by C. Gockel
He was fay. Of course he was gorgeous, in a graceful, chiseled, statuesque sort of way. That’s the impression she had gotten when she first studied him back in his clearing, and it ashamed her to admit that it had made him a bit of an object. She had been conscious of him being a man, as evidenced by her embarrassment when he suggested she rode his horse form, but it hadn’t truly affected her. Not like it did there. In the room, he was more real, more tangible. Within reach.
Perhaps that was the key. After seeing the fay guards, she had realized that Troy did not possess the beauty of a statue, not at all. His skin might be flawless and his body perfect, but he was alive too. There was curiosity and mischief and anger and softness in his features, but she could not imagine the fay they had met before feeling, much less showing, such emotions.
“If you are ready, we should leave.”
His voice sounded at her side and it startled her. When she looked up, she had to smile. They had given him an ensemble very similar to what the guards had been wearing, pants and shirt and doublet that made him look right out of a Shakespearean play, but instead of earthy tones, they had dressed him in solid black. It shouldn’t be far enough from his usual colors of slate gray and mossy green to be shocking, but the change to his features was drastic. His cheekbones looked more angular, his lips thinner, the line of his jaw sharper. His skin was alabaster against the sable of cloth and hair and the only flash of color came from eyes that looked twice as green.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.” She stood and he offered her his elbow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Music guided them along deserted corridors. There was laughter interlaced with the notes, high-pitched and giggling, and Lily felt Troy tense more and more with each step.
“Any last-minute advice?” Lily said when they could see open space beyond the arch of their corridor.
“Do endeavor not to appear too out of place.”
And then they had crossed the arch and had joined the ball. The music enveloped them and thrummed in Lily’s veins like a living thing, and it was all she could do not to join the dancing figures that twirled and twisted around, silk skirts and scarves trailing behind like a kaleidoscope. The dancers were all beautiful, perfect enough to be surreal. They were men and women, if men and women could be untouched by pain and worry and grief, if they didn’t know the meaning of time and toil, if their only purpose in life were to be admired and make merry.
“Gaping does make you appear out of place,” said Troy in her ear.
Lily clamped her mouth shut and wrenched her eyes from the whirlwind of color and life that devoured the center of the party. She turned her eyes to the edges of the room and noticed her hand had fallen from Troy’s elbow without her consent and she had taken a couple of steps ahead of him, wanting to join the revelry.
She kept forgetting how this beauty was meant to mask the dangerous and, when she moved closer to the high, white stone walls that encircled the glen where the ball took place, she remembered stories of humans dancing and dancing until death. After listening to the faerie music, watching their fluid motions and experiencing the longing to be part of the festivities, she could see where the danger came from.
“Okay. I’ve got it now,” she said, ignoring his dubious look. “Where is he?”
Troy pointed discreetly with his chin and she lifted her eyes to find rows of exquisitely carved balconies. Some stood empty, but ethereal figures lounged in others, watching the dancing from afar. One of such figures, a man of white-blond hair and silver robes over silver-blue clothing, was leaning on the railing and staring at them. While Lily looked at him, he pushed back and disappeared into the shadows.
“He saw us. Let us reach the tables in the back and meet him there.”
They began to circle around, avoiding the dancers at one side and trying not to shove the onlookers at the other. As they weaved their way, Lily saw that some of the attending fay, particularly those standing on the sidelines, didn’t look quite as human-like as her initial observation had led her to believe. Some were too thin, some were much too short, others presented a curious tinge to their skin. Those who were not too engrossed in the dance stared at her with curiosity and she tried to stiffen her back and hold her head high. She couldn’t blend in, but she could look like she didn’t care.
Just like Troy looked like he didn’t mind the hostile looks he received. From the moment they had entered the room, he had transformed like an actor on stage, shedding tension and worry and showing only a half smirk of mild entertainment. He looked like a tourist examining the little quaint traits of a people far beneath him, she realized. How he did it, how he could be so confident when he was surrounded by that many people staring at him was a mystery.
As if feeling her gaze on him, he sidestepped to walk by her side instead of guiding her. “You may relax,” he whispered. “This is not one of their main festivals and only the lower ranks of the court are present.”
“A mob this big is a pain, never mind the self-proclaimed importance of its members,” she said.
Troy laughed openly, drawing even more stares their way. “A mob. Bravo, Lily. That is one fitting name and I for one would enjoy their expression if they heard you bestow it upon them.”
“No, you wouldn’t. That’s the point where pitchforks come out, you know.” But she felt the corner of her lips tilting upward anyway. She tried to sober up then because it was not the time nor the place for jesting, much less at the expense of the very people she hoped to ask for information. “So, Troy. Can I ask you something?”
“You will do so regardless of the answer, will you not?” He cut her a sideways glance and smirked.
“I’m not that bad,” she grumbled.
“I beg to differ. But do tell me. What troubles you now?”
“Why are they looking at you?”
He stopped, the tables already in sight, and gave her an amused look. “Is that what you truly wish to ask?”
