, as though it’s his chest tightening and not mine.

“Just a Fade away,” Oren reminds me. “One we’re fairly well versed in crossing.”

“Right. So, this project is a tunnel into the mountains?” I quickly try and divert the topic away from me.

“Yes, just in case Boltov attacks. At least some of Dreamsong will have a place to escape to,” Giles says solemnly.

“How many?” I can’t help but ask.

“Not enough. Though we’ll do our best.”

“Why don’t you two start?” Davien suggests. “Katria and I will watch for a bit so she can get a sense of it.” Davien retreats back to the beaten path that lines the front of the lot, motioning for me to follow.

I look back out over Dreamsong. I can see the entire city from this vantage as it slopes down around Vena’s main hall. Hundreds of displaced people and families, living in danger…struggling and fighting to reclaim a homeland that they might never see again and, even if they could, might not be the same when they return.

That feeling is so foreign to me that I have to struggle to comprehend it. I’ve never felt that drawn to anywhere. I’ve never had somewhere I would fight at all costs to get back to.

Davien’s manor? I suppose? I’m fighting to get back there. But even that…it’s just a house. It’s not my home. Maybe I could turn it into my home someday. But for now, it’s just a place to lay my head. Is that what I’m struggling to get back to? Is that the best I have to hope for in life?

“Your thoughts are heavy,” Davien interrupts my contemplations.

“What?”

“Your shoulders hunch slightly when you’re thinking about something sad.” He runs his finger along the ridge of my shoulder from my neck to the edge, where it hovers.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to defeat Boltov?” I ask softly, avoiding the truth of what I was thinking.

“I do. We have to. I refuse to entertain any other option.” Davien turns his gaze over Dreamsong as well with purpose. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“Even though none of this is happening how I intended, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re meant to be here, with me, while I do this.” He finishes his sweep of the city and his attention lands on me.

“I’m holding you back.”

“You’re helping me learn. Forcing me to take time to become acclimated to Midscape before I have full use of my powers. Teaching me to be still and patient—that I can’t charge ahead and defeat Boltov overnight. I shudder to think of what might have happened if you weren’t here to force me to slow down.”

His mouth tugs into a smirk at one corner. The look is a bit sultry, in an entirely unintentional way that makes it all the more irresistible. Davien doesn’t realize just how attractive he is, I realize. His appeal is like his magic. It was unused in the human world. A muscle that went unflexed for such a long time that he doesn’t even realize the strength he has. Soon enough, he’ll realize that power, too. And then women will be fawning over him left and right. A handsome prince returned from exile to claim the throne… I bet there are a hundred fae like Laura who will trip over themselves to be with him.

And where will that leave me?

Forgotten, back in the Natural World.

You never had a place here to begin with, a nasty voice seethes in the back of my mind. You were never even meant to be here. Or with him.

“I’m doing all that?” I arch my eyebrows skeptically, keeping my reservations to myself.

“And more.” Davien reaches for my hand and then thinks better of it, as if he can read my mind. “Oh, look, they’re going to begin.”

I do as he commands, relieved for the distraction.

There’s a small pile of supplies off to the side that Oren and Giles are moving—materials I would and would not expect to find for building. It’s everything from lumber, to blocks, to geodes—cracked like eggs, their shimmering, crystal yolks catching the sunlight. There are buckets of paint and brushes, one of which Giles picks up.

He begins to dribble paint along the ground, murmuring as he goes. Meanwhile, Oren is taking some of the smaller tree limbs and placing them at the four corners of the outline Giles is making. At the top of each of the rough posts he places a crystal, the branch magically weaving around it to hold the stone like a jewel at the top of a scepter.

Giles goes back to the foot of the mountain to paint swirls, dots, and lines across one of the stones there. He does the same on the wood off to the side. Oren and Giles square off against each other on opposite ends of the outline they’ve made. They each crouch down, pressing their fingers into the wet paint that’s pooled unevenly in the divots of the hard-packed earth.

In my periphery, I see Davien move. His lips brush lightly against the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Watch closely. Feel their magic. Feel their connection to the earth—to everything around us—all that was and could be.”

I want to do as he instructs, but I don’t think he realizes just how painfully distracting he is when he speaks like that.

Giles and Oren’s chanting becomes fast and low. The air around them pops with small sparks of light in increasing frequency. I hear a rumble off to my side. The giant tree trunk groans with unseen pressure. A crack splits the air and the wood. Simultaneously, the mountainside comes to life like a sleeping golem waking. The stones behind Giles begin to levitate as the marking he placed on the large boulder glows.

It’s a maelstrom of shimmering magic, stone, and wood. Invisible builders saw, hammer, and nail. They fit the joints with careful precision as a hole is bored into the mountainside. The magic does the work of several craftsmen in a blink. Before I know it, a tunnel has begun. Clay seeps up through the ground, beading and joining along the path. Support beams shore up the overhead.

I stare in awe…and frustration. The latter must show on my face because Davien asks, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s so…so simple.”

“I assure you it only has the appearance of simplicity. In actuality, to perform magic like this takes years of practice to understand both rituals and your power.”

I thrust my hand toward the start of a tunnel. “In mere minutes, two men bored into a mountainside with thoughts. They accomplished something that would take years. If I had this power—if I had even a fraction of it—my family’s home would’ve been different. I could’ve done more. I could’ve been free of them long ago because I could support myself.”

My eyes are burning unbidden. Why does this frustrate me so much? Why do I feel so wounded? Davien just stares at me in that inspecting way of his, making me feel more vulnerable than anyone or anything has before. I look away and shake my head. I’m about to say that it’s all right and dismiss my feelings when his hand lands on my shoulder.

