[Fairy Tales 10] The Twelve Dancing Princesses

by K. M. Shea

  “I have another riddle for you, you love-stricken-swain,” Alastryn said. Emerys made a noise of objection, but Alastryn ignored it. “Why do you keep using magic and transforming into animals? Are you scared your new lady will find you ugly?”

  Emerys elbowed Alastryn with enough force to knock a human over, but the lithe elf merely laughed and pushed him off. “Aren’t you just wasting magic? And know that if you claim you have plenty to spare, I’m going to ask you why you haven’t turned into something more impressive—because, please let me remind you, a mouse and a crow are considered low-leveled spells.”

  “I’m trying to test the…” Emerys almost got the word curse out before the spell closed his throat and made him cough. “Since I met Quinn, it has started weakening.”

  “The presence of another personal friend of yours is enough to shake it even the slightest bit?” Alastryn asked.

  Emerys nodded. “The day I turned into a mouse and met her, I barely had enough magic to finish the spell. The following day, I had enough power to transform into a crow.” Emerys flexed his hands and stared down at his fists through the cloth-covered eyeholes of his mask. “And today I think I have enough magic to turn into something larger. Perhaps I will shift into a large predator—like a bear or wolf.”

  “But she didn’t do anything last night, did she? She never approached the pavilion.”

  Emerys shrugged. “Maybe Evariste—wherever he is—has weakened his own bindings.”

  “I hope that is the case,” Alastryn said. “But to be frank, I find it unlikely. Lord Enchanter Evariste was…not in a good place when we were spelled.”

  Emerys knew that, of course. He didn’t know who he was angrier for—himself or his long-time friend. “Then perhaps it’s just that I’m finally getting some of my powers back,” Emerys said, barely touching on what he suspected was the real reason for his slight increase in power.

  It really is Quinn…or rather what she means to me and the hope she represents. There was no escaping that Emerys was starting to cherish her—though he couldn’t tell exactly what shape the cherishment was forming into yet. But she was precious…precious enough that the process necessary to break the curse made him uneasy. She must spill her blood on my behalf…but how much blood would that entail? Surely it won’t require her life!

  “Do you think there is another way to break it besides what we were told?” Emerys asked.

  Alastryn glanced at him. “No, I’m afraid not. Some of our best scholars have looked into it over the years. You’ve spoken with them; you know this.”

  He nodded.

  “You fear for her?” she guessed.

  A frown creased the edges of his lips. “You don’t?”

  “She’ll be fine, Emerys. We don’t even know if the occasion will ever happen where she’ll be in the position to save us.”

  “No, we don’t know she’ll be fine!” Emerys snarled. “We don’t know how much it will cost her, and I don’t want her sacrificing her life!” He breathed heavily for a few moments, then caught his cousin staring thoughtfully at him. “What?”

  “She really does mean a lot to you, doesn’t she?” Alastryn asked.

  “I don’t have to pretend with her,” Emerys said. “I don’t have to hold my jokes back or wonder if she’ll merely smile and do whatever I ask.”

  “No, you don’t,” she agreed. “If you grow too pushy with her, I suspect you’ll find yourself wrapped in rope and shoved high in a tree somewhere.”

  “Alastryn,” Emerys hesitated, “I’m afraid to risk her.”

  Alastryn tossed her arm over his shoulders. “Believe in her, Emerys. She’s tough—and she’s an excellent soldier. She might lack Evariste’s power, but she has a bone-deep strength to her that not many possess. She’ll pull through. No matter what is thrown at her.”

  Emerys nodded, but he didn’t find any comfort in the words. There were still too many dark possibilities, too many ways she could be stolen from him forever. More than ever—even more than the dark days when he thought they might never break the spell cast over them—Emerys hated the curse. Specifically, he hated the wretched requirement the rogue mages had placed on it, and he hated that in order to be freed, Quinn needed to spill her blood.

  If I ever get out of here, I will find the rogue mages who used Evariste and cursed us, and I will tear them apart.