“No.” She sighed. “Why does it look like everybody here knows you and dislikes you?”
“I daresay it might be because they do,” he said. His eyes were laughing and she thought it wasn’t part of the mask of nonchalance he was wearing.
“You love being difficult.”
“I do enjoy it.” He resumed walking. “You almost played the game correctly this time, too.”
“But I didn’t almost win.”
“No. Not quite. Which makes me wonder how you intend to win the next match,” he said, nodding toward the lone figure that sat at a table, waiting for them with an unreadable smile.
Cadowain. Her grandmother’s former boyfriend.
Lily took a deep breath. “Well, to be honest, I would settle for a stalemate at this point.”
They reached the table and Troy pulled out a chair opposite Cadowain’s for her. When she took it, he leaned in and his lips brushed her ear. A shiver ran down her spine and her cheeks flushed, involuntarily providing the perfect farce to hide one last message.
“Never aim for anything less than victory, Lily.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“So you are Mackenna’s grandchild,” Cadowain said when they settled down. “How delightful. I can see the similarities, yes. Would you care for something to eat? A drink?”
“She would not,” said Troy, speaking over her pangs of hunger. Really, when had it been the last time she had eaten something? How much time had passed—and, more important, how much time did her body believe had passed?
Cadowain made an impatient gesture. “I really wasn’t talking to you, Kelpie,” he said. “Or is it Troy still? Which are you using these days?”
“Troy fits as well as any other,” he said, a muscle in his jaw twitching, belying the fake smile he plastered on. “Just as well as Cadowain does, I imagine.”
“But there are hundreds of the sidhe here. It would hardly be practical to call us all the same. On the other hand, there is only the one of you.”
Troy leane
d back, crossed his arms, and let his eyes fall half closed. He must have been very irked to be so obviously uncaring, Lily thought.
“Use whichever name you prefer, Cadowain. We both know you shall do so in the end.”
“So long as it is clear,” he said. And he smiled. And Lily gasped.
Cadowain was gorgeous and stood just far enough beyond perfect to become unsettling. His hair shone like moonlight, his features would have made Michelangelo cry, and his skin was just as flawless, pure and white as marble. His clothing, unlike Troy’s, had very little practicality and much elegance, and every detail, from the cut to the flowing tones of silver and icy blue to the embroidery was calculated to make him look even better. Regal was the word.
However, when he smiled, he transformed. His golden eyes shone with warm light and his statuesque features burst with life. It was contagious, and like the sun peeking from behind the clouds, it made you long to bask in his radiance.
“Well, then. As we were saying, would you care for something to eat?”
She very much cared for something, anything. She was hungry and the foodstuffs displayed on the other tables around them looked absolutely edible. And besides, it was the polite thing to do, accept what your host offers you. But she did remember that accepting food or drink from faeries was one of the last mistakes people ever made.
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” she said, biting her lip as soon as the words were out. Not two sentences into the game and already she was in trouble.
Cadowain’s smile widened and he leaned forward. “How positively delightful,” he said. “But I am at a disadvantage here, because you know my name when I don’t know yours. Tell me, how may I call you? Mackenna’s grandchild is too cumbersome, don’t you agree?”
“You could shorten it to ‘child.’” The memory of her name falling from Troy’s lips, sliding against her skin and sinking its hooks in her soul was too recent and far too terrifying for her to say anything closer to the truth, even though he did know her grandmother’s real name.
He laughed. “Oh, no. That makes me feel too old. It won’t do at all.”
“Call her Doctor, then,” said Troy, sounding bored. Lily could have kissed him.
“Is she?”
Troy shrugged. “Or close enough to make no matter. One way or the other, the name she will allow you to use is not the reason we are here.”
“Hmm. Maybe not your reason. And I have to say, it doesn’t fit at all. Mackenna was Doctor… It feels past strange to address any other woman like that,” Cadowain said with a small smile. “I will just have to call you My Lady, then. It has a nice ring to it.”
“Okay,” said Lily. “That works. But Troy was right bringing up the reasons behind our visit. Perhaps we should focus the conversation?”
“Are you in a hurry, My Lady? I could almost think you aren’t enjoying your stay.”
“You know very well—”
Cadowain lifted a hand. “Kelpie, I did say I would discuss this issue with her, didn’t I? If you can’t keep your mouth shut, I fear I will develop a headache and retire to my chambers for the evening. And it wouldn’t even be an excuse. You have always brought the best migraines out of me.”
Troy laughed, and it was sad. “I do have my talents.”
“And being silent never was one of them,” Cadowain said with a smile. Lily got the distinct impression there was old history between the two of them, and she burned with the need to know what it was.
But first things first.
“My grandma,” she said. “Mackenna. She was… abducted recently and I think you might know something about it.”
Cadowain leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes huge and surprised. “Are you implying I kidnapped her?”
“No.” Lily hid a wince. First, she thanked him and then she offended him. At this rate, she would be lucky if they made it out of the Seelie court alive. “What I meant to say is that we believe—that is to say, I have reason to believe and Troy shares my opinion that the Seelie court might have been involved, and you, as a courtier, could perhaps tell us just how involved it was.”
