Lies in the Dark

by Robert J. Crane

  “Is this glass?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat as I allowed Lockwood to pull me out onto the floor.

  “No, it’s magic,” Lockwood said.

  I liked the idea of magic better. Glass wouldn’t hold several hundred faeries in a room as vast as this was.

  Music came from instruments against the wall of windows, carrying through the room as if projected through speakers, though there were none in sight. Who needed technology when there was magic?

  The room smelled of flowers and perfume, intoxicating in its sweetness. Shimmering lights danced overhead, and I realized with a jolt of fear and wonder that they were pixies, just like Nino.

  Large balconies waited on opposite ends of the room, immense wooden doors allowing entry to each. Stars carved upon them, the same shape as the Seelie tattoos.

  “So this is the Seelie court …” I murmured.

  Lockwood nodded, watching everything around us with mingled apprehension and curiosity. “The location, at least. If you were here during a court session, you would experience something entirely different. Chairs along the outer wall, a great dais in the middle made of crystal where the royal presently in charge has their pronouncements made for them—or does it themselves. Usually there is a rather large throne with—”

  “It’s nice and all …” Orianna butted in. “But the Unseelie court is better. More mysterious—”

  Lockwood shot her a dangerous look. “Watch your tongue when you are here, Unseelie.” I couldn’t tell if he said it was self-defense or to protect her.

  As we walked farther into the room, I noticed groups of faeries standing together, their heads bent toward one another, their hands over their mouths barely concealing wide grins. There were an awful lot of giggles, some gasping, scoffing … it reminded me a little of every clique of high school girls I’d ever seen.

  “Aren’t you worried someone will recognize us here?” I asked Lockwood.

  Lockwood didn’t reply for a moment. Only when I looked up at him did he say, “I am, but there are so many people here that I am likely to go unrecognized by most. And if we were brought here underneath Roseus’s protection, then …” he trailed off. “I expect we are safe. For now.”

  For now. I sighed.

  “What do we do?” I asked, looking around, suddenly feeling foolish as I stood there. Yes, the dress I wore was perfect, but … “I don’t know how to dance.”

  “Ah, there you are,” came Roseus’s voice, as if Lockwood speaking his name had summoned him. I wondered for a second if it had. “You all look … wonderful.” Did I imagine it or did his eyes linger on me a little longer than on Orianna?

  “Thank you,” I said. Orianna mumbled something similar.

  “Would you care to join me at my table?” Roseus asked. “Have something to eat? Perhaps meet some of the other guests?”

  Lockwood’s arm stiffened beneath mine. “I was just about to ask Cassandra to dance.”

  “Plenty of time for that later,” Roseus said with a laugh. “Come, relax. You’re here now. You’ll have your chance to plead your case before the court in the morn.”

  I looked up at Lockwood’s face. It was blank, but he was listening intently to Roseus.

  “Lockwood, no one is going to harm you while I am behind you,” Roseus said. “No one would dare.”

  “You truly have ascended, haven’t you, friend?” Lockwood asked. I wished I could hear what he was thinking, but his tone was so neutral. Eventually, he sighed. “Very well. We will come with you.”

  “Wonderful,” Roseus said, and he turned, making his way around the circle of dancers spinning in time to the music.

  “I can watch the room with Roseus as well as I can from here,” Lockwood said. “Besides, it is best to remain close to any allies we might have here. If others support Roseus, they will support us.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said. “It’s nice to know not everyone is our enemy here.”

  “Not everyone,” Lockwood said, and again I felt he was trying to tell me something. “Come on.”

  We walked around the outside of the dancers, and I marveled at all of the faeries. There were some hovering above the floor, others near the ceiling, spinning as if their feet had never left the floor. I imagined it would be hard to dance in the air, but with wings, who knew what was possible for them?

