“Typically it takes years inside a court for its magic to begin reshaping a fae, but you are quite icy,” he said.
I said nothing. I knew it wasn’t winter that chilled my skin, but my contact with other planes, the ones dealing with souls and the dead in particular.
“This should be better,” the king said, holding out his hand again. This time, when I took it, his skin was only pleasantly warm, not burning.
He beamed at me, his smile radiant, enchanting. As he took me in his arms and we began moving to the music, it was like I could smell the sunshine, taste the flowers, and feel the music. I felt warmer, as if the summer was seeping into me, chasing away the chill of the grave that clung to me far too often. It’s a glamour. Even knowing it wasn’t real, I felt myself relaxing into it, effortlessly following the king in his dance as the music filled the field around us.
He lifted me in the air, spinning us both, and the sound of merriment grew distant. By the time my boots hit the grass again, it was to silence. I blinked, pushing a step back from the king. I could still see the field of revelers, but I couldn’t hear them anymore. In the distance, I could see the long table where I’d been sitting, and by the way Falin and Dugan both shot to their feet, alarm evident on their features, something was wrong.
I rushed forward, intending to head back to the table, but several hurried steps took me no closer. I whirled around. The king was still one step behind me, exactly where I’d left him when I stepped out of his arms. He watched me, his posture casual, approachable.
I glared at him. “What’s going on?”
“A little privacy, for a conversation.”
I glanced around. In the grass in front of me grew a line of toadstools. No, not a line, a curve, and following it with my eyes, I realized it formed a large circle. I was in a mushroom ring.
“Let me out. You promised me safe passage while in your court.”
The king continued to smile. “And you are perfectly safe. As I said, this is just a little privacy. I have a delicate matter I wish to discuss.”
Falin and Dugan were moving now, their eyes scanning the field. Dugan’s hand rested on his sword hilt. Falin’s hands were at his sides, but I had no doubt he would have a weapon in a heartbeat if he needed it. I could see them clearly, but by the way they were systematically searching, I knew they could not see me.
“You are distressing my escorts.” I didn’t mention that I wasn’t feeling so calm myself.
“They will be fine. I just want a short conversation.” He held out a hand to me, beckoning me to follow him. There was what looked like a tent crafted from an enormous upside-down flower in the center of the mushroom ring.
I crossed my arms over my chest, not moving. “I thought you just wanted a single dance?”
“I am a man of many desires.”
I snorted.
“Hear me out. That is all I’m asking for.” He stepped over to the tent, peeling back one large petal to reveal a small room beyond.
“And after the conversation? What will you be asking for then?”
He pressed a hand over his chest. “Your suspicion wounds me.”
I glared at him. He stepped inside the flower tent. I could see a small table just past the petal-flap, two fluted glasses filled with pink pixie brandy set on it. He lifted one between two fingers and held it out toward me.
“Have a drink with me.”
“So now it is a conversation and a drink?”
He frowned. “You are making this difficult.”
I resisted the urge to tell him that his difficulties weren’t my issue, but that might push him too far. He was the king and I was in his court. I opened my shields, looking at the mushroom ring through the planes. I couldn’t see the magic in it—I rarely saw Faerie magic—but I could feel it. I could probably break whatever enchantment was keeping me inside. Of course, I might do a considerable amount of damage to myself and Faerie in the process, so breaking the mushroom ring should probably be reserved for absolute necessity. Which left me with either stubbornly standing there or going inside the damn flower hut and granting the king his conversation.
I sighed but chose the higher road. I walked over to the tent and stepped inside.
As with most things in Faerie, there was more to it than it appeared from the outside. The small round table where the king sat should have taken up most of the space if the inside had matched the dimensions of the exterior. Instead, the table sat in the entry. Beyond it was a small pond that held the most enormous lily pad I’d ever seen and that I suspected was actually a floating bed. I shot a scowl at the king, but he only held out the glass to me again.
The king had lost the deerskin vest at some point, leaving his tanned and muscled chest bare. It was a nice chest, maybe even one of the better I’d seen, and I looked because he obviously wanted me to, but it really wasn’t doing anything for me. Nor was the come-hither smoldering look he was watching me with. Not so long ago, a casual romp with a handsome stranger would have been greatly welcomed. After all, he was attractive and clearly interested. Plus he was warm and smelled like sunshine, so it should have been easy to give in. But while his beguiling magics made my thoughts feel a little slow, a little trusting, they didn’t inspire lust.
If he’d kept using his enchanting glamour to make me think he was a great and kind king, he might have gotten somewhere—he’d already caught me up in it a few times. But the amorous vibe he was emitting now? It wasn’t working. He was a fucking Faerie king. I did not want to get tangled in that. My love life was already a trainwreck. There were two very attractive men I had genuine feelings for but whom I couldn’t have. Then there was my apparent and unwanted betrothal to the Shadow Prince. Nope. My dance card was full. Besides, I was realistic enough to know that while I was an attractive woman, I couldn’t hold a candle to some of the women I’d seen fawning over him earlier, especially not after a long day that had already involved raising two shades.
