by KJ Baker
Raven began to move and I was pulled along with him, even though I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to bolt in the other direction. I forced myself to walk sedately by his side and look straight ahead, ignoring the sea of faces that passed by.
But I felt their stares. Oh heck, I felt their stares. I was sure every single gaze in that room swiveled to me, burning into my skin like the sun’s rays through a magnifying glass. Absolute silence filled the place, so pronounced that I was sure I could hear my heartbeat. I didn’t need to hear them speak to know what these people were thinking.
Is that her?
She’s just a weak mortal.
Why has Arion chosen her?
She doesn’t belong here.
How can she expect to be our queen?
The walk to the head table seemed to take an eternity. I thought suddenly of those old novels where young women are presented to society, paraded like a trophy to be examined. Was this how they’d felt? Like a goldfish in a bowl?
We finally reached the head table and Raven guided me to my seat. Hawk stood behind his seat on my right, Ffion on Raven’s left and the three of them made a big show of guiding me to the place of honor. Only when I’d sank down gratefully into the plush, high-backed chair that was more like a throne, did Raven, Hawk and Ffion sit.
I dared to lift my gaze—then wished I hadn’t. Simeon Ash, seated on the side of the room directly opposite, was staring right at me. A little smirk curled his lips.
Anger flushed through me. I returned his stare and then forced my lips to pull up into a beaming smile. This had the desired effect. Simeon’s smile faltered and he looked away.
I really wanted to tell Raven about my altercation with Simeon. That smug smile would soon disappear when my mate’s hands were around his throat. But I’d learned enough in my time here to realize that if Raven acted against Simeon—as he surely would if he learned Simeon had tried to use his glamor on me—the political ramifications would be disastrous. I was no politician, but even I knew that the Shadow Court, in fact all of the Summerlands, was balanced on a knife-edge. I would not be the one to push it off the edge.
“So, this is her? The mortal that’s the talk of the Summerlands?”
My eyes snapped to the speaker. A woman, seated next to Hawk, leaned forward, hands clasped on the table in front of her, gazing at me speculatively. She was beautiful—as all the Fae were—but there was something about the way she held herself that suggested she was hard as well, like steel. Yet her gaze, appraising though it was, was not openly hostile.
Raven squeezed my hand. “Telia Rowan, I would like you to meet my mate, Asha Grant. Asha, Telia is the First Minister of the Court of Rain. Her family has been an ally of mine for generations.”
I said nothing. I could feel the eyes of everyone on me, watching what I would do. Waiting for me to make a slip up. Jeez, being a goldfish in a bowl must be far easier than this. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? Was there a protocol for meeting the leader of another court, their equivalent of a queen? I had absolutely no idea. I had not been trained for this. I had not been brought up in a royal court knowing what was expected.
I glanced at Simeon again. He was lounging in his chair, sipping from a delicate crystal goblet. When he saw me looking, he raised the glass in mock salute.
Rage shot through me. I was sick of this. Sick of them all looking down at me as if I was something less than them. Sick of being ‘that mortal’. They wanted to see a mortal? Then I’d show them one. I’d show them how us puny mortals did things and protocol could go to hell.
I pushed my chair back, approached Telia, and stuck out my hand. “Great to meet you.”
Telia blinked uncertainly so I grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. Then I moved to the person next to her.
“And you are?”
“I...um...Ryander Thorn, of the Court of the Wind,” the man stammered.
I grabbed his hand and shook it too. “Good to see you, Ryander. Love your shirt by the way, that color so suits you.”
I moved down the row of Seelie high-ups, introducing myself to them all. I was used to dealing with grouchy old men and people who thought they knew far more than I did from running my own antiques shop. That had been a business where I hadn’t fitted in either—at least to start with. A young woman running an antiques business? How could I possibly know what I was talking about? I was too young and too unproven, they’d thought. But I’d proven myself in that business—and charmed my way into more than one beneficial deal—and I turned all that charm on the Seelie Fae assembled before me right now.
I don’t know if it worked. I only know that they responded politely, seeming a little flustered by my obvious break in protocol, and I returned to my seat at the high table, feeling a little better. I might have put my foot in it and broken a hundred rules I was unaware of, but at least I’d taken control of the situation.
I lowered myself into my seat between Raven and Hawk with relief. Raven said not a word but approval shone in his eyes.
Hawk wasn’t so restrained. He leaned close and whispered, “Would you look at their faces? Ha! They don’t know whether they should be charmed or offended! It’s about time they were put off balance!”
I was saved from answering by the arrival of the meal. An army of servants brought in a seemingly endless supply of food. There were silver platters brimming with delicacies, crystal decanters full of golden wine, and soon I found myself with a porcelain plate in front of me piled high with enough food to feed a family. I frowned. After the opposition I’d faced getting the refugees housed and fed, this display of opulence did not sit well with me. When I was queen, things were going to change in the Shadow Court.
Wait. What? When I was queen? Since when had I accepted that idea?
Telia Rowan took a sip from her glass and turned to me, leaning across Hawk to do so. “So, Asha, tell us about the mortal realm. I hear it is full of technological wonders. Machines that can fly, devices that allow you to talk over great distances. What are they called? Fell Cones?”