  Roseus made his way to a table that looked to be made from cut sapphires, like water and as clear as the Gulf of Mexico. It was draped with a sheer cloth, and bowls and plates of all sizes covered the surface, along with bizarre curving carafes that looked strangely like the head and neck of a giraffe in size and shape. They were filled with brightly colored liquid. I saw some of the tea that I had at the hospital, with the floating specks of coppery metal, and my mouth watered.

  Other faeries stood around the table, some wearing masks over their faces, others with crowns or glittering tiaras. Even from a distance, it was obvious that these people had more power than others here at the ball.

  “How is your wing?” Roseus asked, and it took me a second to realize he was talking to me. “No improvement yet?”

  I shook my head. “The doctors at the hospital at the camp we visited gave me some treatment and told me to take it easy until it healed.”

  “That’s very unfortunate,” Roseus said.

  “You hurt your wing?” called one of the faerie girls beside the table.

  “You poor dear,” another said, her bottom lip sticking out. It vanished and was replaced with a wicked grin almost immediately. “Must be torture to have to walk everywhere.”

  “It’s not so bad,” I said airily. Like I knew anything different. Other than riding Orion, which, if that was a hint of what I was missing by not being able to fly … yeah, I was a poor dear. All humans were.

  “Come, Lockwood—starfruit,” Roseus said, gesturing to a dish of fruits that looked like tiny pomegranates, except they were green and covered in a red syrupy sauce. “I asked the chef to make this especially for you.”

  Lockwood stared, then blinked. He seemed … touched. “Thank you, Roseus. That was very thoughtful.”

  The fruit was soft and gently sweet, incredibly tart and … my eyes flew open. I had never tasted anything quite like them before. It was tart, yet it wasn’t sour, sweet without being cloying. The syrup was light and delicate, a perfect compliment to the juicy fruit.

  “We were just discussing Mistress Laurel’s recent engagement,” Roseus said.

  “She’s engaged now?” Lockwood asked.

  Roseus shook his head. “I apologize. It’s been so long since you’ve been here. Of course, yes. She was engaged just a month ago. To Master Levem.”

  “Of course, I think she could have done much better,” said one of the faeries just on the other side of the table, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes were so dark that it was almost impossible to see her irises. Her wings were just as dark. “She should have taken Master Calvor as her husband.”

  “I thought Master Calvor had a wife …” I said quietly.

  The other female faeries giggled together like a bunch of high school girls.

  “All right, ladies,” Roseus said, though he was smiling, too. “That’s enough of the latest gossip. Surely our guests don’t want to hear about all of the drama in the court.”

  They laughed again, a pretty, tinkling sound. Then the conversation shifted to some other topic, a woman whose glamours were not what was expected, then to another whose gown was far out of fashion, then to yet another who—

  It occurred to me what I was watching.

  Mean girls. The fae version of mean girls.

  “This would be the opposite back home,” Orianna muttered under her breath to me. “When the Unseelie don’t like each other, they’re openly hostile. None of this whispering behind one another’s backs nonsense …”

  The sound of horns blared, and everyone turned to look toward either end of the room.

  I froze at the sound. What was going on?

&
nbsp; The wooden doors on both balconies swung outward, and as I looked between them, two faeries stepped out. One was male, the other female. They were more beautiful than any humans I had ever seen. She was as radiant as a summer’s day, with hair as gold as sunlight itself, flowing almost all the way to the floor, adorned with tiny little braids and a crown of flowers upon her head. Her wings were the palest blue, like the sky and clouds overhead. She was dripping with elegance and grace.

  He was dark haired and lean, with a strong jaw, a broad smile, and the face of a knight in shining armor. Even I blushed a little as I looked at him, with his green wings the color of new leaves, the way he held his chin high, and the power he radiated.

  There was no doubt about it. They were the king and queen of the Summer Court.

  “Did you know that this is the first time that they have been seen together in almost six weeks?” one of the fae in our circle whispered.

  “I’m surprised it was that recent,” the green haired faerie said under her breath.

