The Twelve Dancing Princesses

by K. M. Shea

  “I see,” Quinn said, feeling fractionally better. If the elves had a cavalry’s worth of these war unicorns in their lands, Quinn would never want to venture near Alabaster Forest again. Still, she had to admit Pookie was almost pleasant to ride. He glided through the woods, his hooves barely making a sound.

  “What was…Pookie doing out here?” Quinn asked. “Was he stabled nearby?”

  “Nah, my mounts wander the woods freely. If I need ‘em, I just whistle,” Emerys said.

  Quinn worked to keep her face blank. They run free? No wonder nothing has ever breached their borders! “You don’t have more than one unicorn like…Pookie, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  “I see,” Quinn repeated. She swayed slightly, lulled by Pookie’s smooth gait. She was growing tired as the adrenaline that had kept her active and on edge faded.

  “Quinn?” Emerys asked, his voice tight. When she didn’t respond, he tapped her hand with his beak. “Quinn?”

  “I’m fine; it’s just catching up with me.” Quinn blinked and shook her head.

  Emerys muttered something in elvish, and Pookie slightly increased his pace.

  “We’re almost there,” Emerys said.

  Quinn nodded and clung to the war unicorn, concentrating on keeping still so she didn’t jostle her arm or shoulder. The pain was starting to increase and was spreading down her back.

  “There it is,” Emerys said after several more minutes of riding. “Sideralis.”

  Quinn slowly looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.

  Sideralis was a city unlike any other. It was not built in a cleared space in the forest, but rather intermingled with it. The buildings—tall and narrow with an abundance of windows and spires topped with crescent moons and stars everywhere—stood proudly next to trees that were so old and ancient, they were thicker than a horse was long.

  Each building was constructed of a different type of wood and individually stained before being coated with some kind of resin, so each glittered in colors of honey-gold to a deep red when shafts of light pierced the forest canopy. There was one building—the tallest of them all—that was even made out of white wood and glowed just as the trees did.

  I bet that’s the palace…

  A river flowed through the center of the city, and curved wooden bridges with vines and flowers encasing the rails crisscrossed over it. There were fountains, statues, and gorgeous wooden gates carved and cut out to resemble different night skies that opened up into the main road.

  “It’s beautiful,” Quinn said, enthralled with its beauty.

  Emerys was not. “Alastryn!” he shouted, hopping up and down on Pookie’s back as the war unicorn brought them closer. “Alastryn!”

  A tall female elf Quinn recognized as the celebration-starter from the princesses’ party trotted out of a building, her expression clouded with worry. “Emerys?”

  Emerys hopped off Pookie’s back and flew to the female elf’s side. “Get medical supplies! Quinn is wounded!”

  Alastryn frowned at him. “You’re a bird?”

  “Wow, you’re so intelligent, you noticed the obvious. Medical supplies—NOW!” Emerys’ shout bordered on a bellow.

  “Sure is bossy, isn’t he?” Quinn said to Pookie.

  The war unicorn ignored her and passed through the giant gates—styled like a sun and moon—to enter the legendary elf city.

  Alastryn looked past Emerys—who was now raging in elvish—and saw Quinn mounted on the war unicorn. “A human?”

  “Alastryn, look at me.” Emerys landed on the elf’s shoulder, his voice icy and cold like a frigid waterfall. “I will explain everything later. But now you are going to get medical supplies and see to Quinn first. Have I made myself clear?”

  Alastryn nodded. “Yes, Sire.” When Emerys hopped off her shoulder, she bowed slightly, then disappeared into a building.

  That got Quinn’s attention. “Sire?” she said.

  Emerys fluttered back to Quinn. “Alastryn can help you. She has training for battlefield medical treatment.”

  “Why did she call you Sire, Emerys?” Quinn asked.

  “Start to dismount—unless you need help?” Emerys turned his attention to the streets of Sideralis—which were mostly empty, strangely so, though his shouts had stirred a handful of elves who lingered in doorways and ventured outside.

