Katy couldn’t speak. The thought of her shy, gentle Peter putting himself through so much pain made her stomach hurt. And all of it had been for her. She closed her eyes. Please, Atharo, I’m not sure if you care much for me, but please don’t ever let him put himself through that kind of pain again. I beg you.
“But look what he’s become.”
Everyone turned and looked at Saraid, who was gesturing out at the field. “No man alive would be wise to cross him.” She locked eyes with Katy. “No creature, for that matter, either.”
Katy was too horrified by what she’d learned to give heed to the jab. She turned down to look at the field again. Most of the competitors had been touched by the guard’s warning sticks, so only a few remained in the field. The second pole had been lit as well, and now Peter was taking aim at the third. The grace in every move was astounding. She recalled the way it had felt when he’d rushed with her out of the forest from the waterfall. She’d been so incensed at leaving that she’d almost completely missed the way it had felt to be so close to him.
Almost.
But the very recollection of the moment now sent shivers down her spine. He’d placed one arm around her, though whether to keep her from leaping off the horse or protect her from being taken, she didn’t know. The raw strength in his touch hadn’t been lost on her completely, though, and even in her anger, she had marveled at how the skinny boy she’d known was indeed gone, and in his place stood a man.
At what cost, though?
Peter was declared the winner of the first game and the second game was begun. The king announced this game as he had the first, but Katy didn’t hear a single word. She could only watch Peter miserably as she imagined him being tormented by duty day in and day out. For some reason, he’d always believed he owed her protection, even when he was too weak to provide it himself. She couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of torture he must have put himself through, particularly after his own father’s death.
“Are you well?”
Katy looked up to find Art frowning at her. She tried to relax her features enough to appear in control of her emotions, folding her hands, which were prickling with power, in her lap. “I suppose I find it difficult to imagine Peter pushing himself like that for eight years.”
“When they wanted six hours of training, he would give eight. If they wanted him to learn a new weapon, he would train with it until his fingers bled.” He glanced down at the field. “Everything that boy did was of his own choice.” He fixed a curious gaze on Katy. “Everything was for you. It was always for you.”
Katy sighed. That only made everything even worse.
31
Live
Agnes stepped back and bobbed her head with a satisfied grin. Lady Muirin’s smile was even wider. “Katy, you’re breathtaking!”
Katy gawked at the girl in the mirror. This wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.
The evergreen silk of the gown’s skirt shone gently in the light of the fading sun. Golden leaves started just below the waist in a v-shape, then sporadically floated up the bodice to line the neckline. The sleeves draped down her shoulders like little waterfalls, then cut off in uneven lengths just beneath her elbows. Her dark hair had been swooped up just above her neck, and on her head, Agnes had carefully placed a thin golden band in her hair. And as Katy continued to stare, Lady Muirin herself draped a delicate gold chain around Katy’s neck, its center weighted down with what appeared to be a dried maple leaf covered in a layer of what at one time had been liquid gold.
“These belonged to Peter’s mother,” Lady Muirin said, patting the chain once more.
Katy, who had been brushing the golden leaf with her fingertips, yanked her hand away. “Am I allowed—”
“The king gave me full access to her wardrobe after she died.” Lady Muirin’s smile died briefly, then returned. “He wished for me to keep it well preserved until Peter married some day and his bride could claim it.”
Katy stared at the gold once more. That meant she was wearing Lady Saraid’s future gifts. This thought made her want to laugh and cry. Then she peered more closely at all the jewelry.
“Why don’t more ladies wear jewels? I mean, I’ve read stories of them, but I don’t think I’ve seen a single jewel since I’ve arrived.” She paused. “Even Lady Saraid said something to Peter about wishing for gems.”
“Oh, nothing you need to worry about.” Lady Muirin waved her hand and turned Katy in a circle, examining her with hawkish eyes. “Some superstitious nonsense, I assure you. Something having to do with the War of the Olcs, or whatever they call it now. Women use metals such as silver and gold, but some of the more daring ones will use garnet.”
This didn’t make Katy feel any better, but she couldn’t very well start peeling the jewelry off in front of the two ladies who had spent two hours getting her ready.
“How did the games go?” Lady Muirin asked, retreating to the bed while Agnes added the final touches, little golden pins in her hair that were shaped like butterflies.
Katy frowned. “I really don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Peter won two of the three matches, so he was crowned winner at the end. He was allowed to select a lady to stand with him.” Katy paused, her throat growing tight.
“And let me guess.” Agnes’s voice was acidic. “He chose her ladyship.”
Katy nodded. “But that wasn’t the odd part.”
“Oh?” Lady Muirin sat higher in the bed.
“Benjamin, the squire, won the second game, which meant he was also allowed to choose a lady to stand with him as well.”
“I’ll grant that he’s rather young,” Lady Muirin said, “and a bit overconfident from what I hear. But what’s so strange about that?”
Katy almost smiled. “He chose me.”
The indignation that had been on Agnes’s round face moments before began to turn once again into a sly smile, which she shared with Lady Muirin. “And how did his highness react to that?”
Katy hesitated. “He…he didn’t seem very happy.”