  My, these faeries were snarky. I could see why Lockwood didn’t mind staying on Earth. This was like being forever in high school.

  Still, it was hard to be too annoyed with them when there was majesty and beauty everywhere I looked.

  “Citizens of Seelie,” came the voice of the king. “Welcome to our court.”

  Chapter 24

  The whole room around us had gone silent, hanging on the king’s words. It was obvious just how much power these two held; they were just as terrifying and awe inspiring as Lockwood and Orianna had made them out to be.

  Lockwood glanced down at me and gave a subtle shake of his head, but he needn’t have worried: I had no intention of saying anything. I was so overawed, I wasn’t sure I could have anyway.

  I stared up at the king, then just as it had at the hospital, just as it had at the farm, the whole world around me flickered.

  The king and queen remained as they were, standing above the crowd on their balconies, but everything around them was washed in shadows, the faces of the faeries around me veiled as if they were wearing masks of darkness. They stood at rapt attention, nothing moving, no one speaking.

  It was a dark sort of beauty, with thorns encircling the ceiling and glass shards littering the floor. The vision kept shifting between the pleasant reality of the ball and this strange, flickering image of shadow and horror. It was as if all the world was fighting, trying to keep me from seeing what was behind the veil …

  “Friends … colleagues … people of Seelie,” the king continued in his booming, clear voice, “our hearts are gladdened by your presence, and we are eager to begin the night’s festivities.”

  A woman’s voice spoke in clear, ringing tones, and I turned to study Queen Ignes. “We are eagerly anticipating the coming Summer Court. Our victory assured, we press forward to a new dawn—one which will see the Seelie rule over all of Faerie!”

  The fae around us broke out in applause. Lockwood applauded as well, though far less enthusiastically than the others. Orianna remained entirely still. She was staring up at the queen with a look of barely veiled disgust.

  The king held up his hands. Either they were really good at giving each other a chance to talk, or they rehearsed this so much that it was second nature. “We hope that you will feast and be joyful, filling your cups with wine and your hearts with joy.”

  “Thank you all, once again, for your loyalty and your service,” the queen said.

  More clapping. I joined in to be polite, that time.

  I noticed Lockwood was looking over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. I followed his gaze and realized that Roseus had disappeared. “Where did the general go?” Lockwood asked. The fae next to him shrugged.

  I looked back. The king and the queen were now standing in front of incredibly intricate thrones, which had appeared in the few seconds that my back had been turned.

  The king’s was made of a large tree, one continuous piece of wood that had been carved down and shaped until smooth. Tiny buds were popping all over it along the branches, and the seat itself was furnished with a luxurious red silk cushion.

  The queen’s appeared to be made from water, and it shimmered and wavered in the light of the flickering candles behind and above it. It appeared to hold a great depth, and I could have sworn tiny fish-like creatures swam around inside of it, as if it were a giant aquarium.

  This place would probably never stop being weird.

  “Cassandra, would you like to dance?” Lockwood asked me. He had an I have to talk to you sort of look on his face.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said.

  Orianna gave me a forlorn look. Don’t leave me here! she mouthed.

  I shrugged as Lockwood pulled me away from the group.

  “Hey, little faerie! I thought you couldn’t fly!” called one of the drama faeries after me.

  I didn’t reply. Why would I? I couldn’t fly.

  “She has a point there, Lockwood,” I said under my breath as we started a sort of waltz. “And I’m not really much of a dancer.”

  “Not to worry,” Lockwood said, taking one of my hands in his, and placing his hand on my waist. Instinctively, or because I had seen so many princess-y sort of movies, I placed my hand on his shoulder.

  Man, this was just getting weird and cooler all at the same time.

  He lifted me in the air, very gently, and I found my feet on top of his shoes.

  Soon we were spinning along with the dancers around us, moving quickly enough to keep up with the music, me like a little girl on her daddy’s feet. Which felt … a little awkward, given Lockwood was definitely not my father. There was so much about him I just didn’t know. To think, at one point not that long ago, he had been nothing more than a limo driver to me.

