[Fairy Tales 10] The Twelve Dancing Princesses

by K. M. Shea

  “We can try.”

  They drifted over to the spymaster’s position next to a table filled with frosted cakes, dainty cookies, and other desserts.

  Reeves was reluctantly eyeing a castle spun of sugar as he drifted closer to the twin princesses. “Good evening, Your Highnesses.”

  “Good evening, Reeves,” Gianna said.

  “You aren’t going to join in the festivities with your older sisters?” Reeves asked. He gestured to Carrill and Cassya, who twirled with the rest of the elf dancers.

  “No,” Gisetta said bluntly.

  Reeves cocked his head. “But you two have been happy to dance in the past.”

  “In the past, it has been highly informative,” Gianna said. “But after doing this night after night after night, I believe we have exhausted all possible resources.”

  “Informative? Are you two making a study of this?” Reeves asked.

  “Of a sort,” Gisetta said.

  “It has given us the opportunity to learn more about elvish culture—a topic that has always interested us. By the time our scholarly interest waned, we tried to focus on figuring out how this can be ended.” Gianna gestured to the elf celebration.

  “No luck?” Reeves asked.

  “No luck,” Gisette said, sounding disgusted.

  “The only things we can infer are things we already know—one should not eat or drink here, that sort of thing,” Gianna sighed. “Our only positive confirmation is that we have learned that ending…this…requires an action.”

  Reeves rubbed his chin. “You mean it requires someone to do something—not just exchange pretty words or wave the spell off with the flick of their wrist.”

  The twins nodded.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Roy start to reach for a blueberry teacake. She caught his hand and, when he met her gaze, shook her head. He grimaced, then pointedly folded his hands behind his back.

  Reeves continued. “As far as I can tell, you are correct—though I haven’t been able to uncover the required circumstances. I suspect King Themerysaldi might be involved with it, but I cannot directly confirm this as none of us can talk about it.” Some of the spymaster’s frustration leaked into his voice as he peered up at Emerys, still seated on his throne.

  He cleared his throat and seemed to remember himself as he smiled down at the princesses, glancing at their filled plates. “May I escort you to your seats, Your Highnesses?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Thank you.”

  Quinn turned over their conversation as Reeves and the princesses left. They said it was obvious the food and drink were unsafe…and yet the princesses eat, and I have seen Reeves eat and drink. “Do you think it’s possible that it is the food that binds a person to the curse?” Quinn asked. “For the humans, anyway?”

  Roy shifted a tiny bit. “The food is a powerful draw. Even now I find it hard to resist. If you hadn’t been with me that first time, I surely would have consumed something.”

  “It’s also strange how the princesses eat the food but state they cannot drink. Perhaps that’s why they can return home—because they have eaten, which brought them into the curse, but it is the drink that fully binds it,” Quinn said.

  “Might be that if you eat you must spend your nights here, and drink, your days,” Roy said.

  “We will have to tell Kenneth and pass it along to Leigh and Guy. If we can confirm this, it will be much safer to have more guards and back up come with us,” Quinn said.

  “I agree. I think we should go tell him now,” Roy said.

  “Yes, but where is he?” Quinn asked.

  “Ahh yes, therein lies the question.” Roy chuckled.

  Quinn slightly shook her head. “Come. If we complete a circuit of the area, we might be able to spot him from a different angle.”

  “We could always ask Guy and his unicorn,” Roy pointed out as they drifted along the edge of the party.

  Quinn glanced over at the pavilion and was surprised to see Emerys looking in their direction. (Or at least it seemed like he was watching them. With the face mask on, Quinn could only guess based on the way he tilted his head.)

  Can he see us?

  “Midnight, let’s pick up the pace.” Roy nudged her, regaining her attention.