  It had taken the power of Emerys’ friend to curse the elves—no matter how unwillingly it was done—so it was only the sacrifice from another friend that could free them.

  * * *

  Two days after following the princesses into the Alabaster Forest for the second time, Quinn rode Din to the border of the elf woods.

  I need to confirm that all elf warriors are gone—or wandering, whatever that means—and find out if they are under a different curse, and where they are!

  After her revelation that the famed elf warriors were not present at the party, Quinn and Band Gallant had spent the majority of their time in meetings with their commanding officers, as well as King Dirth and Queen Orsina.

  She tipped her head back and stared at the sky. “It’s good to be outside.”

  Several bushes rattled. “Quinn?”

  Din snorted and danced backwards until Quinn turned her in a circle. “Yes. What’s wrong, Emerys? Are you caught in a bush?”

  “No.” Emerys’ growled. “I’m coming.”

  There was some more bush rattling, and a ball of fluff tumbled out of the underbrush.

  It took Quinn a few moments to realize the bundle of fur was a wolf cub—barely the size of a house cat, all black, and possessing so much soft fur it seemed hard for the cub to maneuver.

  Emerys—for it had to be Emerys—staggered to his paws and nearly tumbled over again. When he was steady, he finally looked up at Quinn.

  Quinn met his dark gaze, then stared off into the depths of the forest.

  “Don’t look away—it means you’re embarrassed for me!” Emerys shouted—which ended in a puppy yip.

  “I thought you would have preferred that to me openly laughing at you,” Quinn said.

  “Neither! I want neither!”

  Quinn squinted down at him. “Then what am I supposed to do? Praise you for the quality of your fur?”

  “Just get down and pick me up,” Emerys grumbled.

  “Why?”

  “So I can ride with you instead of walking?”

  “I think you mean ‘attempt to walk.’” Quinn slipped off Din and reached down to pick Emerys up, briefly cradling him in one arm like a baby. His fur was soft as a rabbit’s, and as she adjusted him—her fingers brushing his belly—he briefly paddled his front paws, looking absolutely adorable.

  She paused.

  Emerys blinked up at her. “What?”

  She experimentally brushed his belly again. Again, his pudgy front legs paddled in the air, and this time his pink tongue lolled out of his mouth in a puppy smile.

  Quinn stared at Emerys.

  Emerys stared at Quinn.

  A mischievous smile spread across Quinn’s lips.

  “Don’t do it!” Emerys said far too late.

  She rubbed his wolf belly, making all four of his tiny paws wriggle and his mouth hang open in a puppy smile.

  “You’re the worst,” Emerys grumbled between pleased puppy yips.

  “And you are adorable like this.” Quinn used one finger to stroke him on the top of his muzzle. “You’re so soft and cuddly!”

  Emerys grumbled under his breath as she hugged him to her chest.

  She hefted him up so they were eye to eye. “Ready?”

  “Almost.” Emerys strained forward until Quinn brought him closer to her. He immediately set about vigorously licking her cheek.

  Quinn tried to lean away, but Emerys just moved on to her nose.

  Laughing, she pulled him away. “Emerys, stop that!”

  He licked her hand. “Sorry. Can’t. Instincts and all that.”

  Quinn rolled her ey
es. “What are we doing today?”

  “I thought we could search for Angelique.” Emerys finally stopped licking her and settled into her arms.

  “Even though she can’t break the curse?” Quinn asked.

  “She’s a powerful ally I would like to keep around. I’m also hoping she’ll have news to share about Evariste.” Emerys gave a wide puppy yawn.

  “Your friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright. Let’s see if we can back-track to the road where I found her without you getting pulled back to the woods.”

  It took a bit of maneuvering, but eventually Quinn was able to cradle Emerys and mount Din.

  Emerys sat on the saddle in front of her, boxed in between Quinn’s arms and waist. The precarious situation didn’t seem to bother him much, for he yawned and leaned into her, his fat tail wriggling with joy.

  “I wanted to ask you a few more questions about your curse.” Quinn clucked to Din and clutched Emerys for a moment when the mare lurched forward in a no-nonsense walk.