I took the glass he offered, but I did not sit and I did not drink. “Talk.”
The king frowned. I was pleased to see he looked far less charming when he wasn’t smiling.
“You are surely aware that a fae planeweaver has not been seen inside Faerie since the time of legends,” he said, after it became clear that I wasn’t going to throw myself at him.
“I have heard as much.”
“I am the oldest seasonal monarch, and they were long gone before my birth.”
I just blinked at him, waiting. I doubted he was risking the winter and shadow courts assuming he’d kidnapped me to talk about legends.
The king shifted in his seat, and for the first time, he actually looked uncertain. “After the courts discovered you, I asked our lore keepers about the planeweavers. The planeweavers of legend were rumored to have been capable of many amazing and horrible things. They were said to have been able to reshape the very structure of Faerie.”
“It sounds like you know more about them than I do.” It was probably true, and why I was looking for a teacher. Talking to some of these lore keepers might be a good idea as well.
“It is said,” the king said slowly, drawing out the words, and I got the feeling we were finally reaching the point of this history lesson, “that as well as weaving magics together, planeweavers could unravel magics that were otherwise unbreakable. Even magical bindings.”
I waited. Saying nothing. Committing to nothing.
The king watched me for several heartbeats. Then he lifted his glass and drained the pixie brandy in one long sip.
He set it down and stared at the now-empty glass. Then he took the one I’d abandoned and drained it as well. When he was done, he looked back at me. “I would take you into my confidence, but I would need your oath of silence in the matter.”
“You separated me from my escorts, you are holding me in an enchanted mushroom ring, and now
you would like an oath of silence from me?”
“You do make things sound so negative,” the king said. “I had such a sweet encounter planned. This all could have been pillow talk with you satiated and more than happy to consider what I have to say.”
He sounded sulky. I said nothing. Maybe his people liked him. Maybe he had a soft—or lustful—touch with them. But I really didn’t like him.
“Fine, I require no oath from you,” he said. “But if you speak of what I am about to say, I will curse you so that whenever you open your mouth, only toads will fall out and no words.”
Magic closed around me as he spoke, and I felt the unsprung curse sink into my skin. I glared at him.
“Is this what safe passage looks like in your court? A curse?”
He waved a hand. “It only causes you harm if you choose it to by your own actions. I have in no way broken my oath of safe passage. Really, you are very young and not half as clever as you think.”
I broke off my glare to glance back over my shoulder at the edge of the mushroom ring. Maybe it was worth the risk of tearing through the enchantment.
“I was young once too,” the king said, leaning back in his seat. “That is the crux of my problem, I suppose. I too thought I was far more clever than I truly was. I made some oaths and accepted some bonds that I foolishly thought were a good idea at the time. And now I cannot be free of them.”
I frowned at him. He’d mentioned that planeweavers could unravel magical bonds. I guessed he was back on topic with whatever it was he had orchestrated this conversation to discuss. Did he not stop to think that I would be in a less-than-agreeable mood at this point?
“It’s my queen, you see,” he said, going on as if I were participating in his conversation. “I am bound to her until death, and the agreement has made us both miserable for centuries.”
“In other words, it is cramping your style and impeding your seduction of nymphs,” I said sarcastically.
The king only laughed. “It hardly impedes me.”
He gave me a sly wink and even his glamour couldn’t make me see him as charming. I recoiled, stepping back toward the opening of the tent.
“Don’t say no too hastily. I’m willing to offer you anything you desire. Unravel this bond for me, and I would offer you position, power . . .” He looked at me, really looked at me. “Or perhaps what you desire is freedom. I can offer you that, and protect that freedom from the other courts as well.”
And that was the first tempting thing he’d said. Not that it mattered. “Let’s say I’m capable of what you say—and I’m not saying I am—I have no training and limited control of my planeweaving. I could accidentally cause more harm than help. But if I had a teacher . . . Help me acquire training, and I’ll consider your request.”
He scoffed and flicked the rim of his glass. It refilled with more pink liquid. “If I knew someone with enough talent to be able to train you, why would I need you?”
“I’ve heard that there are mortal—” I started, but the firm but delicate sound of a throat clearing behind me forced me to stop.
I whirled around to see a woman entering the tent behind me. She had hair the color of spun gold that fell in soft waves around an oval face. Her eyes were deep green and shone like emeralds, and her mouth was a perfect Cupid’s bow. When poets described ancient Faerie queens as being so beautiful that mortal men, having glimpsed one, would then waste away spending endless hours on hills and paths looking for another, those poets could have been describing this Sleagh Maith. And maybe they had been. A golden diadem sat on her brow. She was, without a doubt, the Summer Queen.
While the king and most of those I’d seen in his court seemed to favor revealing to downright bawdy garments— if any clothes at all, nude was definitely an option in his court—the queen’s dress was far more conservative. The neckline was high, the billowy sleeves long, and the lines of the dress flattering but far from revealing, ending at the queen’s ankles. The green gown was sewn through with golden threads and trimmed with more gold. A belt of beaten gold plates hung at her waist, a small golden dagger attached to it. Green-and-gold slippers completed the outfit. The entire ensemble made her look both elegant and timeless.
