The Twelve Dancing Princesses: Timeless Fairy Tales Book 10

by Shea, K. M.

  Disgruntled, he shifted his gaze to the shadows of the forest. …I hope Quinn is well. The thought was unbidden and sudden—though not entirely unexpected. Her shoulder wound worried him—even if Alastryn informed him he was acting like a mother hen.

  But Quinn was precious to him—and not just because she, against all odds, might be able to break the curse.

  Emerys tugged on his mask. That alone, however, is enough to ingratiate her with even the gruffest of elves. We haven’t had any hope in years…. He grimaced. The events of all they had gone through were as fresh in his mind as yesterday. He closed his eyes, and the unbidden memory resurfaced.

  The day the elves had been cursed, Emerys didn’t see it coming. He was in Sideralis at the time, trying to avoid Alastryn in favor of joining his three generals in a tavern. He trotted down the street, nodding to those who stopped to curtsey or bow to him. Before he turned into the tavern, he gazed out at the city with a smile, squinting when he saw Evariste crossing Sideralis’ threshold.

  Emerys grinned stupidly. “Evariste!” Perfect! If we add a Lord Enchanter to our group, we can call it a meeting, and Alastryn won’t have an excuse to drag me away. He abandoned the tavern and instead trotted down the main street of the city.

  When the tall Lord Enchanter caught sight of him, he wildly shook his head, and he walked forward as though something were pushing him from behind.

  Something is wrong…. He wouldn’t go anywhere without Angelique. Frowning, Emerys sped up into a sprint through Sideralis.

  Evariste grimaced and mouthed the word “Run!”

  Ignoring it, Emerys skidded to a stop just short of his friend. “What’s wrong? You look like someone tried to shove a spear up your arse. Where’s Angelique?”

  Evariste clenched his teeth and tried to speak. “Run, Emerys!”

  Four people stepped out of the shadows of the forest, just behind him: three women and a man. The man snapped, and yellow magic that spit sparks like lightning wrapped itself around Evariste.

  The Lord Enchanter fell to his knees with a pained shout.

  Emerys pulled his sword from its scabbard and held his left hand out. It glowed pale blue, and the trees behind the intruders groaned and started to sway. Roots shot out of the ground, curling around their feet.

  One of the women recited a spell in a dark, sticky language, and fire erupted around the roots, burning them to a cinder.

  Emerys pulled more of his magic and felt it grow around him as all the trees in the immediate area awakened under his call.

  “Suzu,” the male who had attacked Evariste shouted, “now!”

  A sorceress who had her black hair tied back in a severe bun and a cruel mouth etched into her face ripped a book open.

  Darkness flowed from the book, twisting before it formed a spiraling circle under Emerys’ feet. As soon as it touched him, Emerys felt his connection with his magic and the forest itself sever. He tried to back up, but his feet were immobile—as if he were wallowing in tar.

  “Warriors! To the south gates!” Emerys shouted.

  “Oh, yes,” the sorceress with the book purred. “Please do summon your fighters.”

  Emerys heard the clang of weapons and armor behind him, but he focused his efforts on the black magic that encased him. Grunting, he swiped his sword through it, trying to cut it.

  Instead, the magic latched on to the blade and sucked it in.

  Emerys cursed and struggled to remain upright.

  “Don’t bother fighting it, Your Majesty,” the sorceress the male had called Suzu said. “Centuries of research has gone into this spell. You haven’t a hope of breaking it.” Her cruel smile was bright with malice, and her eyes glittered. “After all, it’s charged by the power of your dear friend’s magic.”

  Emerys glanced at Evariste—who was still collapsed on the forest floor. The enchanter’s face was clenched with pain. “They attacked…Angelique—” he cut himself off in pain and shook his head. “Sealed me and harvesting my magic.” He howled with pain when the male sorcerer snapped again, tightening the yellow magic that pinned Evariste’s arms to his sides.

  Growling, Emerys peered over his shoulder, and his heart stopped. Elven warriors and civilians alike stood on the street, caught in the same dark mire as he.

