A Dance with the Fae Prince by Elise Kova
Chapter 36
I’m going to die,that’s my first thought. And my second thought is, fight.
I fall backwards, not even caring how I might land, as long as I dodge his attack. But Boltov has fae speed and power. When his first swipe misses, he follows through on his momentum, spinning and dropping down to the ground over me. I roll, amazed his claws don’t find their mark a second time. Then I look up and see why.
Davien looms over us, still glowing and holding Boltov by his wrist. Chaos abounds in the hall; some people are running for the portcullis; some step out of the way and pour themselves fresh glasses of wine to watch the entertainment they were promised.
“For even trying to touch her, I condemn you to death,” Davien snarls. Boltov struggles to break free of his grasp, but can’t.
Butchers are charging from every corner of the hall. “Davien, Butchers!” I shout.
He glances over his shoulder to assess the threat. With his free hand, Davien grabs the glass crown on Boltov’s brow. Boltov screams. There’s a horrible ripping as the crown is freed. I watch as his flesh is sheared from bone in chunks that cling to the crown, as though it had been cemented to Boltov’s head. Davien looks at it in surprise and disgust, before throwing Boltov back into the dais with unnatural force. Boltov’s head cracks against the stone, leaving a trail of blood, and his eyes are dazed. His lids slowly droop closed. Without the crown, he looks like the frail, little man I first saw him as.
“I’ll hold them off.” Davien looks between Raph and I. “You two, find a way to free the others.”
“With pleasure.” I push myself off the ground. Davien doesn’t have time to place the crown on his brow before the Butchers are on him. The head Butcher knocks it from his grasp.
“Davien—”
“Go!” He snarls and lunges for the man who rounded up Dreamsong.
I curse, fighting the urge to stay and help him. “Follow me, Raph.”
Raph is at my side as I begin to run to the doors that Davien was escorted in from. “Where are we going? What about the people above?” I know without seeing that he’s looking up to his father.
“I’m not sure about them yet.” I push a startled courtier aside and right in the way of a lunging Butcher. “They were keeping Davien through these doors, so I can only assume that’s where they’re keeping the stronger, or more dangerous people. We need them.”
“Do we want more dangerous people?” Raph spins out of a Butcher’s grasp. He reaches into his pockets and holds up what looks to be shimmering sand. He blows it out of his palm and it ignites in the air, exploding into millions of tiny sparks—harmless but effective in concealing us escaping through the doors.
“We want dangerous people if they’re our dangerous people,” I whisper. Even though the main hall has erupted into chaos, these passages are quiet and I would be a fool to think that Boltov would leave his prisoners unguarded.
“Oh.” Raph gets it. “Like Vena and Shaye?”
“We can only hope.” The hall continues away, lined by doors that look far too nice to hold prisoners. “Raph, if you were keeping prisoners, where would you put them?”
“In the heart of the hill,” he answers without missing a beat. “Closer to the center where all powers are weak except for the king’s.”
“Then we head down.”
“Wait.” Raph takes my hand. “I doubt this will work, but it’s better than nothing.” He closes his eyes and a look of extreme focus overcomes him. I watch as an image overlays on top of him, slowly condensing into place like water solidifying into ice until it appears solid. Where Raph once stood is one of the Butchers who stopped us by the castle’s portcullis.
“Did you just make us both look like Butchers?”
The illusion laid on top of him nods its head. I have no idea where to look, because I know Raph only came up to my hip. “Again, I doubt it’ll work. Most fae can see past others’ glamours.”
“But it’s better than nothing. You’re brilliant.”
“Just hold my hand. I have an easier time glamouring you as long as I can touch you.”
“Fine with me.”
We start down the hall. At the end it opens into a room. Fortunately, it’s empty, and there’s a staircase that heads both up and down. We take the downward path into another room. It’s in the fourth hall that we see a group of Butchers racing past in the distance. We wait, clinging to the wall and holding our breath. Only one glances our way but doesn’t seem to register us as out of place. Raph’s glamour works.