I snorted my wine, narrowly avoiding spraying it everywhere. “Cell phones,” I corrected her. “And the flying machines are called planes.”
Telia’s gaze sharpened. “You have experience of these things?”
I glanced from Telia to the others. They were all watching me expectantly. I shrugged. “Sure I do. I even flew transatlantic once when my grandma took me to Scotland. That’s where she was from, you see. And as for cell phones, well, everyone has them these days.”
“And is it true you can talk to somebody at the other end of the country?”
“Not just the country, you can talk to someone on the other side of the world if you want to.”
Telia pursed her lips. “Fascinating. Tell me about them. How do they work? What sort of magic do they possess?”
I blinked, a little taken aback. Then I realized that these people had never been to the mortal realm. All contact between my world and theirs had been ended when mortals had been released from their slavery and the Veil erected. To them, the mortal realm must seem as alien as the idea of the Summerlands once did to me. I realized something else as well. Whilst these people might have powerful magic at their disposal, whilst they might be stronger, faster, and more deadly than any human, they did not have the technology the mortal realm did.
In the time since our emancipation, humankind had not been idle. We’d spread across the globe and evolved in ways the Fae could never have imagined. We’d developed technology, weaponry, ways of traveling around the world. Raven had once told me that the outcome of a war between the Fae and humankind was anything but certain and I suddenly understood why. I also understood why it was so important to get these people on side, to forge an alliance between the Seelie courts in order to stand against the Unseelie and stop that war from ever breaking out.
“Well,” I said, pursing my lips. “I can’t claim to be an expert in digital technology, but I think
it goes something like this...”
RAVEN
I think I was as spellbound with Asha as the other Seelie leaders were. She talked with a warmth and enthusiasm that was all natural, with a charisma she wasn’t even aware of. As she described the mortal realm in detail to Telia and the others, I found myself watching her with rapt attention, studying the way her lips moved, the way her eyes shone in the candlelight, the way she unconsciously gestured with her delicate hands whenever she tried to explain something.
“What do you mean this cell phone can capture moving pictures?” Telia was asking. “How can a picture move?”
“It’s not a picture—or a photo as we call them—it’s a video. It records what’s happening and puts it into digital format so we can watch it back. It’s the same with movies and TV programs.”
Telia looked utterly bewildered but intrigued as well. I smiled to myself. Asha had been so nervous about tonight. Her anxiety had pulsed through our bond like a living thing and many of the people at this banquet had come expecting to meet a weak-willed mortal with no real strength of her own, a plaything for the king of the Shadow Court.
Oh, how they had underestimated both of us.
What they were seeing now was no weak mortal but a strong-minded, intelligent woman busy reminding them all that there were things Asha understood that the Fae couldn’t even begin to fathom, that she had strengths we couldn’t hope to emulate. And as she talked, her beautiful voice ringing through the hall and weaving for them an image of the mortal realm and its wonders, I saw a grudging, unexpected respect for her forming in their eyes.
That didn’t mean I relaxed my guard, of course. On the surface I was all calm serenity, but beneath the exterior I kept my focus honed and sharp. I knew Ffion and Hawk were doing the same. Neither had touched their wine, and despite Hawk’s genial banter with the man sat next to him and Ffion’s cool conversation with the woman on her right, I saw that both their gazes flicked constantly over the gathering, alert for any kind of danger.
So far, so good.
Yet this was only the beginning. The banquet was just the first stage in forging a Seelie alliance, a way for the Shadow Court to express our high regard for our allies. The real business would come later, after the banquet, when we would sit in council. It was not an experience I was looking forward to.
The evening wore on. Course after course of food flowed, the best that the kitchens of the Shadow Court could offer, and musicians up on the balcony serenaded us while we ate. There was entertainment too, with jugglers and acrobats taking their turn to display their skills within the square formed by the dining tables.
To anyone looking in from outside, this must have seemed a festive spectacle. The hall was filled with music, laughter and merriment. Yet, it was all a lie. It was all a thin veneer hiding the undercurrents of tension that swirled through the room like invisible smoke. It couldn’t be seen but it could be smelled and tasted by anyone who knew what to look for.
Bowen materialized at my elbow. My lead tracker was dressed for the feast like everyone else, but he was serving a very different purpose tonight.
“Anything?” I murmured, so low only he could hear.
He poured me another glass of wine. “Nothing. No hint of treachery and I’ve had my spies go right through the palace and the encampments of the Seelie lords and ladies, including the important documents they think are safely locked in their rooms. If they’re planning to betray you, they’re more cunning than I gave them credit for.”
I nodded, breathing out a slow sigh of relief. Good. That was good. Although we were all Seelie, and technically on the same side, the murder of the Spire had done strange things to the Fae psyche and many Seelie had agreed with the Unseelie on taking revenge on mortal kind for the murder.
“Thank you, Bowen.”
He nodded and melted away, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he’d come. The meal was almost over and people were beginning to push back their plates and engage in conversation. The jugglers who’d been entertaining us during the last course finished their act with a flourish and then tromped out, leaving the space in the center of the tables free for something else.