  Quinn shook her head, clearing her mind. I need to focus on this mission and the safety of my band—not wonder if Emerys can see me like some sort of lovelorn pet. She coughed then set her shoulders. “Right. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 10

  The Wanderers

  Quinn—wrapped up in her invisibility cloak—stretched her arms out in front of her, testing her shoulder and waking up her tired muscles. It was late, and the princesses showed no signs of wanting to leave. (Or at least Alena, Carrill, and Cassya did not. Most of the younger princesses were sleeping on beds of soft ferns—though Flippa occasionally sat up to glare at her older sisters.)

  Why haven’t they left yet? I was back in the barracks by this hour the last time we watched them.

  Quinn rubbed her cheek as Alena tried to chat up the same elf she had been speaking to at the start of the dance, but he seemed rather intent on dancing. Quinn paused. Is that why they first came here? Because some of the princesses fancied an elf? She searched for the older princesses. Brittany was dozing with Diana near their younger sisters, but Carrill and Cassya were still dancing. Based on their charming smiles and loud laughter, they were flirting rather more than their father would approve of, but at least they changed partners at the end of every dance.

  As Quinn skimmed the crowd, she noticed Emerys moving. He had abandoned his throne and the pavilion and was slowly meandering in her direction. Maybe he really can see me despite the cloak.

  Her suspicions were confirmed when Emerys broke away from the celebration all together, stepping into the shadows to join her.

  “Uncover anything?” he asked, settling close enough to her that their shoulders brushed.

  “You can see me?” Quinn asked—not entirely surprised.

  “I can see the cloak, and I know you well enough to recognize how you stand,” he said.

  She thought she could detect a half-smile in his voice, but the mask made it impossible to know.

  “Which is just as well,” Emerys continued. “If I had to see you flashing your fake smile at your band mates, I might embarrass Alastryn with some choice words.”

  “My smiles can’t be that bad,” Quinn said.

  “They’re not. That’s the problem, you see. Your real smiles make your eyes glow and are like bursts of sunshine—bright and priceless…uh…” he paused, seemingly embarrassed with himself. “Anyway. I’d be moved to violence if I witness others stupid enough to mistake your forced gesture for the real thing.”

  “I see. Um. Thank you.” Shocked but strangely pleased, Quinn glanced at the Elf King, who furiously scratched the back of his head. I don’t think anyone has ever said anything so.... She cut the thought off lest it begin to bloom. I bet he’s frowning something fierce behind that mask. Taking pity on him, she shed her cloak and folded it up. “We have a working theory that eating and drinking the food here at the celebration is what dragged the other humans into your curse.”

  Emerys nodded.

  “You mean we are actually right?” Quinn asked, slightly surprised.

  “Put simplistically...” Emerys nodded, scratched his throat, then adjusted his mask.

  “Are the princesses not doomed to remain here because they have only eaten with you—they haven’t drunken anything?”

  Another nod.

  “I’ll have to inform Kenneth,” Quinn muttered.

  “Will you come to Alabaster Forest tomorrow?” Emerys asked.

  Quinn muffled a yawn with her fist. “We are due to report to the king, and I will need to catch some sleep…but I could probably come in the late afternoon.”

  Emerys shook his head. “No. You should remain in Navia, then. It is probably for the best—you should have someo
ne look at your shoulder again.”

  “I can sleep and still have plenty of time to return here,” Quinn said.

  “Maybe so.” Emerys shifted so he directly faced her. “But I will not have you risk yourself just so I have someone to stomp around with during the day. Rest, Quinn. You need it.”

  Quinn scratched the back of her head, then nodded. “I hope the princesses leave soon,” she grumbled. “Do they always stay this late?”

  “Only when the eldest mistakenly thinks she’s getting somewhere with Farryl.” Emerys moved so he again stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

  “He’s the elf she’s been following around all night?”

  “Indeed.”

  Quinn raised her eyebrows. Won’t Roy be sad to learn his chosen lady love is already infatuated? …That would have to bother him, right? It can’t be that Leigh is right, and he only chose her because he wishes to be king? The thought felt traitorous to Roy and to Gallant, so Quinn cleared her throat. “Isn’t there a way to scare her off?”

  “Farryl is engaged, but the princess seems determined not to understand that,” Emerys said.

  “Where is his fiancé, then?”

