Chapter 22 #2
The king of shadows shifted on his throne. She had the sense she wasn’t behaving as he’d expected. “Well, if you won’t partake of my hospitality, I must insist that you provide me with conversation. Come closer.” He patted the armrest. “I would like to see your features.”
A branch on the silver tree shivered, and a leaf dropped onto the king’s lap. He smiled as he picked it up, stroking it idly as he glanced at the tree. He said something under his breath that sounded like, “No need for dramatics.”
As he directed his gaze back to Thea, she felt a pull of magic on her, a strangely soporific happiness. But while Damon’s pull was more of a question, this was an order. To accept his invitation and to find it delightful.
She didn’t move a hair. “I’m fine here.”
His grin gained a hard edge. “I merely want to see you better.” He snapped his fingers. “Prospect, some light.”
The hooded figure raised his hands, tossing small objects into the air that lit with a green glow and cast an eerie aspect on the king’s face.
“You are truly lovely,” he pronounced after a lengthy inspection of Thea’s features that made her want to draw a weapon.
Why hadn’t she brought one? No doubt his shadows were effective shields, as Damon’s were, but she would like to test that theory.
“I wonder what you would look like with flowers in your hair?” he mused.
“I wonder what you would look like with my knife in your neck.” She restrained herself from saying it, but barely.
The king stroked his chin, looking puzzled. Likely most of his visitors did not wear expressions of fury as they stood before his throne. Perhaps Thea had some natural resistance to his ancient magic.
“We have a visitor, Father?” a familiar, melodious voice said.
Thea’s heart stopped, then pulsed two quick beats together. She turned to face Damon, who was bowing to the king. He was as well-dressed and perfectly groomed as always. As he straightened, his midnight eyes met hers. They held no hint of recognition, as if they’d never met.
She couldn’t help noticing the resemblance between father and son, wondering why she hadn’t seen it before.
But her memory of the shadow king had been hazy after so many years.
Damon was carved as sharply, his features as beautiful.
But there was something about him that she could reach out and touch, something real.
It made no sense to feel relief at his presence, but she did.
“Hello,” she said, wondering at his lack of greeting.
Before she could say more, Damon strode forward and bowed. “Welcome to our realm. I hope you will find it to your liking.” He smiled as he straightened, but the blankness in his eyes chilled her.
He nodded once, tightly, the angles of his face sharper than she’d ever seen them. Then he took a breath and cleared his throat. “Would you mind if I continued bringing our guest to my dance?”
Erebus frowned heavily. “I intend to enjoy her company myself.”
Damon looked down, then back up at his father in a placating way. “Just a few nights to bring joy to my little slice of our realm. Is that so much to ask?”
“Yes,” the king said succinctly, his expression only softening when Thea looked at him. “But I am in a generous frame of mind. As this is such a festive night, I will allow it.”
Festive? Thea wondered. There was no holiday that she knew of. But she understood that she was on the knife edge of safety, and that she should listen rather than speak.
“Thank you, Father,” Damon said, his face pale as he inclined his head. She saw the stiffness in his posture, the tension humming through him. “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like several nights at the dance.”
“You ask much, my son,” Erebus snapped. His fingers tapped an impatient beat on the armrest of his throne. “How many nights?”
“The full nine.”
The king sat forward, his expression furious.
“Before you decide, my reasons are quite sound.” Damon put his hands behind his back, his spine straight.
The same posture Thea used when reporting to her own father.
“First of all, there are fewer folk in the forest of late. Our silver trees appearing in Thirstwood has made everyone wary. But the dance must continue to bring cheer to our dark kingdom.”
Thea understood that “cheer” really meant power for their kingdom.
“Secondly,” Damon continued, “one strong soul is a greater boon to our dance than ten weaker ones. I have had weaker folk of late, regretfully. It is unfortunate that we have not devised a way to draw the strongest here.”
The king launched an accusing look at the robed man called Prospect, who winced and bowed his head. His hands, which were laced together, tightened until the knuckles showed white.
“The silver trees are part of Prospect’s efforts, but I expect him to be circumspect. As for the second point, we will make more progress on that venture once the snow falls and the folk above are in need of cheer. That is our time.”
“Of course, sire,” Prospect murmured. “The coming season is our best chance to gain an advantage, when nights are longest. The Sylvan wards are failing day by day.”
Thea sucked in a breath. Though she already knew about the wards, it hit her hard to hear the Seer detailing the weaknesses of her people.
Erebus stared at Damon for a moment that stretched into uncomfortable territory.
Finally, he nodded. “You must know this request inconveniences me. I have awaited the arrival of this fair Sylvan for a long time.” He glanced at Thea, perhaps to gauge if she was flattered.
She lifted her chin and stared back at him, unblinking.
“Remember that any guest who arrives here must be presented to me by the ninth night.”
Thea swallowed. Somehow, though, the king didn’t seem to know that she had been in this realm for six nights. And Damon was not telling him.
“And be careful what you say,” the king went on, his shadows moving outward, almost like arms reaching for Damon. “I’ll hear of it if you’ve been less than strict with your tongue. As has happened before.”
“Put your faith in me, Father,” Damon said. “I won’t falter.”
The chill in the king’s eyes grew icy. “See that you don’t. I expect you to do your duty by bringing more folk to your dance.” His head tilted to the side as he swept Thea with a penetrating look. “Enjoy your time at the dance, fair Theodora. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”
The scathing reply on Thea’s tongue never found voice because Damon pulled her away by her arm.
With a final, furious glance at the shadow-strewn throne, she lifted her chin and followed him.
To her surprise, the throne room did not appear to be a room at all, but a massive space bounded by darkness.
When they emerged from the obscuring magic that surrounded it, they stepped into a forest of silver trees.
A gravel path took them toward a sheen of water in the distance.
Thea followed in silence. As they drew close, the boat floated up to meet them. She stepped in roughly, rocking the vessel in her angry haste so that Damon had to use his shadows to steady it as he joined her.
After a few minutes, the river bent and widened. The castle came into view, visible by its lit windows.
Thea couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. She was not about to join his dance as if nothing had happened. “How did your father know so much about me?” She gestured down at herself and the dress she hated.
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “I’m assuming he used his shadows as spies.”
“Which is what you did, too,” she accused.
Knowing the dress was from Erebus made her want to burn it immediately.
“I can’t believe I haven’t demanded to know all this before!
How have I let you convince me I can’t ask questions, for the Ancients’ sake?
Enough. Either tell me what I need to know, or I start fighting back. ”
“Thea,” Damon said.
His attempt to calm her fanned the flames of her anger.
“Don’t Thea me! You have been manipulating me, you’ve withheld vital information, and now he clearly has plans for me.
” The acquisitiveness in the king’s eyes when he looked at her alarmed her on some deep level.
Her hands were balled into fists in her lap, her nails scoring her palms. “Do you realize that it was your father who took my mother from me? And despite all your promises of answers, I still don’t know where she is.
What did he do to her, Damon? Answer me or I swear—”
“Thea.” Damon swallowed, his skin paler than usual, his tone stiff. “You saw that silver tree next to my father’s throne?”
“Of course,” she answered, a sick feeling snaking into her gut at the look in his eyes.
“That,” he said, slow and succinct, “is your mother.”