  “No, I can manage.” Quinn carefully swung one leg over Pookie’s neck so she sat sideways on him, then carefully slid off his side. The ground was so far away, she jolted a bit when she finally landed, but the pain in her shoulder mercifully did not increase.

  “This way.” Emerys flew across the street, leading Quinn into the building Alastryn had darted into.

  “Shouldn’t we knock or something?” Quinn asked.

  Emerys flew inside without replying.

  Quinn sighed but followed her friend in. Hopefully I’m not breaking some elvish custom…

  It took her a few steps inside to realize she was walking into someone’s home. The wooden floors were covered with sheepskin furs and elaborately woven rugs that depicted scenes of elves collecting fruit from fruit trees, and everything from harps to bows to what looked suspiciously like a phoenix feather were mounted to the walls.

  “Um,” Quinn elegantly stated.

  “Sit down over here.” Emerys wildly flapped his wings to stay aloft as he hovered by a settee positioned picturesquely in front of several large windows.

  He flew away, nearly crashing into a doorpost on his way through the house, leaving Quinn to slowly approach the furniture piece.

  The settee was rather unlike anything Quinn had seen before. It had no back, but instead high sides that were carved with vines and stars. A cushion thick enough to be a mattress was splayed on it, and gauzy blue cloth spilled over the sides like a waterfall.

  There’s no way I’m sitting on this. I’d get it filthy.

  Light but fast footsteps hustled up the hall. Emerys was back with Alastryn, who carried a leather satchel embossed with gold.

  “What are you doing?” Emerys demanded.

  Quinn shifted. “I’m dirty, and it’s so beautiful—”

  “Sit.”

  Quinn sat.

  “Where are you injured?” Alastryn asked as she began pulling glass vials, bandages, and small wooden containers from her satchel.

  “I took a dagger to my left shoulder blade,” Quinn explained. “It was thrown—a straight blade with no serrations…though it was covered in goblin blood.”

  “Goblin blood?” Alastryn turned to Emerys, who perched on one of the wooden arm rests of the settee. “How did you—no, you will give me the entire story later. In the meantime, get out.”

  Emerys suspiciously tilted his head. “Why?”

  “Because she’s injured on her back, which means it needs to be exposed for me to treat her. Leave,” Alastryn ordered.

  “Fine, fine. But you better take care of her—no skimping on medicines.” Emerys flew out through one of the open windows and, from the sound of it, landed on the top of the house. Quinn heard a couple of pigeons coo before Emerys said, “What are you looking at?”

  Quinn cracked a smile, but Alastryn muttered elvish under her breath in what sounded like a frustrated tone as she pulled drapes across the windows.

  “I apologize for my uncouth cousin.” Alastryn shook one of her many vials with an elegant wrist flick.

  Cousin? Quinn wanted to ask, but it felt rude to question an elf who was clearly of noble—possibly royal—blood.

  Alastryn picked up a second vial that was a faint pink color. “Now, if you would please turn around, I will see to your injury.”

  Most of Quinn’s treatment time was spent in silence as Alastryn bent over her shoulder. She poured two different mysterious liquids on the cut—one that cleared Quinn’s sealant paste and stung quite a bit, and a second that frothed and bubbled but smelled like strawberries—and a number of different pastes before bandaging her back up.

>   “It wasn’t a deep wound,” Alastryn explained as she tugged on the bandage. “I used just about every type of healing remedy I had to ward off infection. You will heal far faster than usual due to the potency of the medicines, but you need to be careful with using your left arm for the next few weeks.”

  “When can I use a bow again?” Quinn asked.

  Alastryn wiped her hands off on a cloth. “Start testing your shoulder next week and see how it feels.”

  Quinn started to slide her shirt over her shoulders. “Thank you for the help.”

  “Oh, wait. I will give you something else to wear.” Alastryn stood and gathered up her various supplies.

  “But I couldn’t possibly—” Quinn started.

  “Nonsense! Your shirt is crusty with blood; it will be terribly unpleasant to wear. One moment, and I’ll find something new for you.” Alastryn flitted out of the room before Quinn could further protest.

  Quinn shook her head but breathed deeply when she sat upright, testing her shoulder. Whatever Alastryn had used, it was as good as magic. She felt only the faintest twinge of pain, and the burning sensation was entirely gone.

