by Sarina Dorie
“Sit. I was jesting. I won’t goad him. If it puts your mind at ease, we can keep this between the two of us. But if I help you hide your affinity, I am going to require that you do something for me in return.”
My heart lurched as I remembered how he had fueled my affinity to heal Elric. Is that what he would ask for? More than ever I wanted to run out.
“No. I can’t. I need to prove my love for Elric in a couple of days. I can’t have any distractions.”
He held up his hands placatingly. “I understand. I’m not going to ask anything of you that will ruin your chances of success. It’s something I would like to ask of you after your freedom is secured and your debt is paid.” He walked around the desk and leaned against it. “Does that seem fair?”
I nodded.
“I need you to trust me as a friend who cares about you. I will create a ward so powerful it will keep Fae from seeing you as you truly are, but afterward I ask that you drink a potion.” He reached into the pocket of his vest and held it out to me.
I took the glass vial.
“You will take it with you to the ball. Once you are no longer in Elric’s debt, you will drink this. It will neutralize your affinity for a short period of time.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“It will keep anyone from using your magic against you. If someone kisses you, it will be the same as it would for any other witch. Pleasant perhaps, but there will be no magic or compulsion. You will not be coerced. Touch won’t fuel you, and no one will be able to use you. Will you agree to my terms?”
It wasn’t the worst thing he could ask for, assuming he was telling the truth.
I stared into his eyes. “Is that all this elixir really does?”
He didn’t look away. “I give you my word.”
Logic battled inside me. Just because I agreed, didn’t mean I had to do it.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“No. Promise me. As soon as you are released from the contract, you will drink it,” he insisted.
I needed the ward. I had no choice.
“I promise,” I said.
Why did I feel like I had just made a deal with the devil?
Later that day, I went to the administration wing to check my mailbox to see if anything had come in from Elric. A familiar figure strode out of the mailroom, clad in hot-pink pants and a leopard-print shirt. He sported a goatee, and his head was shinier than Mr. Clean. Magic wafted from him in waves.
“Khaba!” I squealed in delight, running up the stairs toward him.
He stepped back, brows furrowed, a hand raised to stop me. “Who’s that?”
I halted, his reaction throwing me off. He stared past me, then to my left and right as if trying to see me.
“It’s me, Clarissa,” I said, waving at him. “I’m here.”
“Clarissa Lawrence?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He laughed. “How embarrassing. I must not have recognized you with your new . . . haircut. Your new hair color?” He studied the air around me. “It’s nice to . . . see you.”
I had a sense he wasn’t seeing me at all. I hadn’t changed my hair. “Are you back? Are you going to be our dean again? If Jeb agrees to pay you this time?”
“It’s hard to say. I enjoyed having a sabbatical and being evil. We’ll see how much Jeb agrees to pay me. Then I’ll decide.”
“Can I hug you? Or are you still . . . evil?”
He opened his arms to me. I ran the rest of the way up and embraced him.
He hugged me and kissed the top of my head as a big brother might do. “Honey, I’m only an evil demon when I first wake up in the morning.”
I laughed.
He added. “And the following sixteen hours that I’m awake.”
I laughed harder. Hopefully that was a joke.
“Also I get a little evil when no one laughs at my puns.”
“Oh? Our pun-isher is back?”
He squeezed me harder. “I forgot how good it is for someone to appreci-hate my humor.”
He drew back, studying me again, his gaze unfocused. “It’s some kind of ward, isn’t it?” He squinted at me. “I can’t see your magic. I feel absolutely blind.”
It must have been Thatch’s ward! It was supposed to keep Fae from seeing me as I truly was. That was reassuring. For the first time, I felt like I actually had a chance of succeeding and keeping my soul.
Cinderella was ready to go to the ball!
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Busting Balls—Witchkin Style
The next couple days I was busy preparing for the ball. Imani and I studied books on Fae etiquette together. I reviewed the study guide of questions Elric had left for me. The King of the Silver Court sent a formal invitation to the ball for the principal to approve to grant me permission to attend. Had Jeb not agreed to let me go, I wonder if that would have cost me my soul right there.
Fortunately Jeb agreed.
I spent the day preparing myself. I stripped the pink hair dye from my hair since Fae didn’t like chemically treated hair, and went blonde. I soaked in a bath of essential oils and scrubbed Morty soap from my skin. I only used organic lip gloss.
As I dashed down the stairs at six for the coach that had just arrived to pick me up, I heard Thatch’s voice behind me. “Clarissa, wait.”
I had a bad feeling about this. He was going to make me late. He would try to stop me. Why had I told him when I was going?
His long legs quickly caught up to me. “Good luck,” he said.
“Oh. That’s . . . nice. Thank you.”
He held a hand out. I took it.
He pressed something into my palm. A vial. “Don’t forget. You promised. After your contract is filled, you will drink this.”
I’d conveniently left the vial he’d previously given me in my room. But I had agreed to this for his assistance.
I glanced over my shoulder. Elric was still outside with the coach. “I can’t take anything with me. They’ll confiscate it. When I get back, I’ll drink it.”