Down another staircase, the finery of the castle is beginning to disappear and be replaced by what I would expect of the Boltovs. There are rooms designed solely for unsavory delights—the sort that makes me cringe and pass through as quickly as possible. I hold Raph’s hand a little tighter. It’s going to take him some time to process all this once we’re done. But if we succeed, he’ll be able to have that time with both of his parents still alive.
As we’re passing by a door, I hear faint mutterings inside. I halt and press my ear against it, confirming my suspicions.
“What is it?” Raph asks.
“I think they’re in here.” My hand lands on the door handle. “Are you ready?”
“After what happened in the hall, I’m ready for anything.”
“Yes you are.” I try and turn the latch, but it won’t move. I bite back a loud groan of frustration.
“It’s all right, I can take care of this one.” Raph releases my hand and the glamour disappears. His nimble fingers pick at the door and he mutters to himself. I hear the soft click of the latch coming undone. He smiles up at me sheepishly. “Don’t…tell my parents about that particular ritual, okay?”
“Your brilliant secret is safe with me.” No wonder he can get anywhere and into anything. I grab the latch again and debate how I want to proceed. Do I open the door and go in ready for a fight? Or do I try and sneak in? Unsure, I crack the door slowly. A sliver of light cuts through the doorjamb and I can hear the words more clearly.
“…you hear the echoes of screams, don’t you? Those are cheers of delight, as your fake king gets torn apart by the courtiers he would try and rule,” Allor sneers.
I open the door a little farther, poking my nose in. There’s a bloodied table in the center of the room, and all manner of wicked-looking instruments on the walls. In the back are several cages, all full of people whom I recognize from Dreamsong—namely Shaye, Giles, and Vena.
Allor paces in front of the cages, as though the bars are designed for her—to keep her out—rather than keep her prisoners in. Because if she had access to them, well, her threats make it clear what she would do.
I open the door a little bit more, the hinges are silent, and I ease myself in, staying against the back wall. Vena’s eyes dart over to me only for a second. Giles is slumped against the wall, not moving. I’m sure Shaye notices me as well, but neither her words nor demeanor betray anything.
“You would hope those are cheers of delight,” Shaye says loudly to Allor, as if trying to keep the attention on her. “Because if they’re not, it’s going to be disastrous for you, isn’t it? What do you think our new king will do to the Butchers who served Boltov so faithfully? He seems like he’s a generous man but—”
“I don’t want generosity from the likes of him.” Allor scoffs.
“No? And here I thought you wanted the generosity of kings. You don’t seem to have any problem kissing Boltov’s boots.” Shaye leans into the bars. “Maybe that’s because you realize that without him you’re absolutely nothing.”
“How dare you!” Allor rages, lunging for the cage. As she rattles the door, I slowly take a bulky steel mallet off the wall. It’s so heavy my muscles tremble just holding it up. “You are the one that is nothing. You are the one in the cage, not me.”
“I escaped the cage he put around me long ago.” Shaye smiles, keeping Allor’s focus on her and her alone. “But I do feel sorry for you, that you’re not strong enough to escape. Weak body, weak mind. It’s so very sad.”
“I’ll show you who’s weak.” Allor fishes in her pockets. As she produces a key, she sees me in her periphery, now only a step away. “What the—”
I don’t hesitate. I swing. The hammer meets the side of her head with so much force it flies from my hands and slams on the floor with a clang so loud I’m certain it’s alerted half the castle. Allor falls to the floor, motionless. I stand over her, panting softly. With one strike my pulse is racing even faster than when Boltov attacked me. Every inch of my body is aflame, panicked, ready to fight.
“Nice hit.” Shaye whistles.
“I—Do you think she’s dead?” I ask uncertainly. I didn’t expect to make good on my threat to Allor in the woods that day. I guess she was the next fae I killed.
“I hope so? I think it would be very poetic if one of their lead Butchers was killed by a human.”
As Shaye speaks, Raph picks up the key that Allor dropped and begins to unlock all the cages. Shaye is freed while I’m still staring down at Allor. She rests a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think she’s dead. Which is also good, because I’d like the honor of killing her if it’s all the same to you?”
“By all means,” I murmur.
“What’s happening?” Vena asks, emerging like she had been sitting in there by choice and not force. “I take it that the fact that you’re here is a good sign?”