That was an understatement. In truth, Peter had gone so still Katy had thought he might strangle Benjamin then and there. And Lady Saraid hadn’t looked much happier, though Katy guessed that had something to do with Peter’s reaction rather than Benjamin’s choice of partner. But she didn’t see the need to tell the women all of that, for they looked as though they were already scheming.
To her surprise, Lady Muirin practically flew out of bed, and she was grasping Katy’s wrists until they hurt. “Katy, do you recall the dance I told you about? The one that will happen first thing at the ball tonight?”
Katy nodded. “Whichever woman dances the best will get the first dance of the night with the prince.”
Lady Muirin leaned forward, her blue eyes ablaze. “You must win that dance.”
“But I hardly know it!” Agnes had taught her earlier that day, but Katy had had little time to practice.
“It doesn’t matter!” Lady Muirin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know who you are beyond what Peter’s told me. I don’t know what you are.”
Katy felt herself pale, but Lady Muirin went on.
“What I do know is that in the few hours I’ve known you, you have shown yourself to be more compassionate to Peter than Saraid ever will be. I don’t care what you must do tonight, but use everything in your heart and body to beat her. You win that first dance with my cousin, and when you do, you convince him that if he loses you, he will lose everything!”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Katy whispered.
“It doesn’t matter. If you love him, you will do what you must to save him from himself. To save him from her.”
A knock on the door announced that it was time for everyone to move to the throne room. Agnes took Katy by the hand and led her out the door and pointed down the hall.
“Do you remember how to reach the throne room from here? Never mind. Just follow ev
eryone, and you’ll get there.” She waved at the dozens of nobles, soldiers, and servants moving down the hall like fish in a stream.
“You’re not coming with me?” Katy turned to the little woman in a panic.
“Ach, no. My ladyship needs her rest, and you need to catch the prince’s eye. Don’t need a fussy old woman to help you with that.”
“But—”
“Go!” Agnes gave her a shove and slammed her chamber door shut.
Katy stared at her closed door for a few seconds before being bumped by someone from behind. Very well then. She would go. She would try to win the dance. But she wouldn’t let herself be swept away, not like they wanted her to be. They didn’t know what they were asking. Even now, she struggled to contain the power in her hands, flexing them nervously and wiggling her fingers over and over again until the tingling within them seemed to fall to a simmer. If she allowed herself to dance as she knew she could, letting go of all restraint and allowing her self-imposed shackles to fall off, who knew what the people around her would see?
It certainly wouldn’t be a small, frightened human girl.
Katy grimaced as she was shoved to the side again. With a deep breath and a prayer, she allowed the stream of people to carry her away.
By the time she reached the main doors to the throne room, the push to get inside was nearly suffocating. And then what, she wondered as she squeezed through the entrance. If she won, and then if everyone saw through her, what would become of all she and Peter had sought to hide since her arrival? Their whole lives, really. Would they punish him? Probably not, especially as he was now going to be the official crown prince. But they could punish her.
As she moved deeper into the room, the people began to fan out, making a wide arc around the thrones and a large portion of the floor in front of them. She could see where the young women were already beginning to gather in the large space before the thrones. Many she had never seen before, most of them wearing commoner clothes. Lady Muirin had said something about that, allowing commoners to compete for a dance with the prince as well. Many of them were clustered in small groups, giggling and sometimes practicing a few of the dance steps. Most of the noble girls were gathered around Saraid.
The ballroom itself was like something out of Sir Christopher’s old books. The chandeliers cast bright beams of light across the room, making it nearly as bright as day. Tables covered in filigreed trays of fruit, candied meats, sweet bread twists, and an assortment of other delicacies Katy couldn’t name dotted the room. Silken tapestries twisted from the floor to the ceiling, shining in the light of the thousands of candles. As she was turning in circles to follow the tapestries up to the ceiling, Katy noticed the paintings. Flowers, leaves, and butterflies painted in all shades of green and outlined in gold were spread across the ceiling. Katy could have looked at it for days.
Of course, the ceiling wasn’t the only thing shining at the ball.
If she had been beautiful before, Saraid’s splendor was nothing compared with tonight. Snow-white skin was covered in folds and loops of the richest indigo gown Katy had ever seen. Her golden hair had been braided a hundred times, it seemed, and intricately woven in and out around her head, giving her the look of some ancient holy creature from one of Firin Reaghan’s old stories. What Katy guessed to be platinum, though she had never actually seen the shiny metal with her own eyes, was draped on every part of Saraid’s body. Rings, bracelets, earrings, necklaces, even her hair pins had the same white, extravagant shine. Rouge had been flawlessly applied to her cheeks and lips, and her long lashes fluttered whenever she shut her eyes.
Katy could feel her hope stumble and fall on its face. Lady Muirin wanted her to compete with that?
The beat of a drum echoed through the great hall three times, and the hundreds of guests grew quiet and still. A fat, red-faced man stood at the front of the dais and read from a parchment.