“You need to drink it immediately after you are free. You may need to be creative where you hide it.”
Curse Thatch and his ability to give me more things to worry about than I already had.
I tried to draw my hand back, but he held on. He curled his other hand around my fist. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Don’t trust any of them, especially not the nice ones.”
I laughed. That’s what he had told me last time. I had ended up with one of the nice ones.
“Clarissa.” His voice was thick with emotion.
He tugged me closer. He placed my balled fist on his heart. The gesture was uncomfortably intimate. He looked as though he wanted to say something. I prayed he wouldn’t. I had a contract to fulfill.
“Please don’t make this any more difficult for me,” I said.
The door to the outside burst open. Elric strode through, wearing flowing white-and-silver clothes. Whether it was the formal occasion or the need for pants that didn’t chafe, his clothes were loose.
“Your coach awaits, milady.” He halted, seeing Thatch’s hands on my wrist, holding my hand to his chest. Thatch stepped back and released me.
“Good luck,” Thatch said again. He lifted his nose up in the air, affecting an air of snootiness that hadn’t been there a moment before. “With your natural ability to muck up any situation, you’ll need luck.”
Elric remained at my side the entire time, even as I dressed with maids spinning me a dress from magic and spider silk. I insisted on keeping on my striped leggings, bra, and panties so that I could keep the vial hidden in my underwear. It had been enough of a trial to hide it there in the carriage ride over, making Elric close his eyes as I’d told him I needed a moment of privacy to adjust my undergarments—which hadn’t been a complete lie.
The ball itself was as decadent a
s I remembered. Bobbing orbs of glowing lights illuminated enough gold and silver to sink ten pirate ships. The castle was a mixture of the natural and magical, something in between what I had imagined Rivendell and a Disney princess castle would be like. Vines wove together to form Celtic knotwork along columns. The walls were a combination of metal, crystal, and plants. Morty-made artwork from the masters adorned the walls.
The gowns Fae women wore were works of art in themselves. One woman wore a swan for a hat, which matched the white down of her dress. Another woman wore a dress made from peaches, the aroma tantalizing as she walked by. I must not have been the only one to think so because several bites were missing from some of the peaches. A man waltzed by with a partner who looked more like a giant insect than a woman. His attire appeared to be made entirely of brown beetles. I couldn’t be sure, but they looked like cockroaches.
Everything about the ball, from the costumes to the people, were exaggerated versions of what I had imagined French aristocratic parties to be like. Their customs and manners were alien.
I didn’t get to people-watch long before Elric brought me over to his family to formally introduce us. As if we hadn’t met already. But I was now being introduced as his date.
They sat on a dais, a dozen thrones filled with beings too beautiful and sparkling to gaze at long. They stared at me, unblinking, eyes shifting colors like Elric’s did. The king’s brow crinkled as he looked me up and down, his expression as confused as Khaba’s had been.
Quenylda, Elric’s eldest sister started the interrogation. “You are the one who has given her heart to our dear Elric. Pray, would you eat Fae food to prove your love for Elric?”
I batted my eyelashes and smiled demurely. “It depends. Would it taste good?”
They laughed at that response.
Quenylda’s eyes narrowed, even as her smile stretched wider. “If you loved Elric, you would wish to stay in our realm forever. There’s only one way to do that. You need to eat from our banquet table. Will you do this for him? For his happiness?”
I had practiced this one. “How would it be for his happiness to be stuck with me for the rest of his days, obligated to take care of me, and act as though he loved me—even if he had tired of me? Why would I wish to do that to him? Obligation isn’t love.”
Elric squeezed my elbow, his smile encouraging.
One of Elric’s brothers lifted his nose up at my response. “Fae aren’t obligated to do anything for a mere Witchkin. You could eat of our food. If he didn’t want you, he could still be rid of you.”
“Could he?” I asked. “I don’t think you know your brother very well if you think Prince Elric would be so callous.”
They exchanged amused glances.
Elric whispered, “You’re doing very well.” He cleared his throat, bowing and directing his gaze at his father’s feet. “I believe I hear a new song starting up. I should like to give my dearest Clarissa an opportunity to—”
“I believe Miss Lawrence dislikes dancing. We wouldn’t want another scene like last time,” King Viridios said, eyeing me impassively.
“Actually, I like dancing quite a bit with the right partner,” I said.
“There’s time enough for dancing later,” the queen said, her eyes as icy as the crown atop her head. Everything about her was silvery white, the haze of magic around her reminding me of sunlight reflecting off snow, so that it was difficult to see what she wore.
“If you love Elric, why haven’t you married him?” Quenylda played with an emerald ring on her finger.
I reminded myself these beings knew nothing of love, or if they did, it was an alien kind of love that didn’t resemble anything I would recognize. I tried to formulate words that someone with a child’s understanding of human emotion might comprehend.
One of Elric’s older brothers leaned forward on his throne. “Do you hesitate because this bargain is only a charade, and as soon as it is broken you shall cease pretending to love him?”