  No, this can’t be possible!

  “Begin the spell,” the sorcerer declared.

  Another sorceress stepped forward—at least, Emerys assumed she was a sorceress. She spoke in the same dark language as Sorceress Suzu had, but he couldn’t get a good look at her through the large cloak that swallowed her body.

  A white circle made of light appeared beneath Evariste. He shouted and yelled in pain as his magic—sky blue in color—was pulled straight through his skin. It built around him in a giant cloud.

  Emerys narrowed his eyes and slipped a dagger from his belt. “You cannot hope to slay us with Evariste’s powers—his magic doesn’t have the edge for it!”

  The light in the sorcerer’s eyes was feverish. “Oh, we don’t have to kill you,” he chuckled. “We just have to starve you out.”

  Emerys flung his dagger, but the last female in the back held up her hand, and the dagger bounced off a translucent shell formed by magic.

  “Elves of Alabaster Forest, we curse you,” the cloaked sorceress said. “You shall remain in your woods, unable to leave, and prisoners in your own home. Magic will be beyond your reach. Indeed, your own magic will power the curse so it will continue on infinitely. You will not speak or write a word of what afflicts you. Instead, every night you will hold a proper elvish celebration, with dancing, music, and food. Anyone who eats or drinks at these celebrations will join you in your curse.”

  Evariste’s magic drifted over to the cloaked sorceress. It circled around her, picking up a veneer of smog-colored magic—then branched out for Sideralis.

  As Emerys watched in horror, it brushed first himself, then every civilian in the city.

  “You won’t get away with this.” Evariste staggered to his feet. “My magic—portal magic—cannot be used for such dark purposes!”

  As he snarled, his magic—smog-colored as it was—crackled. It even started to shed white sparks as it brewed, unstable and fighting the dark spell that twisted it.

  “Of course, magic as pure as yours cannot be straightforwardly cruel,” the sorcerer grunted. “That’s why this curse will contain a key to break it.”

  Emerys wolfishly grinned. Are they really so stupid as to give us a way to break the curse?

  “I see you smiling, Your Majesty. How I cannot wait to see your hope fade away.” The cloaked sorceress chuckled darkly. “As the spell is powered by the friend of His Majesty, King Themerysaldi, it can be broken only by a personal friend of his as well. There must be a price—their blood must cover the white throne, shed on behalf of the elves in a moment of sacrifice.”

  Emerys’ ears rang. What?

  Satisfied with the condition, Evariste’s magic snapped shut, and the weight of the curse hit Emerys with enough force to send him to his knees. He gulped for air as the sticky black spell that held him in place slowly traveled up his legs.

  It was so hard to breathe! Fight this! Do something! Emerys reached for his magic, but a thick wall stood between him and his power.

  The black spell finally reached his face, and Emerys choked as it seemed to coagulate and harden over his face, forming a mask. He tried to pull it off, but it was stuck to his skin. He coughed and shouted. Magic from the mask burrowed past his defenses and ripped into his magic, gnawing at it like a monster. He groaned in pain, and his whole body shook.

  Evariste’s magic twirled around Emerys again, coating him in magic before it seeped into the very ground.

  “No!” the Lord Enchanter shouted. “You fiends—this will never work!”

  “You protest too late,” Sorceress Suzu said, “for it is already done.”

  The male sorcerer laughed openly. “You think this is bad, Lord Enchanter? Just wait and
see all that we have planned. Using you as our power source will require extra steps and work-arounds to cast the black magic we seek, yes. But, as you can see, even your magic can be fooled into casting darkness.”

  Sorceress Suzu strode up to Emerys. She grabbed him by his mask and twisted his head so she could inspect it. “It is done.”

  The pain was so consuming it hurt to breathe, but Emerys forced himself to growl, “It will not last long.”

  The sorceress smirked. “For all your intelligence, you are slow to understand, Your Majesty. To break your curse, it requires a sacrifice from your personal friend—of which you only have one, who is in our possession.”

  “Then I will find another friend!” Emerys snarled.