  “What of it?”

  “You mentioned in the palace some of the elves are gone—were you referring to your warriors?”

  Gone was Emerys’ carefree attitude. “You noticed?”

  “After your hint last night, yes.” Quinn leaned slightly to avoid a tree branch. “It’s what we spent most of yesterday discussing in our meetings. They weren’t killed, were they?”

  “No. They’re…wandering,” Emerys said.

  “They’re not in the Alabaster Forest?” Quinn asked.

  Emerys shook his head, making his fur fluff up even more. “No.” He tried to explain further, but only puppy noises escaped his mouth.

  “But that’s why the goblins and wraiths are a threat, isn’t it?” Quinn asked. “Not only are you weakened, but you lack a fighting force.”

  Emerys nodded.

  “Do they have a curse laid upon them as well?”

  He nodded again.

  “If your curse is broken, will it break theirs?” Quinn asked.

  “No. But if I am freed, I would be able to break their curse myself,” Emerys said. “Once I recovered enough, anyway.”

  “Could humans break it?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes. But it’s not very likely. There’s a very specific set of rules. It’s unlikely you would be able to guess them at random, and I can’t just tell you to—” He tried to speak but couldn’t. He yapped. “Blast! Fine. You can tell your superiors that there are a number of elf-friends—the Black Swan Smugglers—who have a slightly better idea on what the wanderers’...situation entails. They’re scheduled to visit us next week. If you want to accompany Cynbryn—he’s the elf who meets them—you can ask for more information.”

  “Ahh, yes, I recall you mentioning the smugglers. Very well; I will pass that information along in my report.”

  Emerys licked his chops. “Thank you—for all you’ve done, Quinn.”

  She shook her head. “I have done precious little besides wrack my brain for yes-and-no questions. The devious planning put in by whoever did this to you…it’s disturbing.”

  “Nothing less would have worked,” Emerys said.

  “Naturally,” she agreed. “But I find it alarming no one knew this was happening.”

  Emerys leaned his head against Quinn’s stomach. “I think much has been happening under our noses without our knowledge.”

  Quinn grimaced and stroked the top of his soft head. “Band Gallant will free you, Emerys. I promise.”

  Emerys was quiet for several moments as Din picked her way through the forest. “I trust you.” He put a paw on her leg and scooted closer to her.

  Quinn glanced down at him. She held the reins in one hand for a moment and placed her free hand on his back, unable to verbalize everything his trust meant. I can’t let him down. We—the band—won’t let him down.

  Chapter 11

  Dissent in Gallant

  Quinn was almost late for the Band Gallant’s evening meeting with the king and queen.

  She ran through the palace, getting strange looks—not so much for the running but for her elven garb. I can make it—just another hall! This is all Emerys’ fault.

  They hadn’t found Angelique—though they searched for her for most of the morning and early afternoon. Emerys then took her to Sideralis, where Alastryn happened to see him and laughed in his face for a solid five minutes (that was satisfying) before he dragged Quinn off to the palace for a delicious meal.

  Between the amazing food (Roasted venison, sage and rosemary quail, roasted pears, mulled wine, and more!) and the diverting conversation, Emerys had gotten her to while away most of her afternoon, so she had to canter Din back to Navia to get to the palace on time—she hadn’t even had time to change or take her bow back to the barracks!

  Quinn slipped around the corner.

  “You’re nearly late,” Kenneth said.

  “Nearly,” Quinn agreed as she sprinted the remaining steps to her band.

  Leigh whistled as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Those are some fancy clothes you have there.”

  Quinn adjusted her grip on her bow and held her aching side with her free hand. “A gift from Lady Alastryn—the elf who brought us the gondola.”

  “You missed our dinner because you ate with the Elf King again, didn’t you?” Guy complained as he meandered her way and inhaled heavily. “I smell spices on you. It smells...expensive.”

  Roy folded his arms across his chest and stuck his chin out. “We waited for you.”