“If you want to do it so badly, then do it,” he says softly. That draws my attention straight back to him and I stare into his emerald eyes. “Right now, you have this power and so much more. If you even drew on a fraction of the power of kings, you would be able to finish the tunnel and its main hall in a blink.”

“But I…” I think of my attempt with Vena and shake my head. I didn’t learn how to repair plaster or mend a roof overnight. I won’t learn how to use magic overnight either. It’ll take practice. “What should I do?”

Davien smiles, genuine, big, and bright. His whole face lights up with excitement. “You’re going to start small. Some lanterns, perhaps?”

“All right.” I follow him toward the front of the tunnel. Oren and Giles are leaning against stones, catching their breath.

“Well done, you two,” Davien says as he picks up the book.

“We’re done for the day now, right?” Giles pants softly. He looks like he just worked an entire day in a quarry. Which quells my frustrations about the “ease” of their building some.

“A bit more.” Davien hands the book to me. “We’re going to do it together, you and I.”

“You could just do it in an instant,” Giles says to Davien.

“This isn’t about me,” Davien says curtly.

“Rare of our lost prince to recognize that not everything is about him.” Giles grins. Davien ignores him.

“Come with me, Katria,” he says. I follow him to the now significantly smaller pile of wood. Davien lays the book out on the ground. “The first thing you need to remember about rituals is that they all require base components. This can be anything from time, to location, to physical objects, to actions you take. The components can be consumed—like the book I used that night in the woods. Or, they can be reused, like those crystals.” He points to the crystals still on posts in the ritual workspace Giles drew on the ground.

“I understand,” I force myself to say, ignoring the reminder of the loss of my mother’s book. But I can’t. “My m—” I almost say my mother’s, but the promise I made to my father to never tell anyone whose book it was sticks. He wanted no one speaking of that book. It was only for us. Unsurprising he never gave it to Davien for so many reasons. “My family’s book, the one you used in the woods, why did you need it?”

He looks uncomfortable. Guilty, even. I wish it made me feel better about him destroying it. But his guilt won’t return what I’ve lost. “It had special magic woven in its bindings. The components of a ritual can sometimes be strange, and not always make sense. But when they come together, the magic is unleashed, and that’s what’s important. If I’d had any other option save for destroying the book, I would’ve done that instead.”

“I see.” Silence passes between us and I push the memories aside. I don’t want to think of the book any longer. It’s gone. What good can come of lingering on it? And, in a way, if burning that book could save an entire people, I’d like to think it’s what Mother would’ve wanted. Davien waits to see what I say next. Determined, I return us to the topic of hand, pointing to the top of the page. “Up here?”

“Yes, these are the components of the ritual.” Davien points to what looks like the ingredient list of a recipe. “Next is preparation. Sometimes, before the ritual even begins, you have to do something to yourself or the components. That’s blank here because this is fairly simple.”

I nod and he continues.

“Then there’s the instruction of how to perform the ritual itself. And that’s it. Fairly simple.”

“In theory, I suppose,” I say, still somewhat uncertain about the prospect of all of this.

“In execution, too. First things first, you need to make these markings on the stone you want to use.”

“What do the markings do?” I ask as I take the paint he hands me and begin copying from the book.

“They attune your magic to the item you’re trying to manipulate. It helps give you control—or connection—with the person or thing.”

“Person, too?” I think of the lines that Vena drew on our faces and how connected I felt to him in that moment.

“Yes. Now, next step is to visualize what you’re going to make. This is why they included the picture with the ritual.” He points to the lantern in the book. “As you visualize, you’re going to say these words and then, when you’re ready, unleash your magic.”

I stare at the picture, thinking about how I would build this lantern… I take a breath and close my eyes. Unleash. I think the command to the magic within me. Make the lantern. My brow furrows. Nothing happens and I feel the same. “Come on,” I murmur.

“Say the words,” Davien whispers at my side.

My eyes shoot open. Oh, right, words. I look down at the page.

“Broken little pieces. Joined back together. Make something anew. That can withstand time and weather,” I say. But still nothing happens. “I don’t think—”

Davien shifts and kneels behind me. His hands settle on my shoulders, running down my arms, pulling the thin fabric of my borrowed shirt in unintentionally teasing ways. His hands layered on mine, he laces his fingers around my palms.

“Stop trying to force it. Take a breath. Let it happen,” he says in that husky voice of his. I feel something stir in me that is not entirely magic related. “Feel the magic in me. Feel it as I let it go. Feel my breaths and the power I draw from the earth itself. Think of your magic like a dance. You are leading a partner with their own will.”

Like a dance…steps I have to take with the magic, not forcing it.

I close my eyes once more and envision the lantern. The words I need to say come to the forefront of my brain. I feel power ripple through the muscles of his forearms atop mine.

“Broken little pieces,” I start softly. I try and give myself to the words. Relinquish the control I so crave to a part of me that has never been there before. “Joined back together. Make something anew. That can withstand time and weather.”

Cracking of stone has my eyes jolting open. I see the pieces dance through the air. My shock makes them falter, shuddering, nearly falling to the ground.

No, I think calmly. Carry on, we’re still dancing.

Davien’s magic merges with mine. He’s helping, but not by much. His power more runs alongside mine, walling it in, channeling it. Almost like he’s guiding me with the lightest invisible touch.

In an instant, a lantern is now on the ground before me. I’m left breathless and I slump. Davien catches me with a hand across my shoulders. He pulls me back to him and I lean against him for support.

“It’s natural to feel exhausted after your first time,” he says softly.

“Exhausted? I feel…I feel…” I stare at the lantern in awe. “I feel alive.”