A Court Bright and Broken (Age of Fae #1)

15. Saved by the Bells

Chapter 15

Saved by the Bells

R aewyn

I was still shaking even after making it to the other side of the ballroom.

My new goal was to stay as far away as I could from that sparkly throne—and the creepy man who sat on it—for the rest of the night, or at least until I received the Earthwife’s message about my task and completed it.

When that was done, I planned to leave here as quickly as possible. I just wished she’d hurry up with it.

As beautiful as this place was, as incredible as the orchestra’s music was, as tempting as the food and drinks were, I did not belong here.

It was only a matter of time before someone discovered it.

Making my way around the edges of the dance floor, I headed for the buffet tables, hoping the sweets had been set out by now.

If not, I’d select a few morsels of something tasty to bring home for Tindra and Turi. They’d be pleased by anything new.

But my progress was stopped by a large male body that seemed to materialize in front of me. I looked up.

And up and up to see the face attached to that wide chest and strong neck.

Pharis.

He’d stepped into my path, and his expression said it hadn’t been by accident.

“Enjoy your royal meet and greet with my father?” he asked in a challenging tone.

Time to lie. It wouldn’t be smart to insult the Fae king to his son’s face.

“Of course. He was very… welcoming.”

Pharis sneered. “Yes, I noticed how welcoming he was to you.”

He looked me over as if inspecting a newly discovered species of insect.

“I wonder why.”

All of the charm Pharis had displayed earlier had vanished. It had been replaced by suspicion and animosity.

“The king is gracious?” I was breathing more shallowly now.

Did Pharis have some sort of lie-detecting glamour? Had my secret identity already been revealed to him?

“No,” the prince said. “He’s not. Not usually anyway.”

I attempted to side-step around him. “Excuse me, I must—”

The rest of the sentence was cut off by Pharis’ swift and shocking embrace.

Before I quite knew what was happening, he whisked me into the throng of dancing guests and was leading me in a fast, whirling dance I struggled to keep up with.

I didn’t have enough breath left to protest, and it barely mattered that I didn’t know the steps. My feet hardly touched the ground.

The prince had me pressed tightly to his body, completely enclosed in his arms, in total control of our pace and direction.

The motion was so fast and unexpected, I felt disoriented. And the whirling scenery around us was making me dizzy. I looked away from the other dancers and the room and focused my gaze straight ahead at Pharis’ chest.

The shirt he wore was open at the neck, and the skin in my direct line of vision was sun-browned and smooth. It was also marked by a tattoo of some sort. I could see only the edges of it protruding where the fabric parted, which naturally made me wonder what the rest of it looked like.

From this close proximity, I was aware that Pharis smelled at least as alluring as his brother, if not more so.

In fact, in spite of the hostility emanating from him in waves–and my distress at being yanked out onto the dance floor like this—it was all I could do not to lean in even closer and press my nose to his neck.

It was thick and muscular. The vein on one side of it throbbed noticeably.

Was it the rapid pace of the dance that had his pulse racing? Or was it something else?

His entire body was tense, and based on the stern set of his jaw, he was furious.

“So where is it you’re from, Lady Wyn ?” he asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m of House Elardis in eastern Sundaris,” I said, parroting the name and location the king had unwittingly given me. “That’s in the southernmost—”

“I know where Sundaris is,” Pharis spit out. “And you’re one of Lord Elardis’ daughters?”

Knowing I’d never be able to pass myself off as the daughter of a human nobleman, much less an Elven lord, I shook my head.

“No, a distant cousin. In fact, the members of his primary family would probably be hard pressed to recognize me.”

There. Now I was covered if, in fact, any members of the Elardis family were in attendance tonight.

Pharis’ expression softened a bit. “You’re clever, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, you think before you speak.”

“And that makes me clever?” My heart was tapping a frantic rhythm that surpassed even the up-tempo dance. He was definitely suspicious of me.

“Either clever… or duplicitous. I intend to stay right by your side until I find out which one it is.”

My body went stiff in his arms, while inside I was battling the instinct to bolt. I felt like a rabbit with one foot caught in a snare.

“You… don’t need to do that,” I protested.

If Pharis kept a watch on me the whole evening, he’d see me receive Sorcha’s message, and I might not be able to perform my mission. My family would suffer the consequences.