“Davien has the magic of the old kings. The abdication ritual was finished. He’s up in the main hall fighting off the Butchers but he needs help,” I say quickly.
“Reinforcements are coming.” Vena looks to Shaye, who’s dragging Allor into the cage she was just trapped in. “You know where the others are being held?”
“I don’t know anything about the castle; I told you that already.” Shaye rolls her eyes. “But I can make an educated guess.”
“Do that,” Vena commands as Shaye locks the door to the cell on Allor. “The rest of you who are able to fight, come with me.”
“I can lead you back to the main hall!” Raph says excitedly.
“That is no place for you.” Vena frowns. Raph deflates some and frustration reddens his cheeks.
“Raph, I need you,” Shaye says. “I need your little fingers to get into any locked doors there might be standing between me and the rest of our friends. Plus, after we free everyone, we’re going to need a guide back to the main hall.”
“All right.” Raph looks up at Vena. “You’ll free my father, right? He’s in a cage in the main hall.”
“I will,” Vena swears.
“I can show you the way,” I say.
Vena shakes her head. “That’s no place for a human, either. You should stay here.”
“I’m going to lead you.”
“Vena is right,” Shaye says as she tends to Giles’s wounds. He groans softly. “You should stay here; it will be safer.”
“Let’s go,” I say firmly to Vena.
“This isn’t your fight,” Vena says.
“This is my fight.” I point to the ground, as if I’m making my stand, as though I’m swearing on the rock on which the first fae king was crowned. “This has been my fight from the moment the magic of the old kings entered my body—from the moment I married Davien back in the Natural World. And then I made an oath to your people. I followed through on my promises. I want to see this to the end.” I want to see the first moment Davien sits on the fae throne.
“Very well,” Vena relents with a glint in her eyes that almost looks like approval. “Lead on.”
We race back through the corridors and rooms. There’s not a sign of a single Butcher on the way. But as we grow near, I can hear why.
The fighting in the main hall has reached a fever pitch. Screams and explosions of magic rattle the doors that Raph and I escaped through. Hold on, I plead from the deepest recesses of my heart to Davien, hoping that somehow he can hear me. Hold on just a little bit longer, I have things I need to tell you.
I hang back, and let the fae charge around me. Even if this is my fight, they’re better warriors than I am. Especially since I lack all magic now.
Doors burst open to reveal a hall scarred by magic. Wispy weapons fling through the air as Butchers leap from shadow to shadow. Davien is in the center of it all. He is alight, power still rippling off of him as cold flames that deflect most of the attacks. With a mighty flap of his wings, he launches into the air, catches a Butcher by the throat, and throws them to the ground, landing atop their chest before engaging with another.
The fae from Dreamsong flood into the room and further level the playing field. With this many hands, they’re able to free those that were still trapped in the cages hanging from the ceiling and they join the fight as well.
As the tides turn, I look to the dais. The smear of blood from Boltov’s head is still there, but Boltov himself is not. I thought he was killed, or knocked out at worst.
Where is he?I don’t see him in the fray, and the fact spurs me to action. I begin to run along the wall, jumping over debris and dodging deflected attacks that dig pockmarks into the brightly colored frescoes at my side. Crouching low to make myself small, I inspect the blood trail that leads away from the dais and around the back. Following it, I find a small door, hidden from view of the main room. It’s ajar.
I glance back to the hall. No one seems to have noticed me. They’re all too busy. Before I can think better, I cross the threshold.
Behind the door is a tunnel that I have to crawl through. It widens to open up to a spiral stair. Up and up, I spin until I’m spit out into what appears to be a closet. Dozens of coats and pants, all stained with blood and left on the floor to stink up the room, cushion my feet as I push through the curtain of hung clothes.
Shuffling in the other room has me halting. Boltov mutters to himself. Footsteps grow near and I crouch, sinking back into the passage before he can see me.
The hanging clothes obscure most of my vision, but I can see him rummaging around in glimpses. He grabs things frantically, as blood is still streaming from his forehead, painting his face a haunting shade of crimson. He opens a cabinet, revealing daggers, but instead goes for the jewels that are laid out beneath them.