I glanced up at the balcony, catching the eye of the musicians up there. Understanding my cue, they nodded and began to play a more sedate melody. Everyone in the hall knew what it meant. A hush crept over the crowd. All eyes turned to me. Asha, still deep in conversation with Telia, stuttered into silence, looking around in surprise.
I pushed my seat back and slowly stood. Very deliberately, I gave her a deep bow and then held my hand out to her.
“My queen,” I said in a voice that carried to the whole hall. “Would you give me the honor of the first dance?”
Chapter 9
ASHA
First dance? What? Raven was kidding, surely? He could not be expecting me to dance in front of all these people. Didn’t he know that I had two left feet and about as much coordination as a sack of rats?
I met his gaze and gulped at what I saw there. Oh, yes. He was deadly serious. I could feel the eyes of the court on me, waiting to see what I would do next. I sensed that this was somehow part of the ritual, that it was important in a way I didn’t understand.
Raven held his hand out to me. Trust me, his gaze said. Trust me.
I swallowed thickly and then took Raven’s hand and allowed him to draw me to my feet. Oh hell. What was I doing? I was about to make a fool of myself in front of the whole Shadow Court!
Raven led me into the large rectangular space in the middle of the tables. It made a perfect dance floor, with a view from every part of the room. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling had been placed in exactly the right spot to illuminate the space. There was nowhere to hide.
Raven clasped my left hand in his and rested his right on my hip. I placed my right hand on his shoulder as though we were about to do a waltz or something. Oh no. We weren’t about to do a waltz were we? I had no idea of the steps. I would trip over and fall on my ass. I would—
“Relax,” Raven murmured.
“Easy for you to say,” I murmured back. “What is this? Why didn’t you warn me?”
“A necessary part of the bonding ritual,” he replied. “If you are to be accepted as my queen, they must see us dance. It proves whether we are in fact, fated mates.” A faint smile quirked his lips. “And if I’d warned you, you’d likely have refused to come to dinner at all.”
“Damn right,” I muttered. “I can’t dance.”
He stepped close, so his body was pressed against mine and spoke right by my ear, so close that his breath sent goosebumps up my skin. “You will be able to dance this dance, my Asha. You will see.”
We began to move. There were so many things I still didn’t know about my mate, and I quickly realized that his dancing skill was one of them. To be fair, I probably should have guessed. I’d seen how he moved when he was hunting or fighting, all sinewy grace and elegance. He brought all these skills to the dancefloor. I followed his lead, helpless to do otherwise, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t fall flat on my face as I allowed him to guide me around the dance floor, slowly at first, sedately, in time to the music swirling around us.
To my delighted surprise, that first turn around the dance floor, I didn’t fall on my ass. Blind luck, I told myself. Yet, as the musicians increased their tempo and we began to move faster in response, I realized that the steps seemed to come naturally, as though my body responded to Raven’s without my even needing to think.
Was this part of the bond we shared? I had no idea but I was hyper aware of him, every beat of his heart, every breath that left his body. I knew how he was going to move instinctively and my body responded, my feet placing themselves in exactly the right spot, my hips swaying exactly the right way.
The music was quick now, filling the air with a frantic beat. Before I knew it, we were sweeping around the floor in a mesmerizing, spiraling dance. Raven spun me, caught me, sent me pirouett
ing away from him like a ballet dancer before scooping me up and sending me in the other direction.
His hand on my hip was a hot coal, his scent like a heady perfume. The rest of the room fell away, the Shadow Court disappeared, until there was only Raven in the whole world.
I heard a gasp from the crowd and I glanced down and realized with a start that we were glowing. A faint white light surrounded Raven and I, shimmering and flowing as we moved. What the—?
With a flash of insight, I realized the glow was a manifestation of our bond and the dance we spun was making it stronger, tighter, and letting the Shadow Court see it as well.
All the nervousness, all the anxiety, all the concerns about not fitting in evaporated. Instead, I felt suddenly invincible. I felt like I belonged. To Raven. To the Summerlands. To this moment, right here, right now.
The music thrummed through my body, pulsing through my blood, drumming through my bones. I became one with it. We spun and swayed, stepped and shifted, faster and faster as the music increased, gathering into an ear-splitting crescendo.
I did one last pirouette across the floor, twirling so fast the light around me became a blur, and flung myself into Raven’s arms. He caught me, pulled me close, and pressed his lips against mine just as the last, high note lingered in the air, throbbing through the stretches of the hall.
Then silence fell. The world around us flashed back into being and I became aware of the chandelier above us, the hard floor beneath my feet, my chest heaving from exertion.
Raven looked down at me and that fire still burned in his eyes, whispering promises of what he would do to me later when we were alone. Then he blinked and stepped back, taking my hand and holding it high as if to present me to the Shadow Court.
“I give you Asha Grant,” he announced, his voice rough with emotion. “Queen-apparent of the Shadow Court.”
Some instinct told me what to do. I dropped into a deep, regal curtsey, and as I straightened, the hall burst into thunderous applause, so loud it made the cutlery rattle. Even Ffion was clapping, a strange look on her face. Not approval, certainly, but maybe a little less disapproval.