She was flanked on either side by what I could only guess were handmaidens. They both wore dresses that were simpler versions of their queen’s. Beyond them, outside the tent, were more fae, these wearing armor crafted of bark and leaves and standing at attention in orderly formation. They were so very different from the frolicking fae in the field, I could only guess that they’d arrived with the queen and hadn’t been at the festivities when I’d been searching for the king.
The Summer Queen’s piercing eyes regarded me only a moment, assessing. Then they dismissed me as inconsequential.
“Go away,” she said to me, and I had the urge to do just that.
I dropped my gaze, unable to look at her face any longer. A small figure hovered behind her, near her shoulder. I hadn’t noticed her at first, but she was no doubt the same leaf-and-acorn-armored pixie who had so violently protested my entrance to the court. I guess I knew where she’d flown off to after kicking my nose. She’d fetched her queen.
“Husband, mine,” the queen said, pointedly ignoring me. “Are you aware that the Prince of Shadows and the Winter Knight are prowling around our court, upsetting our citizens? But of course you are. What strange alliances are you making? Is this girl the offering they brought you to tempt your lecherous appetites?” She gave me another unimpressed once-over.
“Uh. No,” I said, although I knew I should probably keep my mouth shut. I don’t follow my own advice often enough. The queen’s angry gaze slammed into me again, and I felt about as big as an ant. Rolling my shoulders back, I trudged on by saying, “Dugan and Falin are escorting me, yes, but because we need to talk to Lunabella. We negotiated entrance to your court for that purpose alone.” I almost added that I wanted nothing to do with her husband, but I didn’t understand their complicated relationship and didn’t want to make the situation worse.
A perplexed look crossed the queen’s beautiful face, as if she were shocked to learn that something she had found on the bottom of her shoe could speak. Then her golden brows knit together and a small arrow formed over her sharp nose.
“Lunabella is not here.”
“Come again?” I said, which caused her to give me an even more puzzled look. This time because of the slang. Damn it, it was hard to talk to people who were centuries old and didn’t have many concerns for the modern world. “Why isn’t Lunabella here? Where is she?”
“Not that I have to answer to you,” the queen said, staring down her nose at me. “But she left our court, so if you came here to speak to her, you are wasting everyone’s time.”
I had the distinct feeling that by “everyone,” she meant hers in particular.
I whirled to face the king. He was leaning back in his chair, hands tucked behind his head as if he was enjoying the show.
“She left your court?”
He shrugged. “Apparently.”
My mouth moved in several silent but unarticulated words ranging from unspoken curses to unfinished “whats” and “whens.” By the time I finally formed complete words it was to splutter, “You said if we came here we could question her.”
“Technically, you said you thought she was part of my court, and I promised you could speak to any of my fae. I never said you could speak to her in particular.”
I blinked, thinking back to how the conversation through the mirror had played out. He was right. I hated fae and their tendency to twist truths and words so deceitfully.
“So where did she go?”
“She left our court,” the queen said, still staring at me like she didn’t know what to make of me. Whatever conclusions she was reaching didn’t seem positive. “After that she was no concern of ours.”
Right. Of course. Great.
I wanted to scream, but I restrained myself. Throwing a tantrum in the middle of the summer court wouldn’t do me any good.
Giving a tight-lipped smile to the queen, I performed a brusque curtsy and said, “If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesties.” Then I stormed out of the flower tent without a backward glance at the king.
“So you’ll consider what we discussed?” he called after me, his voice nothing if not amused.
Like hell I would. Did he seriously think I would help him now? I had half a mind to tell his queen what he wanted, but I could feel the curse he’d set and I didn’t want toads falling from my tongue. That sounded . . . slimy and distinctly unpleasant.
The mushroom ring didn’t stop me now. Either the king or perhaps the queen had removed the enchantment in it that had kept me inside, so when I stepped over it, I stepped back into the noise of the fae celebrating in the field.
I made it less than a yard into the field before Falin spotted me. Dugan, who had split from Falin at some point, saw me a moment later. Both men reached me at the same time.
“Are you all right?” Falin asked, his eyes searching for damage.
“Angry, but unharmed. Lunabella isn’t here.”
Both men frowned, but it was Dugan who said, “I don’t suppose you were told where she is?”
The look I shot him was probably enough of an answer. I could all but feel the venom in my gaze. Of course, that wasn’t fair to Dugan. It wasn’t his fault Lunabella had left the summer court. And while I would have liked to say that he, being the oldest and the Faerie prince among us, should have caught the duplicity in the king’s phrasing, I knew he was on a limited timeline and doubted he would have intentionally let us waste time in the investigation.
“Now what?” I asked, looking around. I didn’t even know which way the door out of this field was located, let alone where we should go next.
“We still have permission to speak to any of the summer fae we like, as decreed by the king, correct?” Dugan motioned toward the long table where we’d been earlier. Now that the king had left, many of the minglers had as well, but there were still knots of fae left. “Perhaps she has friends who know which court or region she went to after leaving summer.”
Grave Destiny Page 14