“Oh but I want to,” he purred. “You’re quite an interesting woman, Wyn of House Elardis. Obviously my brother and father agree.”

That confirmed it—the Earthwife must have added something extra to my Elven disguise. And Pharis knew it somehow.

“I assure you, I am quite average.”

His focus intensified. “See? Right there. Every unmated woman in this room would give her finest jewels to dance with the Crown Prince—or with me. They’re all doing their best to capture our notice and convince us that they’re fascinating and desirable.”

He dipped me back a bit so he could look me up and down. “Every woman but you. You’re the least willing bridal candidate I’ve ever seen.”

Then his grip on me tightened, becoming brutal as he held me close.

“Or perhaps you’re not here to catch a prince. Why did you come?”

The words were whispered in my ear, his hot breath causing chills to race all over my body.

I had to think quickly. Pharis knew something was off about me. I hoped I really was clever, as he’d said.

Letting out a long breath, I forced myself to meet his mind-scrambling blue gaze. “You’re right. I have not been true.”

He was clearly surprised by my confession, giving me an alert glance.

“I did come to the ball as hopeful as any of the other women here,” I said. “Who would not want to attend an evening such as this and have a chance to change her fate?”

Lifting my hand from his shoulder, I gestured around to the splendor.

“There’s nothing like this in Altum where I live. But you were correct when you told your brother I wasn’t the woman he was looking for.”

One of his dark brows rose. “I know why I think that. I’m curious to hear why you do.”

I tried to sound contrite. “I am not of noble birth. I’m not even a distant cousin of the Elardis family. I’m only a villager in their region.”

Pharis nodded as if satisfied. “I knew it. Where’d you get that invitation?”

His voice hardened again. “And before you attempt to lie, you should know I recognized my brother’s handwriting. The truth now. Did you steal it?”

Swallowing hard, I tried to master the terror threatening to drain all the strength from my legs and drop me on the spot. Pharis didn’t seem to have lie-detecting glamour, but he certainly had something .

“He gave it to me,” I said honestly.

His head cocked to the side, and his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I’m not quite sure.” Also the truth. “Perhaps he was feeling generous and wanted to make a stranger’s day.”

Hastily I added, “But it was nothing personal. He didn’t even recognize me when he saw me tonight. He didn’t remember giving it to me.”

“Or he did recognize you but couldn’t place you,” Pharis mused.

“What will you do now?” I asked. “Have me removed from the palace?”

He appeared to consider it for a minute.

“It isn’t unlawful for lowborn Fae to enter the palace,” he said. “And you were invited.”

Pharis was silent for a few more moments as we danced and he studied my face.

“Still, I could have you locked away—or killed—just for impersonating a noble.”

He let me dangle for a few moments before adding, “But I’m not quite ready to get rid of you. Yet. I’m curious about you, little Wyn. Even more so now that I know the truth.”

Wonderful . That had certainly backfired.

“Obviously Stellon was captivated by you the first time you met as well,” Pharis said. “Or he wouldn’t have given you the invitation.”

A pause as he tilted his head, looking me over. “Where’s your mark?”

“What?” I blinked in panic. Clearly I was supposed to know what he was talking about.

“Your glamour mark. That dress is pretty revealing, but I don’t see it. What’s your glamour?”

I’d noticed symbols decorating the skin of many of the ball attendees. Most were inked on their skin in black, though a few glowed with color. That’s what they must have been—glamour marks.

And mine was conspicuously absent. Sorcha hadn’t thought about that aspect of my disguise I guessed.

“Why do you ask?”

I was stalling for time. I knew so little about Fae glamours. There was the gossip, of course. And I’d read some things in my mother’s books, but those books had also contained stories about other Fae like Nymphs and Nyads.

My mind swirled as I tried to remember which glamours each species was prone to.

“I know it’s forward of me,” Pharis said, “but what I’m really asking is… do you have sexual glamour?”

Wait—was that a thing ?

My eyelids fluttered down, and then I was looking side to side, anywhere but his face as mine heated. It must have been the color of the ripe tomatoes in our new garden.

“Um, no. That’s not it. But I… don’t really like to talk about mine,” I said, hoping that would suffice.

When I looked up again, I was surprised to see Pharis’ expression register understanding.

“Ah. I get it. Mine’s like that as well. Shameful. Still…”

A bell rang. Actually it was a collection of bells. The sound moved through the air, seeming to come from all directions at once and carrying with it a blessed interruption to my interrogation.