  “Here. You’ll look lovely in this.” Alastryn returned, carrying not a new shirt, but an entirely new outfit. She placed a hand on Quinn’s lower back and guided her into a bathroom of some sort, going by a filled tub that was topped with water lilies.

  “Take your time. I’ll call Emerys down so he might join us when you’re ready,” Alastryn said. It wasn’t until the elf left and closed the door behind her that Quinn had a chance to look at the clothes.

  Alastryn had given her forest green breeches, a white embroidered undershirt, a shirt of chainmail so light and intricately forged, it made no noise no matter how Quinn shook it, and a layered coat of pale blue and midnight that fit her like a glove and fell to her knees in elegant diamond shapes.

  She quickly used a cloth dipped in the water from the tub to clean herself as much as possible, then dressed.

  I suspect this outfit cost more than I am paid in an entire year. She shook her head as she buckled her bracers—which looked terribly shabby compared to the rest of the outfit—over her arms and settled her leather belt over her hips. While they might be much friendlier than I ever thought, the way elves live is so…different.

  Quinn opened the door and got a face full of Emerys and his wings. “Did she do a good job, or did she just ask you a ton of—” he cut off as he took in her clothes, then landed on her right shoulder and made a bunch of strangled noises.

  “…Emerys?” Quinn asked when he didn’t continue.

  He made a noise that sounded as if he had swallowed something wrong. “Y-y-you, uhh, that b-blue,” he stammered for the first time in their acquaintance.

  Quinn blinked at him. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I believe he intends to remark that he approves of your clothes,” Alastryn said helpfully.

  “I see. Thank you.” Quinn smiled brightly at him. “They’re very comfortable—they don’t press into my injury at all. Thank you for lending them to me, Lady Alastryn.”

  Lady Alastryn held a hand to her heart. “Not lend—you must keep them! I am certain I will have much to thank you for in the future.”

  Quinn blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You are feeling well enough?” Emerys asked, having recovered.

  “Yes, much better,” Quinn said. “I can hardly feel my injury at all right now.”

  “Good.” Emerys leaned into her and rested his glossy head against her cheek.

  Alastryn folded her hands in front of her and smiled serenely. “Now that all pressing needs have been seen to, shall I bring refreshments so you may properly explain what is going on, Your Majesty?”

  “Your Majesty?” Quinn whipped her head so quickly to look at Emerys, she almost knocked him off her shoulder. “You’re royalty?”

  “Uhhhh,” Emerys said.

  “He is our king, Themerysaldi,” Alastryn said.

  Quinn took a staggering step. King? I’ve been insulting the KING of the Elves?! She locked her legs and forced herself to stand straight as she reviewed her conversations with Emerys. What have I said to him?

  “Stop that.” Emerys poked her in the cheek with his beak.

  “Stop what, Your Majesty?” Quinn asked.

  “That!” Emerys said emphatically. “You are my friend. There are no formalities between us. I’m still the same elf—er, mouse and crow.”

  “Mouse?” Alastryn raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been getting into far more trouble than you’ve alluded to, haven’t you?”

  Emerys laughed sheepishly. “I think food is a great idea! Why don’t we eat right now?” His voice was lined with something that was a cross between sheepishness and worry.

  Alastryn led them to a new room that held a long table akin to the ones Quinn ate off in the mess halls. The table had already been set with steaming cups of tea, several bowls of nuts, fresh bread, and a few candied fruits.

  “Sit,” Alastryn said. “And tell me the tale of how you met.”

  “It’s as I told you last night,” Emerys said safely from his perch on Quinn’s shoulder.

  “I was not speaking to you,” Alastryn said.

  Quinn awkwardly cleared her throat. “Before I begin, I must confess that I never knew Emerys—His Majesty—was the King of Elves. Ow,” Quinn rubbed her temple where Emerys had pecked her.

  “No formalities,” he insisted.

  “If you did not know, it is through no fault of your own.” Alastryn purred over her cup of tea.