“Ah.” He leaned forward again, steeping his fingers and tapping his lips. “So you need help.”
“Help” was a watchword with faeries. She had learned that much after dealing with Glaistig and with an angry Troy. She did want help, of course, but it was all in the wording. She thought about it, linking her hands and wringing her fingers until the knuckles went white.
“You did declare your love for Mackenna, didn’t you?” she said after a moment of silence. “I thought you might be grateful for the chance to prove your words.”
“She did choose another man over me. And it was, what… half a century ago?”
“And here I thought declarations of undying love lasted a lifetime and came without conditions.” Her voice didn’t tremble… Well, it barely did. It wasn’t noticeable, at any rate.
A very slow smile spread across Cadowain’s lips and he turned to Troy. “That was your idea, wasn’t it? It stinks of your twisted word games.”
“Do you not think her intelligent enough to know the true meaning of words on her own?”
“I don’t doubt she is intelligent, but someone had to tell her about my proclamations of undying love first.”
Troy shrugged, smirking, and Lily bit the inside of her cheek while she looked from one to the other.
“It is hardly as if I were going to refuse to help you, My Lady, or to help you help Mackenna, as the case may be. There wasn’t any need for that subterfuge,” Cadowain said after holding Troy’s gaze for a second.
“Of course you would have been pleased to help,” Troy said, the smirk still present in his tone. “For a price.”
“Headache, Kelpie,” Cadowain said with an annoyed look. “I believe I feel the oncoming stages.” Then he turned toward Lily and his features softened, true compassion showing through. “However, and while I am pleased to help you and to do so without any attachment or requirement on your part, I fear your trip might have been in vain.”
“What do you mean?”
“My… position at court in the past decades has suffered. It may be the high regard I hold for a mortal such as Mackenna, or it may be that I have grown tired of their petty games, or any number of reasons, but the truth is that our queen doesn’t speak to my ears as often as she did. If she had designs on Mackenna, and I am not denying it, she didn’t see it fit to confide in me. However,” he added, reaching over and curling his fingers over Lily’s tense fists, “that I don’t have an answer doesn’t mean I won’t seek one. I will make use of whatever assets are left to me to find out the truth, and I will rely to you all pertinent information.”
Lily studied his golden eyes and nodded. Faeries couldn’t lie and his promise was honest and accurate enough.
“I understand,” she said. “When will this be?”
“I will begin tomorrow.” He looked around. “With the revelry tonight, any inquiry would be a waste of time and a way of calling unwanted attention to ourselves. For now we must seem innocent.”
“Aren’t we?”
Cadowain grinned. “Well, yes. But to us, anyone who doesn’t enjoy a party is suspicious regardless of their true intentions.” He stood and came around the table, offering her his hand. “Would you do me the honor?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lily hadn’t even thought of saying “no,” but as Cadowain led the way to the center of the dance she began to have her doubts. This was clearly a bad idea. This was the sort of thing Troy would have warned her about, and with good reason. She had realized before that the music was dangerous, addictive. Giving in and dancing to the tune, and doing so with someone she didn’t know and who might or might not have a hidden agenda, was not wise.
“I can’t really dance,” she said. Her palm had become sweaty, clasped between his fingers. “I should have said so sooner, and we probably shouldn’t attempt this.”
“Nonsense.
Everybody knows how to dance. You just have to let go and listen to the rhythm. I will lead you.” And he did. And, somehow, it worked. After an experimental turn, Lily felt confident enough to stop shaking, which made him relax his grip as well. “See? Not hard at all,” he commented with a grin.
Mingling with the colorful bodies and swirling trains of silk wasn’t hard. She didn’t move with quite the same grace as the fay did, but this fact didn’t bother her. She would have thought it would be embarrassing, like going to a school dance and being the odd one out who didn’t know the steps or kept stepping in other people’s toes, but there was something exhilarating to being part of the festivities, to celebrating whatever it was they celebrated, to just having fun.
In fact, she was so very at ease that it scared her. How long had they been dancing anyway? The music had changed, she believed. It was more lively and less elegant and Cadowain moved them about in a series of jaunty steps that traced lines and angles all over the place instead of gliding in circles. But when had it changed?
She couldn’t tell. Her eyes darted around, trying to find the orchestra or Troy or something, but she only found more giggling, glittering bodies that danced and danced furiously all around.
“Dancing with you is a pleasure, My Lady,” Cadowain said, jerking her attention back to him.
“Thanks. You lead well.” When she replied, she found her breathing quick and shallow and her words muffled gasps.
“I have practice.” He gave her a wry smile. “But regardless, we seem to fit each other well. There are some partners impossible to steer, no matter the effort. Born with three left feet I say.”
She giggled. It was funny, imagining Cadowain trying to wrestle some stubborn woman into following the graceful steps of the dance and being stepped on constantly for his efforts.