The other dancers left the floor, and all the partygoers moved en masse toward two sets of double doors on either side of the dais. Whatever was happening, it seemed the dancing portion of the evening was over. Thank the gods.

As we moved through the doorway, white gloved attendants handed each guest a card with a table number inscribed in shining golden ink. Mine bore a very high number.

Glancing to the side, I noticed Pharis held no card. He already knew his place.

He gripped my upper arm for one more second and stared down at me.

“We’re not done yet,” he told me. Then with a smirk, he added, “Enjoy your dinner.”

Then he released me and walked away toward the table at the head of the room where his father and brother already sat.

A young woman sat with them. Princess Mareth, I assumed from the sparkling tiara on her head. She was blonde and radiant, her full, curvy figure filling out a petal-strewn light pink gown.

She was absolutely stunning and looked every bit the royal Fae princess that she was.

On her bare shoulder perched a tiny monkey. I thought it was called a capuchin, though I’d never seen one in real life, only in books. It was adorable, playing with a tendril of hair that had fallen loose from the elaborate upswept style she wore.

The princess plucked a grape from a crystal bowl in front of her and gave it to him, laughing at the way he gripped it in his little fingers and nibbled on it.

I realized I was smiling as well. Perhaps there was one member of the royal family who was not terrifying.

My own table was blessedly far away from theirs, situated in a corner at the back of the enormous dining room. I took a seat next to a young woman who appeared to be about my age.

She was humming along with the orchestra music that flowed in through the open dining room doors.

On her right cheek glowed a blue symbol, the first glamour mark I’d been able to observe up close. The design featured what appeared to be musical notes. I assumed it meant she possessed musical glamour? Based on its unmissable placement, she was quite proud of it.

She smiled at me. “Hello. My esteem shines upon you.”

“Oh. Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” I said in return.

“I’m Ronia–of House Kyne.”

Taking a quick breath, I repeated what had become my standard lie. “I’m Wyn. House Elardis.”

Her mouth and eyes went round.

“Grand Star, you had a long journey, didn’t you? I thought getting here from Windros was bad. What do you think of Sunspire so far? It’s massive, isn’t it? Although, I’ve never been to Altum. Maybe your home is bigger.”

“It’s not,” I assured her.

She laughed. “Hard to be.”

The woman on the other side of me didn’t greet me at all, too busy complaining to her male companion about being seated this far away from the royal table. I guessed it was an indication of social rank?

She was insisting the harried-looking man get up and go protest the “insult” they’d endured and get them moved to a more appropriate table.

Obviously, she had no desire to get to know anyone else at this “inferior” table—or shine her esteem upon us.

For that, I was grateful. The fewer Elves I had to speak to the better. At least Ronia was nice.

“Things are so different here,” she said. “Did you know they actually eat creatures from the ocean ?”

As if to demonstrate her point, a server set down a platter of steamed shrimp in the center of the table. Ronia wrinkled her nose at the sight of the pink crustaceans with their many legs and black eyes.

Having grown up not that far from the castle and the Great Gray Sea that it sat on, I’d seen them before at various local markets.

Never tasted them, though—they were extremely expensive.

I nodded as if I knew what I was talking about. “Shellfish are quite good. You should try it.”

“You’ve had it? All the way down in Altum, out in the woods?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky. My father is so tight with his coin we never have imported food.”

That was a close one. If Ronia hadn’t answered her own question, I would have been in trouble.

It reminded me that as friendly as this girl was, I was always one careless word away from disaster here.

Where was that message from Sorcha? How long would she make me wait?

In the meantime, I had nothing to do but try to enjoy the food. The spread was so plentiful, I wondered if perhaps Elven people had more than one stomach in addition to being extremely tall and inhumanly beautiful.

At the head table, the king stood, and everyone in the dining hall followed suit.

He waited for the sounds of scraping chairs to cease before saying, “My esteem shines upon you.”

“And mine upon you,” the crowd said in unison.

Oh. That’s how you were supposed to respond to that phrase.

The king continued.

“Thank you, friends, for gracing my home with your presence during this very special Assemblage, the first to take place in a time of complete Elven domination of the Sixlands,” he said. “Thanks to your sacrifices and loyalty, Avrandar is at peace.”

There was polite applause, which the King hushed with a hand gesture.