  “Perhaps,” Quinn said as she uneasily held her mug. “But I’m afraid I was rather abusive of him when I saw him running from the goblins and have been rude since.”

  “Running from goblins?” Alastryn turned her icy gaze to Emerys. “You said she shot a goblin that was tossing daggers at you as you stood on the border!”

  “She did shoot the goblins,” Emerys insisted.

  “There was more than one?!”

  It took Quinn several minutes to tell her story—interjected with bouts of shouting from the cousins—and explain to Alastryn what they had discovered that day.

  “I see. So turning into an animal fools the curse at least enough to get you over the border. How fortuitous.” Alastryn’s smile was as bright as a sunny day as she placed her hands on the table.

  Emerys finally hopped off Quinn’s shoulder and flew around the room, circling the table. “It worked better than I had—ack!”

  Alastryn, moving like quicksilver, snatched Emerys out of the air and clamped her hands around his sides so he couldn’t use his wings. “You impulsive brute!” she snarled. “You could have gotten yourself killed! How could you do something so stupid?” She shook him up and down, jostling her king.

  Quinn watched the cousins with mild interest as she sipped her tea. It seems that despite her genteel manner, Alastryn is rather brutal. Also, perhaps she is right in that I need not worry about insulting Emerys if he is used to this sort of interaction.

  “Quinn—get this hag to let me go!” Emerys bit out between jostles.

  “Hag?” Alastryn shouted. “I should pluck out your tail feathers!”

  Emerys pecked her hard enough that she finally let him go. Unprepared, he fell on the table, plopping into a bowl of dried apricots. He flung apricots everywhere as he lunged out of the bowl and hurriedly walked across the table, pausing to flick his tailfeathers at Alastryn when he reached Quinn’s side.

  “Though you yell, I know you’re just as excited—as happy—as I am about Quinn,” Emerys said.

  The anger seemed to deflate Alastryn. “I am—I am deliriously happy about the possibilities. But your safety is worth more.”

  Quinn put a polite smile on. “Why would you be pleased about me?”

  Alastryn elegantly tapped her chin while Emerys opened and closed his beak several times.

  “The curse?” Quinn guessed.

  Emerys tapped the
top of her hand with his beak.

  Quinn slowly nodded. “I see…” I doubt it involves me personally. “Does breaking your curse require a citizen of Farset?”

  Emerys shook his head.

  Quinn furrowed her brow. “An elf-friend?”

  Emerys made a figure eight shape with his head that could have passed for both a yes and a no.

  “I really can’t tell what you’re trying to say,” Quinn said.

  “Watch my head,” Emerys said.

  “I am. It looks like you’ve eaten too many wild forest mushrooms,” Quinn said.

  “Considering you’re a Farset soldier who is supposed to be well versed in body language, you’re rather poor at this.”

  “It would be easier if you were at least a hawk rather than a crow.”

  Alastryn laughed. “The two of you together are precious.”

  Emerys cocked his head and hopped towards her. “You aren’t going to lecture me for sounding like a guttersnipe?”

  Alastryn rolled her eyes. “I lecture you because your public image matters. But when you speak to your friends, you may be as formal or informal as you like.” She looked past Emerys, her gaze settling on Quinn. “I think it’s good for you.”

  “I just wish I could uncover more of your curse.” Quinn rubbed her eyes as she puzzled through the fragments she knew. “Tonight I am to report directly to King Dirth and my band. Perhaps together, we will be able to understand more.”

  “One can hope.” Alastryn stood and gracefully collected up the tea pot. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall bring more tea and call for something a bit more filling.”

  “It’s not necessary,” Quinn protested.

  “It is,” Alastryn insisted. “You are Emerys’ personal friend. I wish to welcome you warmly.” She smiled and flitted from the room.

  “Alastryn is very kind,” Quinn said.

  Emerys snorted. “Hardly. She’s cursed manipulative when she wants to be. But she does like you, so you’re safe from her clutches.”

  Quinn cracked a smile as she leaned back in her chair. “I’ll take care to remember that.”

  “As you should. You need to be careful, Quinn.” Emerys hopped on top of her arm and peered up into her face.