“His Majesty King Finnen Readagh the Third of the Third Isle, wishes to welcome all, noble and common, to the coronation ball celebrating the official designation of Peter Readagh, son of Christopher Readagh, son of King Finnen Readagh the Second, as Crown Prince of the Third Isle. As has been our tradition for the last eight hundred years, the ball shall commence with a dance to discern which partner shall first accompany the prince, a tradition to remind us that fate has designated a true queen to assist and strengthen the heart of the king.”
“Fate?” Katy whispered to herself.
“You must be new to the city.”
Katy turned to see who had spoken. The girl standing beside her had tan skin and short dark hair, and she wore a neat, practical dress.
Katy nodded.
The girl’s eyes lit up, and she leaned down to whisper. “Rumor has it that the dance was once meant as a way for Atharo to help the prince choose his bride. A sign, if you will, that Atharo had given the winner enough strength and skill to persevere to the end.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that anyone believes it now.” She nudged Katy with her shoulder. “But you see that girl? Lady Saraid? She wins this dance at nearly every ball and celebration, even the ones that aren’t for coronations. Her mother hired a private dance tutor when she was small, and some say she practices every day.”
“I was told every girl knows the dance?”
“Oh, we do. We learn it in the streets before we’re five years old. But what working girl has time to practice a dance every day when her family needs food?” She shook her head and smirked. “You know very little for being dressed so well. Are you a lady? A duchess, perhaps?”
Katy balked. “I...I was a childhood friend of the prince’s.” She waved at her gown. “This is all the kindness of others.”
“Well, it looks like Lady Saraid has taken notice.” The girl bent closer. “Try and save your strength. The dance isn’t hard, but it’s long, and most drop out from sheer exhaustion before its end. Lady Saraid will try to intimidate you into making a mistake. Don’t let her see your nerves.”
Katy wanted to thank the girl for her warning, but just then the music started, and all the girls began to spread out into a circle. Katy moved out, too, praying that she might find the right pace.
At first the steps weren’t difficult. Katy had been able to memorize them easily that morning when Agnes had taught her. But now, with the thousands of candles burning around them, the hundreds of faces watching, and the hundreds of feet that moved around hers, Katy found the order of the moves hard to recall. A kick, a hop, three twirls. A toe tap, two skips, and a leap. And then it all began again.
Somehow, Katy managed to make it through the first round of music without being tapped on the shoulder by a judge and asked to leave the floor. But as the music continued on, it also grew faster, and for one fleeting moment, Katy made the mistake of looking up.
Two sets of eyes were trained upon her. Peter was watching her intently, a look of focus on his face from his place beside his uncle’s throne. And Saraid, who was slowly making her way to be beside Katy as the dance progressed and more girls cleared the floor.
One of Saraid’s silver shoes came down inches from Katy’s toe. Katy jumped back and tried to regain her balance, but the momentum threw her rhythm off. By some miracle, she was able to continue dancing, but she could already see Saraid coming for her again.
The music flew from the musicians’ fingers even faster, and Katy attempted to catch up and move away from Saraid at the same time. She could feel panic threatening to cut off her breathing. Her hands and feet prickled. It would only be a minute or two before the judges called her out, she just knew it. Saraid would win. Lady Muirin would be disappointed in her. And Peter would never be allowed a dance with her. Saraid would make sure of that. This was her last chance to have a night, even a few moments of happiness with Peter before she left, and she had done exactly what the girl had warned her about. She had let Saraid intimidate her. Again.
I expect to hear that you have done your best to live. Firin Reaghan’s words flashed in
her mind.
Live. Firin Reaghan wanted her to live. And though she denied it to everyone else, Katy wanted the same as well. But fear, as it always had, was caging her in. She could still recall the way the townspeople had looked at her the first time she’d danced at a festival. As she’d spun and turned, delighting in the way it felt to fly through the air, her feet hardly touching the ground, she hadn’t noticed the way the leaves around her had changed from green to yellow and orange and red, or how the wind began to lift and pull away people’s hats and shawls. But the villagers had. And after that, Sir Christopher had forbidden her from dancing, for her own sake.
But, a rebellious voice whispered in her head, you’re leaving anyway. Does it matter what these people think?
Katy didn’t know. But she did know, deep in her heart, that if she allowed Saraid to have this dance and stake her claim on Peter, Katy would never be the same. She would never know the feel of his hands on her waist as they danced. She would never have his full attention again, those crystal eyes looking into hers as though he could see her soul.
Just this once, she told Atharo, let me live.
Long ago, Katy had learned to rein in her power. She imagined casting a net over her body, keeping her muscles tight and in control. The power that wanted to radiate from every inch of her entire being was wrapped tightly in the personal prison of her creation. At first it had been hard, but after years of practice, she hardly noticed it anymore, only when her defenses slipped.
But now, it was as though she were shedding a heavy mantle, as if she were letting a great fur coat slip from her shoulders as she walked into the sun of spring. She was weightless. She was uninhibited.
She was alive.
Power coursed through her veins, and Katy focused it into her legs and feet. Her hands and arms flew up and out with a grace and poise Katy had forgotten she possessed. Closing her eyes, she let herself smile as she spun with renewed vigor. This dance was hers.
The Autumn Fairy Page 21