  She laughed mockingly. “How? You cannot leave Alabaster Forest!”

  The realization was a kick in the gut. They have given us a way to break the curse…but if I cannot leave the woods, how can I find anyone?

  “It’s even worse than you think.” Sorceress Suzu tapped the floor. “You feel the black weight of the curse, yes? But can you pick out that hopeful string of magic provided by the dear Lord Enchanter? His magic will protect your borders. No goblins or creatures of darkness can get through.”

  “So?” Emerys forced himself to sit upright, though every muscle in his body protested. “It will keep us safe!”

  “It will also keep you from ever being in any danger, and you cannot name someone your personal friend if they do not save your life…is that not right, Your Majesty?” She spat out the title like it was a dirty word.

  Between the pain of the curse settling into his bones and the cruelty of the false hope, Emerys grimaced and clenched his jaw to keep from shouting.

  “Stop playing with the Elf King, Suzu.” The cloaked sorceress walked past them, heading deeper into Sideralis. “We need to add in the curse for the warriors.”

  Emerys head snapped up. “What?”

  Sorceress Suzu rolled her eyes. “Come now, you didn’t really think we would leave your fighters here to find a way to wriggle free, did you?” She patted Emerys’ mask, then stood and followed her companion.

  The male sorcerer strolled after them, dragging Evariste in his wake.

  No, the thought echoed endlessly in Emerys’ mind. This can’t be…there must be some way to break free that they didn’t plan on! We’ll free ourselves—we’ll make it!

  Such hope had fortified the elves for the months following the curse…but it didn’t take long for them to realize that hope was in vain. With the warriors gone and Emerys locked inside their home, there was no escape.

  The attack on the elves was not made as an impulse, or even after a few years of preparation. No. The spells placed on them were so powerful, Emerys suspected several generations of sorcerers and rogue mages had tinkered with them.

  One of the Farset princesses laughed obnoxiously loud, stirring Emerys from his dark musings. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced out at the party. The loud-laugher was one of the oldest twins. Figures. Some of the other princesses laugh loudly as well, but at least they mean their mirth. The oldest twins always laugh like hyenas from Baris.

  He grumbled under his breath and leaned back in his chair. “I would happily strangle those sorcerers for leaving the loophole for others to join us in our misery. What I wouldn’t give to keep the Farset Princesses from stumbling into our curse!”

  He yawned then shrugged. Though I suppose it is not all bad. If not for them, I never would have met Quinn. And though I have no idea how she might come to shed blood on the throne in my behalf, her mere existence as my friend confounds all the scheming done against us.

  Even knowing that, it was hard to live in the stifling conditions and watch his people drink to stave off the depths of despair. Soon, hope fluttered in his chest. Soon she might free us.

  Emerys sighed and watched the forced celebration roll on as his thoughts dwelled on one particular Farset soldier and the way she smiled when he offered her an elf bow.

  Chapter 9

  Choices

  Having learned her lesson—in several ways—when Quinn went to meet Emerys the following morning, she rode Din.

  “What’s this?” Emerys attempted to land on Din’s neck—still in his crow body—and squawked when she shook her head and sent him flying. “Didn’t you want to ride Pookie again? I went through the trouble of bringing him all the way to the border.” Emerys flew back to the elf border where the giant war unicorn waited.

  Din stared at the mythical beast for a moment, snorted, then scratched her front right leg. I guess it’s a good thing she’s been exposed to Bridget’s herd so much. Even though Pookie is far more powerful than them, they have a similar aura…. Pleased with the mare’s response, Quinn patted her neck. “I’m just following your advice. You said to be more careful in the forest. If I ride Din, I can outpace any goblins that may try to target me.”

  “I guess.” Emerys settled on Pookie’s back.

  “Today are you finally giving me a tour of Sideralis?” Quinn asked as she nudged Din across the border. The horse sneezed, but she crossed the magical boundary without a fuss.

  “No. We’re going to the palace.”

  Quinn frowned. “The palace? Why? Is it something to do with your curse?”