  “I apologize.” Quinn poked Guy in the chest so he backed up a step as he tried to sniff her shoulder. “Emerys and I spent the day searching for Lady Enchantress Angelique.”

  Kenneth frowned. “If that was all, you should have returned to Navia. We can easily explain troops searching for her even if there are spies on us.”

  “We played guessing games over the curse, as well,” Quinn said. “I think I might have some new information.”

  Kenneth nodded, slightly mollified, but Roy continued to frown. “One of us ought to go with you to Alabaster Forest.”

  Normally, this was where Quinn would paste on a smile and apologize again, but the assertion felt too much like a verbal attack. And it’s possible that Emerys may be rubbing off on me. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because I think you’re starting to miss sight of the goal: freeing the princesses,” Roy said.

  Leigh snorted. “That is not our goal. You can’t fool me—I was briefed by Kenneth. King Dirth told you himself that the elves are more important.”

  “Maybe, but not more important than the band itself,” Roy said. “Quinn is spending so much time away from us, it’s not good for the group.”

  Leigh snorted, but before she could say anything more, Guy stepped in. “Are you just trying to get out of gardening? Because I would.”

  “No, I’m not trying to get out of gardening!” Roy growled.

  “But that’s a solo activity away from the rest of the band as well,” Quinn pointed out. “You’re away from the band just as much as I am.”

  “No, he still eats with us,” Guy said. “Gardeners don’t do fancy, private banquets.”

  “Something you would know if you were here,” Roy said.

  “Enough. You are better than this. We’re about to speak to the king and queen. Do not bring shame upon Gallant,” Kenneth said.

  “Yes, sir,” Quinn and Roy muttered.

  Kenneth frowned at both of them but swiveled to face forward when the doors opened.

  A scholar stuck his head into the hallway. “Band Gallant? Their Majesties will see you now.”

  Kenneth led the way inside. Roy and Quinn followed directly behind him, with Leigh and Guy bringing up the rear.

  This time, in addition to the rows of military officers, Bridget, and Neera—the Purple Rider—were present as well.

  Bridget nodded to them, and Quinn exchanged raised eyebrows with Roy.
<
br />   “I guess they’re getting serious,” Roy muttered.

  “Mmhmm,” Quinn agreed.

  And with that little exchange, Roy relaxed. He even went so far as to offer her a wink before the band bowed to their monarchs.

  King Dirth cleared his throat. “Band Gallant, welcome. Have you any news to report? Have you learned anything more from the elves, Quinn of Midnight Lake?”

  Quinn straightened her shoulders as Kenneth stepped aside so King Dirth and Queen Orsina could see her. “King Themerysaldi confirmed our guess: the elven warriors are gone. They are under a separate curse that will not be broken when the curse that binds the princesses and elves in Sideralis is broken. Emerys said he was confident, though, that he could remove the curse himself after a short recovery period. There is a way for others to free them, but he said it’s such a specific set of rules, it’s unlikely—if not impossible—for them to be freed without help.”

  The queen leaned forward, her eyes hinged on Quinn. “If the warriors are gone, where are they? Surely not dead?”

  “No,” Quinn said. “He says they are wandering, but he was unable to explain it. The Black Swan Smugglers—who aid the elves—apparently know a little more about the curse and could likely enlighten us if we contact them.”

  Queen Orsina frowned. “The Black Swan Smugglers? Where have I heard that name…”

  “They are the group Lady Enchantress Angelique used to check on that in Verglas,” King Dirth said.

  There’s something in Verglas that needed checking? Quinn dared not speak the question aloud, and the king didn’t say anything further.

  Instead, he passed over a neatly arranged stack of papers to the queen. “Their entry is alphabetized under B—and don’t mix up the pages!” He nearly leaned out of his chair to peer at his wife as she shuffled through his papers.

  When Kenneth gave Quinn a pointed look, she continued. “Emerys said the Black Swan Smugglers are scheduled to visit the Alabaster Forest next week some time. He invited me to join Cynbryn, the elf who will meet them, so I can ask the smugglers for further clarification.”