“That is not all we have to celebrate tonight. Crown Prince Stellon Randalin is of bonding age.”

My gaze fell to Stellon whose face remained expressionless.

“As is my other son,” the King said without identifying Pharis by name.

His face was not blank but painted with disdain, whether for his father’s slight or the idea of marriage, I wasn’t sure. Maybe at life in general.

“I am confident that during these next two weeks, they will each find their perfect match among the eligible ladies gathered in this very room,” King Pontus said. “Perhaps even this very night.”

Excited murmurs filled the space. It seemed my new friend Ronia was the only one not excited by the idea. She stood beside me, still and quiet.

“So let us celebrate the sovereignty of the Elven people,” King Pontus said, “our continued good fortune, and the Crown Prince.”

He lifted his glass and tipped it toward Stellon before holding it up and out toward the audience at large.

“May the Grand Star brighten your way.”

As one, the dinner attendees raised their own glasses and responded, “And may it ever warm you.”

Snatching my glass from the table at the last second, I managed to mutter only the last two words. Hopefully no one around me noticed my tardy response and reported me for some sort of insult to the Crown.

To my relief, no etiquette enforcers appeared. The King took his seat followed by his family, then the guests all sat down again, and the meal commenced.

The shrimp were delicious—no wonder they cost so much. There were small cups of melted butter to dip them in, and when I tasted the combination, I thought I might cry from overwhelm at the luscious flavor.

Platters of fruits and nuts and cheeses followed. And then our small plates were cleared away and larger ones were delivered, already laden with meats and vegetables swimming in steaming, rich sauces.

Now I had a new problem. This was not finger food, and there were an abundance of utensils.

Apparently High Fae used different forks for different foods? They were all shaped like miniature tridents, but there were so many of them of varying sizes.

Casting surreptitious side glances at Ronia, I copied whatever she did, picking up my corresponding utensil and eating the same things she ate at the same time. She didn’t seem to notice.

There were some foods I didn’t recognize, but everything tasted incredible—and it wasn’t just because it was the first time in years I’d eaten food I hadn’t had to cook myself.

Though Papa had assured me there was nothing magical about Fae food and drink, I was starting to wonder.

In fact, I was feeling a little intoxicated after only a few sips of the wine. I vowed to stick to the water from this point forward. I took a large swallow then another, draining my glass, hoping to dilute the effects of the alcohol.

The very last thing I needed was to become drunk. It would be so easy to stop being “clever” and just blurt out something that would expose my ruse.

As I reached for the carafe to pour some more water for myself, Ronia put a hand on my wrist. Her face looked worried.

“You should probably slow down with that,” she warned. “It’s Nymphian, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Nymphs made it. In the Allantian Isles?”

Clearly this was something I should have known.

Ronia’s expression changed, turning into one of concern. “It’s powerful stuff, far more intoxicating than wine.”

She hesitated then said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

My pulse, which had finally settled now that I was free of Pharis’ scrutiny, began to race again.

“Tell anyone what?”

Ronia gave me a kind smile.

“If you’d grown up in House Elardis eating imported food from throughout the kingdom, you would have had Nymphian water before—and know which fork to use— and know the court greetings. You’re not highborn, are you?”

A surge of relief washed through me. She recognized that I didn’t belong here, but she didn’t know I was human.

“No, I’m not,” I confessed. “I was invited but only by chance.”

She shook her head as if it was of no consequence.

“Don’t worry about it. My father is only a minor lord. I was a little surprised we were even invited. I think King Pontus wanted to demonstrate his ‘generosity’ or something.”

“There is no chance one of the princes will select me for marriage,” she added.

“Me either, obviously,” I said.

Both of us glanced toward the head table where the hateful king was yelling at a servant who presumably hadn’t done something to his specifications.

His daughter looked embarrassed and turned away from him to play with her monkey.

Pharis leaned far back in his chair, wearing a bored expression as he drank from his wine glass. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere other than this sumptuous feast.

Prince Stellon watched his father, a frown marking his brow. He was extremely handsome, even in profile.

He did resemble the King, who of course was attractive as all Elven men were. But there was no cruelty in Stellon’s face.

Apparently his younger brother had inherited all the callous disposition in the bloodline.

Suddenly, Stellon turned away from the embarrassing scene between the King and the servant and looked directly at me.