  “Alive but…wandering.”

  This made Quinn perk up. “Wandering?”

  Emerys shrugged. He could say no more.

  There must be something I’m missing here…earlier at the palace, he had called it empty and mentioned some people were gone. Quinn picked at the thought like a loose thread. “He is stuck playing the escort to the princess as long as his intended…wanders? Poor fellow.”

  Emerys shrugged. “As he drinks the philtre every night, it does not bother him overly so.”

  Quinn dragged her gaze from the glittering celebration and studied Emerys. With the mask in the way she couldn’t make any clear judgements about his face, but the set of his shoulders was slightly stooped, and there was a dreary weight in his voice.

  “It’s hard on you, being the only one here with a clear mind night after night after night, isn’t it?” she asked abruptly.

  Emerys tilted his head in her direction. He was silent for so long, Quinn was beginning to think he could not answer her, when a quiet, “Yes,” escaped him.

  Quinn opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say. He’s living under an awful curse, and in many ways he’s so alone. I don’t think words could possibly offer him any kind of sanctuary. But what else could I do? She studied him, and her heart broke a little.

  Slowly, as if he were a wild animal, Quinn leaned ever so slightly closer to him so the back of her hand brushed his in a soft caress.

  Immediately, Emerys snagged her hand and encased it in his, as if he had been waiting for permission.

  Quinn squeezed his fingers, then placed her free hand on his bicep, feeling the muscles there. “We’ll free them, Emerys. We’ll free you.”

  Emerys turned and reached for her, but paused, his fingers hovering a feather’s width from her cheek. He remained turned towards her for a few long moments, the heat of his fingers warming her face even though he didn’t touch her, then yanked his fingers back.

  “We can wait until Evariste is found,” he finally said.

  Quinn narrowed her eyes. “No, you can’t. You’re obviously miserable. Your people are in pain.”

  “But to break the—!” Emerys broke off into what Quinn greatly suspected were elvish curse words. He broke away from her and walked in a circle, kicking a rock. “I can’t lose you,” he said, finally, after completing his circuit.

  “You aren’t going to.”

  Emerys took several quick steps in her direction, then skidded to a stop—nearly colliding with her—and turned around to abruptly stalk in the other direction.

  Quinn watched him with concern. What has gotten into him?

  “Quinn?” Leigh said.

  Quinn jumped then relaxed. “Sorry, Leigh, I didn’t hear you arrive. Yes?” She turned around to smile at her fellow soldier.

  Leigh moved to bow to Emerys, but before she could, he left—prowling back towards the party. “I thought you were friends,” Leigh said.

  “We are. He has been unusually…unsettled tonight.” Quinn watched the young king stalk back to his throne, pausing at the base of the pavilion stairs. She could see the weight of the hope and expectations his people placed on him. Yes, I’ll do whatever necessary to help him.

  Leigh cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation, but the princesses are about to leave.”

  “What?” Quinn turned to peer out at the party. Sure enough, Princess Alena was rousing her youngest sisters.

  “We need to leave before they do as Lady Alastryn cannot take us across this time, and the princesses and the gondoliers will notice something if we all sneak across under that magnificent cloak of yours,” Leigh said.

  “Right, of course. I’ll be ready in a moment.” Quinn unfolded her cloak with a business-like precision.

  “Kenneth has everything ready for us. I’ll see you at the gondola?”

  “Yes,” Quinn said as she swirled the cape around her shoulders but did not activate the invisibility spell.

  “You’re not losing your touch, are you?” Leigh asked with a sly smirk tilting her lips.

  Quinn, in the process of clasping the cloak shut, raised an eyebrow at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “First you missed that this soldier-elf friend of yours was actually the king, and now you didn’t hear me sneaking up on you? For shame, Quinn.” Leigh crossed her arms over her chest and grinned playfully.

  Quinn snorted. “In my defense, Emerys talks and acts like a solider.” After feeling the solid muscle on his arm, it was no wonder she had mistaken him as a warrior. He was built more solidly than Roy!