When he leaves, I slink back out and take one of the weapons for myself, silently lifting it off of its pegs. He’s trying to run and I’m not going to let him escape. One bloodline will end tonight, but it’s not Aviness.
I emerge into the king’s bedchambers. He’s in an attached office, framed by bookshelves on either side, illuminated by a window-filled wall that overlooks the city and stars. Sure enough, he has an open bag on a desk he’s trying desperately to stuff too many yards of fabric into. He curses, frustrated, and sends clothes scattering with a grunt.
I silently pad up behind him. This is the king that has held the fae kingdom at its knees? No, he’s just a watered-down version of the first usurper, clinging to prestige that no longer exists.
Boltov reaches down for one of the jewels he dropped. He’s far too frantic to notice me. When he’s on his knees, I slip the dagger in front of his throat.
“Don’t move,” I say softly. He looks up at the window that dominates the wall behind his desk. Our eyes meet in the reflection on the dark glass.
“You.” He rasps laughter. “A human girl has come to kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you.” Though I certainly considered it.
“You’re going to show me mercy? I doubt your friends will like that.” His upper lip curls as he sneers.
“I’m going to let the new and rightful king decide what to do with you.” Is there a better coronation gift to give Davien than Boltov’s head?
“The new king…that squalling bastard won’t last a year.”
“A bold statement to make with a knife in your throat.” I pull in the dagger just a little for emphasis. Boltov leans his head all the way back to look up at me. His expression is mad glee.
“Davien Aviness—except he’s not really, is he? He wasn’t born with that name. He’s stealing the power of the old kings just as much as I would be. There’s not a drop of Aviness blood in him. That crown won’t heed him any more than it heeded me.”
“If you don’t think he could wear the crown, why try and kill him?” I’m not going to allow him to sway me.
“Because anyone who dares utter that they are part of that family is put to death. That name alone spurs rebellions. So long as people think there’s hope of an Aviness returning, they fight me.” He hisses and exposes all his sharp teeth.
“If Davien wasn’t the heir, then why couldn’t you wear the crown?”
“I’m sure there’s some squalling babe, or boy, a distant offshoot that has just enough blood in their veins to keep the ritual alive, likely from the last true Aviness who escaped my clutches. But who that babe is?” He chuckles darkly. “Not even I know. And killing every possible Aviness prevents anyone from even thinking to seek their heritage. So the true heir will never know either and the glass crown will never be worn again. The fae will be at an eternal stalemate.”
“Davien will wear the crown,” I snarl and jerk the blade even closer. It nicks his neck. Boltov merely smiles wider. “He is the heir.”
All this fighting. All this blood. To think Boltov is right…that all this time he was dissuading anyone from ever seeking out the discovery of the true bloodline…that killing Davien was a means to shatter the resolve of the Acolytes and he never was chosen for the crown…I can’t bear it. He’s lying, he must be.
“No, he won’t. The glass crown will only ever grace the brow of the true heir, and that is not Davien.” Boltov suddenly grips my wrist with strength I didn’t know he still possessed. I was a fool for thinking that just because he didn’t have the crown any longer, he would be helpless. He’s still a fae.
The world spins as I’m flung through the air. Boltov tosses me as though I am a rag-doll. But I grab onto him with my other hand at the last second and the momentum pulls us both toward the window. Glass shatters, raining down over the High Court.
Wind whips my hair and I feel my stomach sucked out of me as solid ground disappears beneath me. Boltov clings to me, scrambling. It’s just like the day I fell from the roof. I stare up at the sky, just like I did then, the moon a silent observer.
Never climb again.
Monster child.
The smell of the burning flesh on my back singes my nose.
For a moment, everything is clear. What really happened that day returns to me. The world seems to fracture because none of the pieces fit together for me any longer.
“I will not lose to you!” Boltov shouts. It brings me back to life. I have to catch myself. I reach for one of the ornate carvings of the windows and catch myself on a lily. “You will not—”
I silence him by plunging the bejeweled dagger into his neck. Boltov gurgles blood and his grip goes slack. He slips from me, falling, farther and farther, until he is nothing more than a speck swallowed by the shadows of the streets of the High Court far below.