  But not now. Lockwood was a magical paladin of Seelie, and a ballroom dancing master. He was an exile of the court, and yet here he was, standing inside their walls, right beneath their noses.

  He was scanning the room around us.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Something isn’t right,” he said, still looking around.

  “Well, no duh, nothing has been right since we came to Faerie in the first place.” I looked down at my feet, still atop his. “Sorry. I sound like those snotty faerie noblewomen.”

  Lockwood smirked ever so slightly. “No, you are very unlike them. But … this is not what I expected.”

  “What were you expecting?” I asked.

  “More a struggle to get into the court,” Lockwood said, smoothly gliding with me across the air over the ball. “A frostier reception at the gate. More … lies, I think.” He looked at me and smiled. “I did bring you for a reason, after all.”

  “Yeah,” I said, coming back to earth metaphorically even as I continued to float in Lockwood’s arms. “And it’s not the way I wear this dress.” I wanted to sag in his arms, or just drift back down.

  “I didn’t mean to … diminish you in any way by saying that,” Lockwood said, looking me in the eyes, his green ones flaring in the multicolored light of the ballroom. “You are a very special young lady, Cassandra.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you down there,” I said, looking past him as another couple waltzed by in a slow twirl. “I guess I was feeling a little sorry for myself. Ever since I came to Florida, it just … feels like lying is the only thing I’m good for, you know? I had to lie to save myself from Byron, to stop those Instaphoto vamps, to dodge the Butcher …” I shook my head. “I lie to my parents, all the time. Again. As if completely burning my bridges in New York didn’t …” I lowered my head and closed my eyes. “Damn.”

  “What is it?”

  “I just … swore that things were going to be different when we moved to Florida,” I said, opening my eyes again to find Lockwood’s rimmed with concern. “I wasn’t going to lie any more, and yet … here I am in an entirely new world, and what am I doing? Lying. About who I am, about … everything. Because this is what you brought me here for
.”

  “Lying is not … always bad,” Lockwood said, but he was pretty half-hearted about it.

  “Oh?” I gave him a smirk of amusement. “Give me an example where it’s good.”

  It only took him a second. “Try to picture how things would go with your parents if you attempted to explain your relationship with Mr. Mill using only bracing honesty.”

  I did imagine it, and … “Yeah, okay, you have a point there,” I said.

  Hey Mom and Dad, I’m dating a vampire. Sure, he looks like a teenager, but he’s older than both of you combined, I think. Been kinda scared to ask. Also, yeah … vampires are real.

  Yep. That’d go super well.

  “I apologize for putting you in this position,” Lockwood said with a great sigh. “We are here now, though. And perhaps you are right. Perhaps … the truth will have its day here as well.” He blinked, once. “It would be nice if I were able to just … speak honestly rather than put you in the position of having to spin an untruth to save my sullied honor.”

  “Well, if I’m going to employ my considerable lying talents,” I said, my gown rippling around me, “at least here I’ll be doing it for the good of someone else, and not just to spare myself some uncomfortable questions or for the thrill of it.”

  The song slowed, and Lockwood and I slowly stopped revolving, too. A small round of applause echoed through the room as we came to a stop.

  The room continued to spin, though. In the distance, still standing beside the long sapphire table was Orianna, her arms crossed over herself, staring at Lockwood and I with a vacant expression, the other faeries nearby completely ignoring her.

  Ah, it was like I’d never left high school.

  Lockwood pursed his lips, looking up at the queen on her aquarium-esque throne. She appeared entirely at ease, sitting there with a clear goblet filled to the brim with electric blue liquid. She took a small sip as a servant beside her whispered in her ear. She nodded, and returned her attention to the dancers.

  Lockwood’s eyes did not leave her, narrowing. “I’m sorry to say it, but … something appears greatly amiss here.”