  Leigh laughed. “I’ll give you that. He looks more like a warrior than any elf present.”

  Quinn started to smile—intending to agree with her, then froze. “What did you say?”

  Leigh took a step back from Quinn’s intense gaze. “Uhh…that your king looks more warrior-like than any other elf present?”

  Quinn whipped her gaze out to the party-goers. Leigh was right. There were a variety of elves present—children, wise elders, young lords and ladies…but they all shared slight builds. And while they moved with elegance, none of them had the same liquid and fatal grace as Emerys and even Alastryn.

  She had seen elf warriors before. They were forces of magic and nature honed into perfect fighters. You couldn’t miss an elf warrior. The inner strength they radiated was too strong for that. But if they’re so mentally absorbing…where are they?

  “There are no warriors here,” Quinn said.

  “What?” Leigh asked.

  Quinn intently studied the crowd, trying to pick out individuals. “I don’t understand how we missed it before, but all the elves here, they’re all civilians!”

  Leigh was at her side in an instant. “But how can that be? The elves have hundreds—thousands of warriors!”

  “I don’t know,” Quinn said grimly.

  “Activate your cloak, girlie,” Leigh said. “We need to tell Kenneth of your excellent observation. Now.”

  Leigh ducked under the cloak with Quinn as she restarted the invisibility spell. More than ever, Quinn was filled with the desire to finish off the curse. She wanted to help Emerys of course, but it seemed that with every revelation attached to the curse, it became apparent just how bad the situation really was. Whoever did this to the elves—man, woman, or the Chosen themselves—to be able to separate the warriors from the civilians and to curse them as well…they must have known the elves! For who else could breach so many of their defenses in this way?

  With this grim thought nipping at her heels, Quinn and Leigh raced to meet Kenneth and report their newest ill tidings.

  * * *

  Emerys’ eye itched. He longed to rip his mask off, but the blasted thing was fused to his face, feeding on his power and magic and dripping it back into the curse,
constantly strengthening it.

  He growled and stared up at the early afternoon sky. He hadn’t felt Quinn’s presence. Hopefully she minded his words and stayed in Navia tonight. She looked dead on her feet last night…

  Alastryn shuffled from the depths of her house, blinking blearily as she pushed her hair out of her face.

  “Good morning, cousin.” Emerys tugged on his mask, yanking on his own skin in the process.

  She squinted at Emerys. “What are you doing sitting in the streets?”

  Emerys, plopped in the middle of the limestone cobble road, shrugged.

  Alastryn grunted and limped closer. “Ugh, my feet. I wore the wrong shoes to dance in last night, but I didn’t want to risk my comfy slippers near the river.”

  “Thanks.” He propped an arm up on his knee and went back to sky-gazing.

  “For what?” Alastryn squatted down next to him, muttering a muffled oath.

  “For helping Quinn and her band mates cross.”

  “It was my pleasure, naturally.” Alastryn ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I slept too late today. But never mind that. I was going to make the observation that Quinn has a new bow.”

  Emerys made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

  “To be perfectly clear, she has your bow,” Alastryn said.

  “My old bow,” Emerys corrected her. “It matched my armor set I had when I was little more than a child.”

  “Dressing it up as your old bow doesn’t change the fact that it was your bow,” Alastryn chuckled. “And it wasn’t that long ago that you were a child.”

  “I let her take whatever bow she wanted. That was the one she chose,” Emerys said.

  Alastryn snorted like a wild horse. “You say it as if it didn’t please you immensely.”

  “You’ve woken up stupid again, haven’t you?” Emerys asked.

  Alastryn whacked him in the ribs.

  He had been delighted Quinn had chosen his old bow. More than delighted, in fact. Though he had only known Quinn for a short while, she had quickly found a place for herself in his heart, and she seemed to dig in deeper every time he saw her. It’s easiest to blame Alastryn, so let’s go with that, he thought—for it was always easier to blame things on his cousin than face the emotional reality. If she hadn’t given her that outfit in MY colors…though they did suit her quite well.