  “Not at all. It’s so you can choose your bow,” Emerys said.

  Quinn perked. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Emerys swiveled so he could perch on Pookie’s hindquarters and face her as the war unicorn led the way to the city.

  “You said I get to choose it myself?” Quinn asked, brightening.

  “Yes. You seem…er…like you would appreciate that sort of thing.” Emerys flapped his wings and started to caw before snapping his beak shut with a strangled noise.

  “I would!” Quinn nearly bounced in the saddle with glee. “My very own elf bow! How wonderful!”

  “How did the meeting with King Dirth go?” Emerys asked when she had settled down again.

  “Quite well. I believe Queen Orsina might have uncovered a part of your curse. Is the reason why you and Alastryn are excited by my presence because I am your friend? As in I am ceremoniously recognized as being your particular friend?”

  Emerys nodded his crow head so emphatically he staggered on his mount’s back.

  “Do I—as your friend—present a way to break your curse?”

  Another wild nod.

  “I see.” Quinn fell quiet as she pondered the repercussions of the revelation. So that means the curse is possible to break…but how? “Tonight my band—Gallant—and I are to follow the princesses to your evening party again. If we remain hidden—we still don’t want the princesses to know we are there—will that keep us outside the curse?”

  “Whether you are seen or unseen doesn’t matter. But the closer you are, the more our natural pull as part of the celebration will drag you in, which will in turn lead to…”

  Quinn nodded. If being visible to the elves themselves is not what got the other humans caught up in the curse…what is it? Thinking of the curse, Quinn frowned. “That reminds me…I meant to tell you earlier I encountered an enchantress who was trying to make contact with you elves—Lady Enchantress Angelique.”

  Emerys launched himself off Pookie’s back and flew in an oval over Quinn’s head. “Angelique is near?”

  Surprised by his warm response to the enchantress’ name, Quinn nodded. “Yes. I don’t know her exact location, but she said she would remain in the area. You know her, I take it?”

  “Her master—Lord Enchanter Evariste—is a close friend of mine.” Emerys finally landed on Pookie’s rump again. The war unicorn flicked his tail but did nothing more.

  “King Dirth said as much. Isn’t Lady Enchantress Angelique an elf-friend as well, then?” Quinn asked.

  “No,” Emerys said. “She was practically Evariste’s shadow, and since my friends can bring others into our lands, it didn’t ever occur to me she would need the title.” He flapped his w
ings. “Alastryn interacted with her more, I think. She was mostly quiet whenever I saw her. But Angelique is powerful. She’ll be an excellent reinforcement if we can get this curse thrown off.”

  “You don’t think she can break the curse?” Quinn asked just as Sideralis started to shine through the trees.

  Emerys awkwardly tried to shake his head as the curse held him in place.

  Must be because she’s not his friend…

  Quinn looked around the city as they approached it, but it was just as empty and quiet as the day before. “I noticed this yesterday, but I didn’t get a chance to ask…does the curse keep you all indoors? It seems unusual that the streets are so quiet.”

  “No—at least it doesn’t directly.” The hope was gone from Emerys’ voice, and he combed his beak through his feathers. “The longer the situation dragged on, the more disheartened we became by its effects. We were in a very perilous situation when a group of smugglers offered to help us.”

  “Smugglers?” Quinn asked in shock.

  “Yes. They brought us casks of ètonse philtre—a drink that charms a person into great passion for dancing and kills him or her to all other emotion.”

  “All emotions? Including happiness and hope?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds like it would possibly make one feel worse.”

  Emerys stared at the empty streets. “It might, but when you’re so lost to hope you only see death before you, it’s not such a bad thing. At any rate, it gets us through all the parties—though the side effect is that everyone is thrown into such a frenzy, they dance to exhaustion. So most sleep all day and rise in the evening to prepare all over again.”

  Quinn stared at a particularly giant tree that loomed over a four-story elvish home. How horrible it must be to feel such desolation here—in a place of such beauty. “Is that what everyone drank directly before the party started? Everyone except you, that is.”