I had prepared for this question. “Marriage doesn’t equate to love. From what I understand, most Fae marry for practical reasons, not love.”
Quenylda’s gaze raked over the amulet around my throat that Elric had given me. I thought she would ask me about it. Instead, she asked, “How many times has Elric asked you to marry him?”
That was a question I hadn’t prepared for. I glanced at Elric, uncertain if I had to answer. If I didn’t, would it look bad? Would that count against me?
“Twice,” I said.
“Thrice,” Elric said quietly.
Queen Anwynn spoke, her voice buzzing like flies. “If you loved my son, as Witchkin are wont to do, you wouldn’t have refused him.”
“Elric and I agreed that we shouldn’t marry because of the contract. It would feel false if we did. Waiting until afterward would take away the pressure of obligation, and we could marry when we chose instead of feeling like it was forced on either of us and cause resentment. We want our relationship to last. Bowing to someone else’s rules over what they deem to be love isn’t a good foundation.”
I glanced at Elric to gauge how I had done. His smile remained in place, beatific and unreadable.
A cluster of bees rose out of Queen Anwynn’s beehive-style updo. “Then you intend to marry him after you’re released from the bargain? When? Tomorrow? Next week? In a month?”
The bees buzzed around my face, making it difficult to concentrate. I stepped back. “We haven’t set a date. Nor do we need to as of yet.”
Elric waved his hand at the bees, and they cleared.
The queen smiled as if she thought she had caught me in another trap. “If he asked you to prove his love by marrying him, would you?”
“Elric has never asked me to prove anything,” I said. “He knows I love him and treats me with respect and equality. He doesn’t demand anything. If he did, he would be a different person. He wouldn’t be the man I love.”
“Equality?” one of Elric’s brothers muttered. “Surely she’s a fool to believe such a thing. Witchkin and Fae are not equal.”
They probably treated their bees better than they did their Witchkin servants.
“This is your brother you speak of,” a bearded brother whispered back to the first. “If nothing else, his notions are … radical.”
One of the blonde princesses crossed her arms, appraising me with a cool smile. “This one is quicker and smarter with her tongue than your last wife, Elric. Do you remember how we agreed to get that one girl to eat worms?”
His eldest sister, Quenylda, said nothing. She reminded me of a Barbie doll. Her features were a little too perfectly exaggerated to look human. The unnaturally large quality of her eyes was probably a glamour. There were moments when she whispered behind her fan and the upper half of her face distorted like a funhouse mirror.
“I beg your leave, Father,” Elric said. “If you wish to know Clarissa’s heart better, you need to examine our conduct together through more than questions. Perchance you will at last grant us permission to dance?”
Elric’s father inclined his head in permission. I felt like a child being granted freedom from the dinner table.
Elric guided me out to the dance floor. His relief was palpable. “I do apologize for the inquisition. If it wasn’t for the bargain, it would only be half this bad.”
“No problem.” Only half this bad would have still been intolerable.
As we danced, his brothers and sisters joined us on the dance floor. I sensed the pressure of magic pushing in on me.
Elric glared at one of his brothers halfway across the room. “He’s trying to trip you.”
“I thought I felt something.”
“You’re doing very well. I imagine we only have four more hours to go.”
Oh boy. Four more hours. I glanced at the clock. “He’s going to pronounce his verdict at midnight?”
“Father enjoys being dramatic.”
One of the c
ouples waltzed near us, his sister nudging me with an elbow. “Miss Lawrence, would it be too impertinent to ask you about your art?”
“No, I don’t think so.” This seemed like too easy a question after everything else.
She asked a few innocuous questions before asking with mock innocence, “Has my brother posed nude for you before?”
“I don’t paint and tell,” I said. He hadn’t, but it was probably better to let her think he had.
Elric winked at me.
One of his brothers peppered me with questions next. They were back to the prove-my-love line of questioning. Would I prove my love by kissing Elric right there? Would I prove my love by slapping him if he asked me to?
After the third interruption, Elric leaned closer, “You evade these tests so well I’m starting to wonder if this is too easy for you.”
I laughed at that. “What do you mean?”
“If I asked you to prove you loved me, would you?”
I faltered at last. “What? Is this another test?”
“No. Maybe. No.” His forehead creased with concern. “I wouldn’t ask you to do something horrible that would put you at risk. But if I asked you to do something for me, would you?”
This felt like a trap.
He glanced at his family watching us from their thrones. “If I asked you to marry me, would you?”
“We’ve only been dating for a couple of months. I thought you were okay with waiting.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’m being silly. It’s peer pressure. Or peerage pressure, in this case. I’m allowing them to get to me.”
We went back to dancing.
A few minutes later he said, “What if it was something smaller?”
“If what was?” I asked.
“The thing I asked you to do to prove your love to me? If I asked you to leave the ball and go upstairs to my quarters with me right now and make love to me. Without a condom or protection?”
I glanced down at his loose, flowing pants. “But you can’t. You haven’t recovered.”
“That isn’t the point.” His eyebrows lifted with hope. “If I asked, would you do it?”
